Wild About the Man

Nick followed Jabu out to the deck and imitated his friend’s stance, forearms on the railing, beer bottle dangling from two fingers as they scanned the vegetation below. A herd of zebra were grazing to the right, impala were in the thick bush a little way away.

‘We need to move those rhinos we bought from up north,’ Jabu commented.

‘The translocation costs a freaking bomb. The Foundation doesn’t have the cash right now to fund it. The charity ball is in a month’s time, though … I’m hoping for some big donations to come in then. Can we wait that long?’

‘We can but I don’t know about the rhinos.’ Jabu sipped his beer and sent Nick a sly look. ‘How’s your guest?’

Nick shrugged. ‘Dunno. Haven’t seen her. She stays in her room.’

Jabu’s eyebrows lifted. ‘For two days?’

‘Hey, it suits me. She has an attitude that can strip paint off walls.’ Nick blew out his breath. ‘I don’t know what to do about her. She was a royal pain when she stepped off the plane but I can cope with that. But she’s shut herself in her room and doesn’t come out when I’m here. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. I hear her pacing.’ Nick took a pull of his beer. ‘I keep thinking that I should make her work, which is just crazy.’

‘Why?’

‘I doubt she’s worked a day in her life. But I keep remembering what your mother said to me when Terra … you know. That work is the best medicine.’

‘My mama is a wise woman. Crazy mad but wise. I think you’re right. Get her out of that room and interacting with people.’ Jabu pushed off the railing. ‘I must go … I need to spend some time with the kids before bed.’ He took Nick’s empty bottle and shook his head when Nick started to accompany him out. ‘Stay here. Decide what you want to do about Clem. Later.’

‘Night, Jabs.’

Nick returned back to his previous stance and looked down the steep cliff at a chattering dove on a rock halfway down the cliff. The zebras had moved off and a jackal scurried across the bank of the waterhole. The sun dropped behind the thorn trees and the subdued gold between the branches was the same shade as Clem’s hair.

He was tired of living with a ghoul. Like it or not, Clem was going to work.

It felt as if Clem had just drifted off to sleep when Nick yanked back the heavy curtains and bright morning sunlight streamed over her bed and into her eyes. She yelped and covered her eyes as he banged a cup of coffee on the night stand next to her.

‘Coffee,’ Nick told her. ‘Get up, Princess.’

Clem groaned and when her eyes focused on the bedside clock she growled, ‘It’s five o’clock in the morning.’

‘Yeah, and you’re going to be late. Get moving, Red.’ Nick grabbed her mosquito net, spun it and expertly tied it into a knot. He yanked back her sheet and stared down at her long body, barely covered by a tight cotton camisole and low-slung cotton sleeping shorts. The shirt had ridden up to reveal four inches of her flat stomach, complete with a diamond stud in her belly button. Nick immediately wanted to dip his tongue there, feel the contrast between the cool stone and her warm skin.

Clem half sat and glared up at him, pushing her riotous hair back with her hand. ‘What is wrong with you?’

Nick backed away from the bed and placed his fists on khaki-covered hips. ‘Your free ride at Two-B—what we call The Baobab and Buffalo Lodge—is over. You can wallow while you work.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Clem sat up properly and immediately reached for the cup of coffee. She took a sip and closed her eyes in appreciation.

‘You’re going to get out of bed and do some work,’ Nick told her, thinking that he had to get out of her room before he put her to work in a very different, and far more pleasurable, way. He kept seeing places on her body, apart from the obvious, he wanted to explore. A spot on her foot underneath the fine ankle chain, the pulse point at the bottom of her throat, the place where her jaw met her neck that looked so soft, so silky.

Nick hovered by the door. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. We leave then, however you’re dressed.’

Clem stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘No! You’re not the boss of me!’

‘How old are you? Five?’ Nick stalked back to the bed, hiding the fact that he was pleased to see some fire in her eyes, heat in her cheeks. ‘And, actually, I am. This is my house, my property, my business. In case you haven’t noticed, you are sleeping in my bed, drinking my coffee.’ He placed his hands on either side of her on the bed and deliberately caged her in. She smelt of lilies, her amazing eyes had his heart stuttering and it took every bit of willpower he had not to lower his mouth to hers.

‘So, you have two choices. You get your very pretty butt out of bed, into some old clothes—or, in your case, clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty—and get into my vehicle in—’ he looked at his watch ‘—thirteen minutes or you work in your pyjamas. If you don’t want to work, then ask Daddy to send his jet for you but, until it arrives, you will work. Are we clear?’

Clem held the cup near her mouth and he could see that her fingers were trembling. She held his gaze for a minute and he saw the realization dawn that he was as serious as a snake bite.

‘But what am I going to do? I don’t work! I’ve never worked!’ she wailed.

‘Then it’s high time you started,’ Nick suggested and told himself to stand up. He had to repeat the instruction because he was fascinated by the collection of tiny freckles on her nose. ‘Twelve minutes, Red.’

When he reached the door he heard her sigh and the rustle of bedclothes. ‘You are the most high-handed, arrogant, annoying man I’ve ever met.’

Nick grinned. ‘Well, your opinion of me is sure to deteriorate as the day marches on.’

In fact, he could practically guarantee it.

She made it to the vehicle with thirty seconds to spare and clambered over the passenger door, not bothering to try opening the door. Ha, he hadn’t thought she could get ready in time … points for me, Clem thought as she sat down, trying to avoid the broken spring.

‘What are you wearing?’ he demanded.

Clem looked down at her vintage studded denim shorts, frayed at the hem. Admittedly, she usually wore these to go clubbing in, but they also worked with the lace vest she’d pulled on.

‘A taffeta ball gown, obviously.’

‘Those shorts would be declared illegal in some countries. If you were wearing anything shorter, it would be a thong.’

‘Rubbish.’

Clem sat back and mused that she would rather eat worms than admit to Nick that she was glad to be out of the house, that his guest room was becoming claustrophobic and that she could see herself going slowly out of her mind with boredom if she stayed in there one more day.

Even his stupid Lodge and stupider vehicle and this back of beyond place were a welcome relief from the white walls and her own company. She was pretty good at sulking, even better at wallowing, but a girl could only keep it up for a finite length of time.

Yeah, she’d rather eat worms and slugs than admit that.

Clem turned in her seat. ‘So, what do you want me to do? I’m good at talking to people, so I could work with your guests.’

‘I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my guests,’ Nick said, picking up a coffee cup from between his knees and raising it to his lips. Clem sighed; she hadn’t had a chance to have any more of her coffee than a couple of quick hot gulps.

‘So, because I’m basically a reasonable guy, you get a choice of duties.’

Yeah, reasonable like the Black Friday or January sales shoppers.

‘The Baobab and Buffalo Lodge and Animal Rehabilitation Centre employs trainee game rangers and they start at the bottom of the food chain. In addition to their studies—fauna and flora—they are the general skivvies.’ Nick smiled. ‘You’re the latest intern.’

‘So, do people do this willingly or do you blackmail them into being slaves for you too?’ Clem demanded.

‘Blackmail is a harsh word but, in your case, remarkably accurate.’ Nick rested his elbow on the steering wheel. The morning sun caught his two day stubble and picked up the sun-lightened tips of his hair. He looked tough and hard in his Two-B uniform of a navy-blue golf shirt and khaki shorts, a tiny tree embroidered onto the pocket of his shirt above the company name.

This morning his eyes were the shade of moonlight.

‘Normally, I’d never give interns a choice of duties but what the hell. You can clean out the staff bar, called The Pit for a reason. On good nights you need a tetanus jab to go in.’

Clem pretended to think. ‘No.’

‘Ironing? Sheets, duvets, pillowcases.’

‘Still no.’

‘Cleaning toilets?’

‘As if.’

She couldn’t do this, Clem thought. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and go back to London. How bad could it be …? She’d be stalked and hassled by the press everywhere she went but they’d back off. Eventually.

On the plus side, there would be no cleaning, ironing and skanky bars to clean.

Clem stared at her hands and opened her mouth to tell Nick to call her father and ask him for the jet. He beat her to the punch.

‘Yeah, I thought so. You’re just good at looking decorative.’

Clem stared at him as his dismissive words sliced deeper and deeper until they hit her soul.

Temper, hot and wild, shot up from the core of her being and flashed in her eyes. ‘What did you say to me?’ she hissed.

‘I—’

‘How dare you? You don’t get to say that to me. Nobody says that to me any more.’

‘Red …’

‘I took it from him for far too many years but I will not take it from you!’ Clem shouted. Her hands gripped the edge of the ragged seat as she started to shake. Her voice was wobbly but her words were coated with determination. ‘I can take anything that you throw at me.’

Clem, feeling as if she was having an out of body experience, looked at her furious other self and shook her head. No, she couldn’t. She was a pampered society girl …

‘You sure about that, Princess?’

No, not at all sure. Clem wanted to recant but the crazy woman inside had her biting her tongue instead. ‘Do your worst.’

She looked at Nick’s handsome, amused face and his certainty that she would fail stiffened her spine. How dare he dismiss her, assume that he knew her? She was not just a pretty face. She did have more depth than the average puddle.

Maybe. Hopefully.

‘I won’t quit,’ she muttered, mostly to herself.

The man had ears like a bat. ‘Oh, you so will,’ Nick assured her.

She gritted her teeth. ‘Watch me. Do your damnedest, Sherwood.’

‘Seriously?’ Nick laughed. ‘Are you challenging me?’

‘Yeah. I’m tired of stupid men telling me what I am and am not, what I can and cannot do.’ Clem caught the speculative look in his eye and wondered if she hadn’t pushed him a touch too far.

Two voices were clamouring for air time in her head.

Just call your father and go home, the coward in her begged.

But the louder voice was more encouraging. You can do anything you want to. You’re only good at looking decorative, my sweet butt.

That voice sounded strong and powerful and sounded as if it knew what it was talking about.

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