Читать книгу Outback With The Boss - Barbara Hannay - Страница 10

‘GRACE, I’m offering you a chance to get out of the office—to get away in the outback and to really explore this project with me. How could you refuse?’

‘By saying no!’ she snapped, and leapt to her feet. She was incensed by Mitch’s arrogant assumption that she’d give her eye-teeth to slip away with him. ‘I realise that’s probably a new experience for you, Mr Wentworth.’

He shot her a startled glance, before throwing his head back and releasing a quiet chuckle. ‘Of course I’ve had my share of rejections, Ms Robbins.’

Mitch eyed her shrewdly while he paced her floor and Grace felt like a witness in the dock about to be cross-examined. There was a long, awkward silence before he spoke again. ‘Would we be talking about relationships here? The man-woman kind? Or are we talking about business and the world at large?’

She didn’t answer, but when he retaliated by crossing the short strip of matting towards her Grace held her breath, desperately willing her heart to stay calm and wishing that she could think of a smart retort that would stop him in his tracks. In spite of all the warnings her mind issued, her body started overreacting whenever this man got close. He must know the effect he had on women. He should be considerate and keep his distance.

‘Which Grace Robbins is rejecting my request?’ Mitch drawled softly, while he shook her report in her face. ‘The Grace who wrote this report wouldn’t hesitate to help check out these locations.’

Suddenly she was very unsure of her ground.

‘Is there something deeper going down here?’ Mitch frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps I was wrong to throw that magazine with your artwork in the bin and assume we could start afresh? Do you dislike me so much that you can’t bear to make this journey in my company?’

She shook her head, trying to convince herself that her protests were well-founded, but for the life of her Grace couldn’t articulate her objections. Surely she had good, solid, professional reasons to offer him beyond the pitiful fact that he was so sexy that her clear thinking, precise mind turned to candy floss when he was around? And now he expected her to go away with him!

Just the two of them!

Until now she had always been prepared to cooperate wholeheartedly with her employer. But her previous boss, George Hervey, had been a thoughtful and considerate, elderly gentleman. Working for him, she had always felt safe and sure of her role.

Now, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for her refusal, she couldn’t get her head past Mitch’s suggestion that her objections were more to do with how she felt about him than how she felt about her work.

Mitch was still spearing her with his dark gaze. ‘Would it make a difference if I promised Henry Aspinall not to lay a finger on you for the duration of the journey?’ he asked.

‘Henry?’ Her cheeks flamed. Why did he keep mentioning Henry? ‘Henry has nothing to do with this. He’s mistaken if he thinks we’re still…friends.’

‘Indeed?’ He considered her response for another uncomfortably long moment. ‘You look terrified. What is there to be afraid of?’

Mitch stepped forward and, with an assurance she was sure came from years of experience, reached out his hand to rest it lightly at the nape of her neck. Her skin grew hot beneath his touch and she fully intended to pull away. But, with the same ease that a bright flower attracts a giddy butterfly, he slowly drew her towards him and her good intentions melted. Her lips hovered just below his. ‘Is this what you’re frightened of, Grace?’

Her heart fluttered frantically.

There was no doubt he intended to kiss her.

And Grace also sensed at that moment, that if she cried out, or tried to beat Mitch Wentworth off with her fists, he would certainly let her go. She might have asked him to stop if she hadn’t been having such difficulty with her breathing, but instead she allowed him to close that last short gap.

As Mitch’s warm mouth settled over hers, a tiny sob escaped her and she felt him pull away slightly.

But she was already under his spell.

Her eyes were already closed and her face was tilted at a shamefully helpful angle. And, after that one brief touch of his lips, she was mentally begging him to taste her, to explore her mouth with his own. And when he did Grace sank against him as if she needed his strength.

There was nothing arrogant or pigheaded about the way Mitch’s hands tenderly cradled her face, or the way his mouth lazily investigated hers. It was a journey of discovery beyond her wildest dreams. Wherever he touched her, her skin seemed to flare with delicious sensitivity. The way his mouth moved, slowly and seductively against hers, felt so-o-o good. Utterly spellbound, Grace’s lips opened, pleading for more. Mitch’s kiss deepened and, as if they had a mind of their own, her arms rose shyly to link themselves around his neck.

There was nothing threatening about being in his embrace. Never before had she felt so womanly, so desirable, so eager for a man to explore more than her lips. When Mitch finally broke away, it took all her strength of will not to moan in soft protest.

He looked down at her, his gaze smoky with emotion. ‘Another question answered,’ he murmured softly.

And the spell was broken.

Shocked, Grace staggered backwards, her hand at her mouth as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d allowed such a thing to happen.

‘What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just get your way by trying to seduce me,’ she cried, her voice shrill with self-recrimination.

‘Of course not,’ Mitch responded quickly. ‘I wasn’t using a kiss as a persuasive device. It was just—how shall I put it? An experiment. I needed to discover something.’

Incensed, Grace grabbed a sofa cushion and hurled it at him. ‘How dare you? How could you experiment with me?’

Mitch caught the cushion neatly and stood holding it in both hands. Hands which only minutes earlier had been caressing her. ‘I don’t know, Grace,’ he replied, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Can you explain how we seem to be such a great team when it comes to kissing?’

Of course she couldn’t! It was the stupidest thing she’d ever done. Well, almost, she corrected as her memory replayed two other occasions this week when she’d made a first-class fool of herself in front of this man.

‘Don’t think a little kiss will make me want to go off travelling in the outback alone with you,’ she hissed.

‘What if I promise never to kiss you again?’

‘Oh?’ Grace gasped. Never? She hoped her reply held no echo of the ridiculous wave of regret that flooded right through her.

‘Boy scout’s honour,’ Mitch replied, tossing her a grin and a two fingered salute. Then he shot her a cheeky sideways glance and added, ‘Of course, I’d be prepared to build in an escape clause.’

‘Escape?’ she echoed faintly.

‘I’ll only kiss you if you want me to. The next time I take you in my arms will be when you ask me to, Ms Robbins.’

That brought her to her senses. ‘In your dreams, Wentworth.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t promise what might happen in them.’

Grace glared at him as she folded her arms across her chest and took several deep, fortifying breaths. The impact of that kiss was still reverberating through her body. Her heartbeats weren’t just racing, they were stampeding. Anybody would think she’d never been kissed before. She suppressed the recognition that she had never been kissed like that before. Roger the Rat had been nowhere near as good.

To think she’d joked the other day about playing with the big boys. Clearly, Mitch’s kisses were in a league of their own.

His businesslike tone cut through her wayward thoughts. ‘I really do need you to make this trip with me. You understand exactly what I want. You’ve already done all the groundwork. No one else will be nearly as useful. Give me some credit. I swear I’m not a boss who preys on his female staff. I want us to work together as a great business team.’

Forget about the kiss, she chided. He means it. It’s not going to happen again. Concentrate on the job. ‘How many days would we be away?’ she asked softly.

Mitch beamed at her. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ He glanced again at the notes he’d made on the end of her report. ‘Five days should just about do the trick.’

She nodded weakly.

His answering nod of acceptance, as if he knew all along that she would capitulate, annoyed Grace, but she forced her mind to stay focused on practical business details. ‘Do we need to make any bookings?’

‘I’ll book for tomorrow night at Undara,’ he replied. ‘After that I’d like to be as flexible as possible. We’ll take my mobile phone and book ahead as we go.’ Mitch’s eyebrows rose and he jerked his head in the direction of her kitchen. ‘That curry of yours should be just about ready by now, shouldn’t it?’

‘Don’t push your luck, Mr Wentworth,’ Grace warned, pointing to her door. ‘If I have to spend the next five days with my boss, I need a little solitude tonight.’ More than anything else, she needed to think about how on earth she’d ever allowed that kiss to happen.

Her very worst fears about Mitch had already proved well-founded. He was the kind of man who could charm a nun away from her prayers. And now she was going to be travelling alone with him! Grace believed he’d keep his promise about not kissing her again, but she needed to develop strategies to ensure her body didn’t come up with any silly ideas of its own.

Mitch didn’t try to hide his disappointment that he wouldn’t taste her curry, but to her relief he had just enough manners not to push the matter. ‘I’ll have the vehicle ready for nine o’clock in the morning,’ he said as he went through her doorway. ‘I’ll pick you up from here.’

Punctuality was not her boss’s strongest feature, Grace decided next morning when he eventually pulled up outside her flat a good thirty minutes late. He was driving a large, solid-looking off-road vehicle with a tray back.

She had expected something more flashy and sporty—perhaps a shiny black and gold, city-style, four-wheel drive. This was a regular bush vehicle.

When Mitch swung the driver’s door open and jumped down, flashing her a boyish grin, she was surprised by the way her own spirits lifted. She was hardly feeling her best after a long night tossing restlessly in her bed, worrying about spending five days rattling around the North Queensland outback side by side with her employer.

But this morning, dressed in jeans and an army-green bush shirt, he was looking so genuinely excited, like a boy allowed off on his very first Huckleberry Finn adventure, that her fears subsided somewhat. His enthusiasm, as he patted the truck’s sturdy bonnet, was almost infectious. Not that she was prepared to let him see a chink in her armour. She nodded an unsmiling greeting.

Mitch wasn’t to be put off. ‘I’ve made sure I got a vehicle fitted out with absolutely everything we could possibly need. Spare water tanks, special tow ropes and winches in case we get bogged. Tarps and cooking gear if we decide to rough it. That’s why I’m a bit late—making sure we had all those extras.’

‘Did you get G.P.S.?’

‘A global positioning system?’ Mitch frowned, looking slightly put out. ‘What do you know about that sort of thing?’

‘Oh…’ she shrugged ‘…I’ve read about it. It seems like a brilliant system for making sure you don’t get lost. The army use it a lot.’

‘I doubt we’ll need gear that sophisticated to help us navigate. We’ve got maps and a mobile phone and a good sturdy vehicle—and neither of us is a fool. We’re not going to get lost.’

‘I guess not,’ she agreed, but she pulled a face that allowed just a hint of doubt to linger in the air as she lifted her carefully packed kit bag and heaved it onto one shoulder.

‘Here, let me take that,’ he offered.

Finding it rather a strain to remain ungracious in the face of his helpfulness, Grace allowed him to take her pack. As she did so, he dipped his face close to hers and his dark eyes danced as they studied her. ‘Aha! I think I detect a faint smile,’ he teased.

‘A slip of the lip,’ muttered Grace.

Mitch sighed as he hefted her bag into the back of the truck. ‘So that’s the way it’s going to be, is it, Ms Robbins?’ His glance slid to her jeans. ‘Five days of venom in denim.’

His words found their mark and Grace’s cheeks burned. Perhaps she was behaving unprofessionally—more like an immature kid.

‘Sorry,’ she said, shooting him a fair attempt at a smile. ‘I’m a bit tired.’

‘Then you should just sit back and relax and let me take care of the driving. Did you want to bring any of your favourite CDs to help while away the miles?’

She stared back at him, surprised. ‘That’s a great idea! I won’t be long.’ About to dash into her flat, she paused. ‘Do you have any preferences?’

Mitch leant his long frame against the truck’s door and sent her a slow, conspiratorial smile. ‘I think there’s a very good chance we have similar tastes, Grace. I’m prepared to go along with whatever you choose.’

As she collected a pile of CDs, she sensed her mouth softening into the beginnings of a genuine smile.

Grace wasn’t sure who was more surprised, she or Mitch, when they covered the six-hour journey up the narrow road to Undara without any sparring or tense silences. They only saw a few vehicles during the journey. They listened to her music, chatted about New Tomorrow, about people they knew in the film industry, or sat in comfortable silence as the countryside flashed past them in streaks of brown and grey-green against a bright blue sky. There were even moments when she actually laughed out loud at stories he told about colourful Hollywood personalities.

But whenever she started to relax Grace quickly reminded herself to be wary of her boss. He could pour on the charm when it suited him, but she knew from bitter experience that she must never lower her resistance.

From time to time Mitch stopped the truck to look at a point of interest. A flock of emus caught his attention, and he slowed to take a closer look.

‘I’ll bring them in near us,’ he told her.

Grace eyed him dubiously. ‘So what exactly are you going to do? Warble their mating call?’

He darted a withering glance in her direction. ‘Just watch this, city girl.’ Winding down his window, he held out his wide-brimmed hat and waved it at the emus. The birds stopped abruptly, staring at the movement. As Mitch continued waving, one of the scraggy, long-legged birds slowly stepped forward, a beady eye fixed on the hat. Then the others followed cautiously, until several dark-feathered adults and three stripy chicks were all gathered at the edge of the highway, staring fiercely at Mitch and his hat.

‘That’s a cool trick,’ breathed Grace. ‘Where’d you learn it?’

‘Oh, I knocked about in the bush quite a bit when I was younger. I’m not a complete city slicker. Look!’ He pointed as one of the adults herded up the chicks. ‘You don’t often see the mother emu with her babies.’

Grace cleared her throat. ‘Actually, city boy, it’s the male emu that incubates the eggs and looks after the chicks.’

‘Poor bloke,’ Mitch muttered under his breath as he accelerated back onto the highway. He shot Grace a baleful glance. ‘And where did you learn that?’

‘Oh, I read a lot…’ she answered airily.

They travelled on, companionably silent, as the bush flashed past them—the rough black trunks of ironbarks, the silvery smooth limbs of woollybutts and the deeper red of bloodwoods.

Later in the day, more animals emerged. A butcher-bird startled Grace when it took off suddenly from the side of the road with a long, thin snake in its beak. In the shadowy verges, kangaroos and wallabies slowly edged out for an afternoon graze. It was late in the day by the time they rattled down the final stretch of dirt road to reach Undara.

‘You’ve organised our accommodation, haven’t you?’ she asked warily.

‘Sure have,’ Mitch assured her. ‘We’re also booked in for a meal tonight and our underground tour in the morning. I’ll just head into the office there and pick up our keys.’

Grace watched as he bounded up the three steps and crossed the timber veranda to the reception area. Somehow, despite his city lifestyle, Grace had to admit that Mitch had avoided the urban cowboy image. He really looked as at home in faded blue jeans and scuffed riding boots in the bush as he did in his expensive Italian suits and hand-stitched, shining shoes in the city.

She had the uncomfortable feeling that Mitch was the kind of guy who would look good in any setting—in any clothes. Or without clothes, came the errant thought. She dismissed it quickly.

As he headed back to the truck, he was frowning. He flipped open the door and swung his long frame into the driver’s seat. ‘Minor hitch,’ he mumbled.

Grace’s heart jumped a beat or two. ‘How’s that?’ she whispered.

‘I don’t know how it happened, but there’s been a misunderstanding about our accommodation.’

‘A misunderstanding? Didn’t you know the accommodation here is converted railway carriages?’

‘Yeah. That’s not the problem.’ His dark eyes rested on her and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. ‘Actually, there’s no problem really. At least, there won’t be if you don’t throw a tantrum.’

Alarm sent tiny shivers darting through Grace’s innards. ‘Tantrum?’ she squeaked and then she struggled to gain more composure. ‘I haven’t thrown a tantrum since I was two years old. For heaven’s sake, what are you rambling on about?’

He twisted the key in the ignition and, as the engine chugged back to life, he told her. ‘A couple of busloads of tourists have filled the place up and there’s only one spot left for us. Honestly, I don’t know how they got the idea we were a couple.’

Grace shot him a suspicious glare. ‘You—you mean we have to share a…’

‘A room,’ Mitch supplied.

‘Twin share?’

‘’Fraid not. Double.’

‘We can’t!’ Grace yelled back. She ran nervous hands through her hair. The comfortable safety shield she’d been building all day had suddenly developed huge gaping cracks. ‘This is ridiculous!’ she shouted.

‘We’re not in the city now, Grace. In the bush you take what’s offered.’ Mitch nudged the truck towards the distant row of brown-painted railway carriages lined up in the shade of gum trees. ‘In case you didn’t know, beds are for sleeping, not just for sex. We can build a little barricade with pillows.’

Grace clamped her teeth closed as a screech of frustration threatened.

Mitch shot her a sideways glance. ‘I didn’t think you’d take this news too calmly. Look, it’s a long drive back to anywhere else and we’d only have to come back out here again in the morning,’ he commented. ‘You get all kinds of hazards in remote areas, but I’m game if you are.’

‘Of course you are!’ she cried.

Mitch stopped in their allotted parking bay, outlined by rough bush timber, cut off the engine and turned to her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It’s no skin off your nose to spend one more night in bed with a woman you hardly know. It—it’s your—hobby!’ She flung her hands upwards to emphasise her words.