Читать книгу Outback With The Boss - Barbara Hannay - Страница 9

MITCH closed Grace’s preliminary report on location options for New Tomorrow and placed it carefully on his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he glanced at his watch and stretched his arms above him. He was surprised that it was already seven p.m. No wonder his stomach was growling with hunger. In the past three days since he’d arrived in town, there’d been so much work to get through that he’d stayed back in the office each night, then grabbed a snack from the sandwich bar next door rather than eating properly in the hotel’s restaurant.

He allowed his arms to drop again and inter-linked his hands behind his neck. It was his favourite position for thinking.

And he needed to think about Grace Robbins.

This report she’d submitted was impressive. The clear, concise writing, the maps and illustrations, the impeccable layout and thorough attention to detail showed beyond doubt that Grace was absolutely professional. She was one smooth operator.

In the two months since she’d moved from the Sydney office to be part of the advance team working out of Townsville, Grace had assimilated an amazing amount of information about the northern region and all of it was highly relevant to their project. While reading her report, Mitch had become excited by all the potential location sites she’d outlined.

What had really surprised him was her uncanny grasp of what he was trying to achieve with this movie. He’d only sent a fairly sketchy proposal; she hadn’t even read a full script. But it was as if he and Grace had already shared several in-depth conversations about his hopes and expectations for New Tomorrow.

An assistant who could methodically work her way through extraneous details to find exactly what was relevant was a great asset. But one who could also share his artistic vision was a rare find. When her efficiency and presentation skills were also considered, Mitch knew George Hervey had been right. Grace was of inestimable value to the company.

It was a pity these qualities didn’t come with a pleasant, sunny personality. There was only one way to describe Grace—well-balanced—with a huge chip on both shoulders!

Throughout the three days he’d spent in the office, her face had remained a polite, but frowning, almost unfriendly mask. And, while it didn’t particularly bother him, Mitch was beginning to think he’d dreamed up that vision of an alluring, provocative beauty framed by the doorway of Henry Aspinall’s flat.

The way she scurried around the office with her head down, dressed in sombre browns and greys, she looked like a drab brown mouse. It was hard to believe she’d ever made a sexy come-on in her life.

Perhaps he should have said something to clear the air. But he hadn’t wanted any blurring of business and private matters between himself and the woman with whom he had to work so closely.

He flipped open the plastic cover of the report and turned again to Grace’s recommendations. Pen in hand, he read through them once more, circling certain points and making notes in the margins. She had certainly presented some thought-provoking options.

Grace was in the mood for cooking something special. It was an inspiration that didn’t hit her often, so she tended to make the most of it, preparing large quantities that would last her for many meals. Occasionally she felt expansive and threw a dinner party, but tonight she was making her favourite curry and she wasn’t planning on sharing it with anyone.

On the way home from work, she stopped off at the local supermarket and bought all the necessary ingredients. And after a long, warm soak in scented bath oils, she padded into her kitchen, drew the red gingham curtains closed and slipped her favourite Spanish guitar CD into the player.

In the four years she’d worked for Tropicana Films, she’d always made a deliberate effort to separate her work and her leisure. At the end of the working day, she relished time for herself to clear her thoughts. Now it was especially important to forget about her new boss and the persistent, niggling worry that he might have recognised her as the figure flaunting herself in Henry’s doorway.

What if Henry had said something to Mitch?

Shaking her head furiously, she tried to push aside such invasive thoughts and turned up the volume on the CD player. The fluid sounds rippled around her and she began to feel better than she had in days.

Three days.

She hummed softly under her breath as she diced lamb, and chopped onions and garlic. And within twenty minutes the small kitchen was redolent with the rich fragrance of lamb simmering in curry leaves, fresh coriander, crushed cummin and chilli.

Totally absorbed in her task, she was stirring in the final ingredient, coconut milk, when a knock on her door startled her. Quickly, she lowered the heat and snatched up a towel to wipe her hands as she headed for the door.

The last person she expected to find on her doorstep was Mitch Wentworth. Grace’s heart plummeted.

‘Wow, something smells wonderful.’ He sniffed the air appreciatively.

‘Er, hello, Mr Wentworth,’ she murmured, only just resisting the temptation to slam the door in his face. At least she was fully clothed this time. Not that her favourite old tracksuit was exactly suitable attire for greeting the boss. Especially when he was still in the elegantly tailored business suit he wore to the office. Her hand strayed to her hair which, aided by the soak in the bath and the warmth of the kitchen, had loosened and begun to fall in wispy strands around her face. She rubbed one bare foot against the other. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Do I smell roghan josh curry?’ Mitch asked.

Her eyes widened. ‘Madras, actually,’ she answered warily. Surely he wasn’t looking for a meal?

‘Ah, yes. I should have noticed.’ Mitch smiled and Grace took a step back. She needed to put some distance between herself and that smile. ‘There is faint aroma of coconut,’ he agreed. ‘Roghan josh has yoghurt, doesn’t it?’

‘You—you like curries?’ Why did she ask? Every man she’d ever met liked curries. But rarely were they so familiar with the details of the ingredients. ‘This one needs to simmer for a good while yet,’ she hastened to add, in case he had any bright ideas about inviting himself for dinner.

‘There’s no need to look so nervous, Grace. I won’t be invading your privacy for very long,’ Mitch reassured her as if he’d been reading her mind. ‘And I’m sure Henry Aspinall would have something to say if I ate his share of dinner.’

‘Hen—Henry?’ Grace stammered. What exactly did he know about Henry?

‘He’s been chasing me to look at his graphic designs and when I first met him he mentioned you and he were…good friends.’

‘Oh.’ Grace gulped. Nervously, she waited to see if Mitch was going to expand on this information. When he didn’t, she added, ‘So why have you come here?’

‘Do you mind if I come in for just a moment? There are a few things I need to discuss with you and I’d like to clear them up tonight.’

Mitch expected her hesitation, but he also knew Grace would invite him in. She had seen that he was holding the folder with her report and curiosity sparked from her green eyes. Valiantly ignoring his hunger pangs, he followed her into the small sitting room, rich with the fragrant, spicy smells that drifted from her kitchen.

He couldn’t help noticing that it was a lovely room—not extravagantly decorated, but comfortable and welcoming. And the raw, emotive passion of the guitar music in the background was a surprise. Another layer to the Grace Robbins enigma.

Mitch’s gaze roved slowly around the cosy setting. The lighting was low, creating a soothing mood. And the warm, natural earth colours of the terracotta tiled floor and the two large Aboriginal paintings dominating the main wall gave a sense of mellowness. In the opposite corner, beneath a black and white movie poster of Bogey and Bacall, a fat earthenware pot held a sheaf of dried grasses. Beside it sat an overly plump floor cushion covered with a stone-and claret-coloured design.

He’d rarely settled in one spot long enough to establish his own home, but when he did make purchases these same earthy tones, sunburnt ochres and browns were the colours that always attracted him.

The chocolate brown sofa was deep and soft and Mitch sank into it gratefully. Grace sat opposite him on a woven cane chair and clutched at a sienna and black striped cushion as if her life depended on it. Nevertheless, he didn’t miss the way she curled into the deep chair with catlike elegance.

‘You decorated this place yourself?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I thought the New Tomorrow project would take long enough to warrant moving all my gear from Sydney.’

Mitch nodded. ‘It’s very attractive. I’m looking forward to finding a home base for myself.’ His glance drifted to the fish tank on a stand behind her chair. Two goldfish and a black fish. ‘I have a sister-in-law who is a feng shui expert. She claims that aquariums are very helpful for creating…’ he paused, searching for the right word, but gave up with a smiling shrug ‘…a happy environment.’

Grace’s mouth twitched as she gestured to the fish. ‘I’ve read that. These guys are the Marx Brothers.’

‘Let me guess. The black one is Groucho.’

‘Of course.’ She laughed. Then she looked startled as if she hadn’t meant to let down her guard. ‘Um—what did you want to speak about?’

She was edgy—probably in a hurry to get rid of him before Aspinall turned up. Mitch suppressed a sigh as he pictured the other man wolfing down her delicious meal. He avoided thinking of any other delights in store for Henry Aspinall by flipping her report onto his knee and tapping his finger against the cover. ‘This is good, Grace. Very good. I have to say I’m very impressed by how quickly you’ve made yourself familiar with the North Queensland territory.’

Her eyes lit up with pleasure. Mitch found their sudden sparkle arresting.

‘It’s very interesting country,’ Grace replied, unconsciously crossing one long, towelling-clad leg over the other. ‘As I said in my report, I think there are many location options on our back doorstep.’

Mitch had never noticed before just how sexy faded blue terry towelling could be. He dragged his gaze away. Her body shouldn’t, couldn’t be a factor here. Praising her business skills was the way to win over Grace Robbins. ‘Your report is very persuasive. That’s why I’m here tonight. I’d like to start investigating some of these outback locations straight away.’

‘Immediately?’

‘Tomorrow morning.’

She nodded thoughtfully and Mitch could sense her thoughts whirling behind those wide green eyes as she calculated what needed to be done. ‘You’d definitely check out Undara?’ she queried.

He referred to his scribbled notes. ‘The ancient lava tubes? Yes. They sound fantastic for the underground scenes. And I want to look at some of the old deserted mining towns, too.’

‘Like Ravenswood or the Mount Surprise district?’

‘They’re the ones.’ Mitch nodded.

‘You’d hire a four-wheel drive?’

Mitch could tell that she was catching onto his enthusiasm. The cushion she’d been clutching earlier slipped unheeded to the floor.

‘I think that would be best. Then I could mosey on and explore more of the outback. I want to take a good look at the Gulf country. There’s so much great wilderness terrain out there.’

‘And with its own peculiar kind of beauty,’ Grace supplied. She leaned forward, an excited pink tinting her cheeks. ‘I’m sure you’ll find just what you’re looking for in the Gulf.’

For the briefest moment, Mitch had the eerie feeling that there was something deeply prophetic about her words—as if he would actually find something much more meaningful than a location for his film. He blinked and shook his head. Grace might be clever, but she could not see into the future. Working overtime on top of jet lag could produce the weirdest sensations.

He smiled at her. ‘You understand what I’m looking for, don’t you?’

‘I—I think so.’ Perhaps he was staring too intently. Her cheeks grew pinker and she looked away for a moment.

‘This industry is a dog-eat-dog world. And filming at a great location will give my movie the kind of competitive edge I need.’

She seemed to recover, giving a little shake, and as she spoke she met him once more with a level gaze. ‘As I understand it, you’re hoping to create a kind post-World War III scenario—a world where the people who are left will start all over again. The old world is lost or contaminated except for this small section of land and it is pure and unpolluted. So you want something isolated—pristine, untouched.’

Mitch jumped to his feet. ‘That’s exactly what I’m looking for. It’s great that you understand. And that’s why you’ll be coming with me.’

The look of horror that swept across her features shocked him. He hadn’t expected opposition from someone so deeply involved with the film.

‘You’ll help me check out the locations, of course.’

‘Oh, no. I can’t. I—I can’t possibly,’ she stammered.

‘Why not?’ He’d set his mind on having her with him. Her knowledge, the research she’d already undertaken, was invaluable.

‘I have so much to do.’ Her hands were twisting nervously in her lap. She looked so frightened, Mitch wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. What kind of a man did she think he was?

‘I’m the boss, Grace. I know exactly what you have to do. And I know you can spare the time for this trip.’

What had he done wrong to upset her so badly? How could she be so keen one minute and then suddenly back off as if he’d turned into a ghoulish monster? Mitch paced the length of her fashionable hand-woven rug. Caught up with the positive tone of her report, he had come tonight with the expectation that Grace would see it as her professional duty to accompany him—no matter what her personal hang-ups were. And now he was prepared to be as stubborn as was necessary.

He wasn’t leaving until she said yes.