The Dangers of Dating Your Boss

She bent down for the other bag, grimacing as she lifted the heavy weight up.

‘Here, give me that.’ Jack reached down and took the load from her, his fingers brushing hers.

Instant heat sizzled up her arms. Clenching her hands at her sides, she spoke too loudly. ‘Thanks. It goes—’

‘Over there by the stretcher,’ Jack finished with a growl, his eyebrows nearly meeting in the middle of his forehead. His gaze appeared stuck on a spot behind her head while shock flicked through his eyes. So he’d felt the same sparks too. The sparks that made everything so much more difficult.

‘Glad you’ve got it sussed.’ It was important. If any equipment got put away in the wrong place, it could delay things in an emergency.

‘It’s not rocket science.’ A glint in his eye warned her he wasn’t happy with her telling him anything about the helicopter.

‘You didn’t used to be so touchy.’ But he had touched her often.

Jack dropped down beside her, and unsure of him, she tensed, waiting for him to bawl her out, ready to meet him head on. Instead he stole the breath from her by saying, ‘So, a paramedic, eh? Did you ever finish your nursing certificate?’

‘Advanced paramedic, actually.’

‘Sorry, advanced paramedic.’ His eyebrows rose. ‘That’s fantastic. I’m glad you qualified. You certainly have the smarts.’

She straightened a little at his compliment. ‘Yes, I did finish the year on the wards required to finalise my nurse’s practising certificate.’ She’d worked extremely hard to get all her qualifications. Not being satisfied with a pass, she’d aimed for the highest grades possible. That had been the first good turning point in her life. Jack could raise his eyebrows all he liked but he wouldn’t dent her pride in her accomplishments. ‘I trained on the ambulances in San Francisco. Then during the last four months there I took a rotation on the rescue helicopters, which stood me in good stead for this job.’ She’d found her niche. Nothing, nobody would make her give it up. Not a bung knee. Definitely not Jack.

‘San Francisco, eh?’ His tone was acid and he stared straight ahead as they walked towards the hangar and the staffrooms.

Beside him she grinned, refusing to be intimidated by his attitude. He might think he still knew her but, boy, oh, boy, he didn’t have a clue. She’d returned to Wellington, this time permanently. This was the first city in a long line of cities that she’d come back to. Might as well get some of the details out of the way, let him have his ‘I told you so’ moment. ‘I started in Seattle, then went to Vancouver. I really loved Canada but couldn’t get a job without a work permit. Back in the States I headed down to Kansas, LA, San Diego and finally San Francisco.’ She wasn’t going to enlighten him about her reasons for all that tripping around. Not yet anyway. Not unless they got past being mates. Which, right now, looked doubtful. Unfortunately.

‘When did you find time to fit in your training?’ Strong acid.

‘I lived in San Fran for two years, ample time to qualify. My nursing training put me ahead on the course when I started on the ambulance.’ And she’d focused entirely on her job, no sexy distractions anywhere in sight.

‘Two years in one spot?’ The acid sweetened up a little. ‘Did you ever come back here for a visit?’

‘No. Too busy.’ And, because they’d agreed their break-up was final, there’d been nothing, no one, to come back for.

‘Where are you living now?’

‘I bought a villa on Mount Victoria.’ Glancing sideways, she saw his eyebrows lift, his lips tighten, and she braced herself.

His words dripped sarcasm. ‘Don’t tell me you’re settling down? Not you. Come on, I bet you’ve still got that backpack in the corner of your wardrobe, waiting for the day you’ve had enough of Wellington.’

‘Long gone, fallen apart from overuse.’ Not a great testament to her reliability. But, ‘I’m renovating the house. It’s so out of date and colder than an iceberg now that winter’s here. The electricity and plumbing need completely redoing, not to mention the antiquated kitchen and a bathroom requiring a total refit.’ All of which were already guzzling up cash like a thirsty dog.

‘You haven’t exactly answered my question. How long do you think you’ll be around this time?’ His mouth was still tight, but his eyebrows were back in place. ‘You never showed any interest in owning a house. Too much of a tie, you reckoned, if I recall correctly.’

Which, of course, he did. But that had been aeons ago. And deep down she had wanted a home but fear of not being able to make a success of it had driven her to deny the need. What had she ever known about setting up a permanent home? Continuing to ignore his underlying disbelief, she said, ‘The villa’s eighty-nine years old, and showing its age. But I love it. There’s so much potential.’

‘Oh, right. You’ll be here until you’ve done the house up. A quick lick of paint? Some new carpet?’ He held the door to the staff kitchen open for her. ‘Can’t quite picture you as a house renovator.’

‘Give me a break. I’ve never had the opportunity before.’ And they both knew that had been her fault.

Behind her Dave piped up. ‘Ruby’s a dab hand at pulling down walls. You should see her swinging a hammer.’

‘That’s the best bit,’ she agreed, grateful for Dave’s support.

Jack peered down at her. ‘You do know what you’re doing, Ruby? Has a builder looked over your plans? Or are you leaping in feet first and knocking out parts of the house any old how? You could bring the roof down on your head if you take out a load-bearing wall.’

‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked sweetly, fighting the urge to hit him. Of course she knew what she was doing. ‘I have expert help.’ Chris had been a builder until he’d decided there had to be more excitement to life and learned to fly helicopters. He’d been more than happy to take a look at the house and tell her what she could and couldn’t do to it. He’d also put her in touch with a reliable draughtsman who fully understood her need to keep the house in period while modernising the essentials.

‘Coffee, thanks.’ Jack dropped onto a chair at the table. Questions still clouded his eyes.

‘Dave, Chris?’ Outside, the rotors of the second rescue helicopter began slowing down. Ruby got out more mugs for the other crew. ‘Where’s Slats?’

‘Right here.’ A short, wiry man sauntered in and handed Dave some paperwork.

Chris sat down and introduced Jack to his offsider before returning to the previous conversation. ‘Ruby’s got everything under control with the house, Jack. We made sure of that the moment we learned what she was up to. She’s one very organised lady. And damned determined when she sets her mind to something.’

‘Here you go.’ Ruby slid the filled mugs across the table towards the men.

Jack’s eyebrows were on the move again. ‘Ruby? Organised?’ His eyes widened and he turned to her. ‘Have you had a total mind make-over since I saw you last?’ He certainly didn’t have any hang-ups about everyone knowing they used to know each other.

‘Sort of.’ She shrugged off his criticism. ‘I definitely don’t rush things like a sprinter out of the starter’s block any more.’

Jack told Chris, ‘Three years ago, if she’d wanted a wall taken out, she’d have taken it out, regardless of load bearing or any other constraints.’

Chris laughed. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to slow Ruby down once she gets going with that mallet, but she’s very conscious of making the best out of this house. It’s going to be well worth all her efforts.’

Jack pressed his lips together. Holding back a retort? Then he headed to the sink, poured the coffee away and began making another one. Without milk.

‘Oh, sorry.’ She’d made it the way he used to drink it. Silly girl. She should’ve asked, not presumed, she knew.

‘Not a problem.’

Leaning back against the small bench, Ruby folded her arms over her abdomen, holding her mug in one hand. Her pie was heating in the microwave. She put distance between her and Jack, all too aware of the sparks that would fly if they touched. Trying not to watch as he stirred the bottom out of his coffee mug was hard after all those years of wondering about him; yearning for his touch, his kisses, even his understanding. She remembered how those long fingers now holding the teaspoon used to trip lightly over her feverish skin, sensitising her from head to toe.

He glanced over. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Thoughtlessly she laid a hand on his upper arm then snatched it back as his eyebrows rose. Dropping onto a chair, she surreptitiously continued to study him over the rim of her mug. There were a few more crinkles at the corners of his eyes, an occasional grey strand on his head. His tall frame still didn’t carry any excess weight, but when he’d held her he’d felt more muscular than before. Had he started working out? In a gym? Not likely. But, then, how was she to know?

On her belt the pager squawked out a message, as it did on Dave’s. He said, ‘I’ll get the details.’

‘Damn it, when do I get to eat?’ She spun around to empty her coffee into the sink and bumped into Jack. As she snatched the microwave open, she clamped down on the sweet shivers dancing over her skin. ‘Lukewarm’s better than no pie at all,’ she muttered, before sinking her teeth into the gluggy pastry and racing for the helicopter behind Chris and Slats. Would lukewarm Jack be better than no Jack at all? At least she was getting away from him, and he’d have gone by the time they got back.

As Ruby clambered up into the ‘copter Dave called out, ‘You’re picking up a cardiac arrest patient from the interisland ferry.’ He came closer, Jack on his heels. ‘Ruby, I’m sending Jack in my place. Show him the ropes, will you?’

‘Sure,’ she spluttered. Didn’t anyone around here listen to her? Couldn’t they hear her silent pleas? She did not want to be confined inside the ‘copter with Jack until she’d had a few days to get her mixed-up emotions under control. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Would that even be possible?

Toughen up and deal with it. Deal with Jack. He was here. That was all there was to it. Her chin jutted out and her spine clicked as she straightened unnaturally tight and upright. She’d do the job, show him the ropes, and then she was due two days’ leave.

Out over Cook Strait, Chris hovered the helicopter above the rolling deck of the inter-islander. The sky was clear and cold, the sea running fast with a big swell. Not ideal but it could’ve been a whole lot worse.