Resisting Nick (Wicked in Wellington) (17 page)

“And that’s who you dressed up for?” Anita persisted.

“Yes, but that was business psychology. We wanted to look very professional and try and swing a deal in Australia.”

“Mmmmmmm.”
 

There was such speculation in her voice that Sammie quickly said, “Gotta go. See you around six,” and disconnected.

After lunch, she took a deep breath and swung into action. She searched through the files until she found the CVs of the people who’d applied for Tyler’s job. It was no surprise Julie had been the top candidate—her skills outshone the other four on the shortlist. But Julie had walked out and left Nick in the lurch.
 

She skip-read all the dossiers and tried to imagine each applicant doing the job. A girl called Clare had all the necessary skills, but the smiling photo clipped to the corner showed a broad face, an extra chin, and pudgy shoulders—and however unfair it might seem, BodyWork needed a front person who reflected the business they were in. Sorry Clare.

Maybe Tyler could help? On impulse, she telephoned the hospital. “Hi. How’s motherhood now you’ve had another day of it?”
 

“Sammie—wonderful! She’s so cute I can’t believe she’s mine. How are things going with you?”

“Everything’s under control. Mostly because Nick’s away in Auckland today.”

She hesitated just a fraction too long and perceptive Tyler asked, “But?”

“Yeah...but. And it’s a big one. I can’t stay here. I need to find a replacement.”

“I thought you were fitting in so well?”

Sammie wondered how much to tell her. Just enough, she hoped. “It’s not the job. It’s Nick.”

“Aren’t you getting on?”

A small sad laugh escaped. “Yes, we’re getting on. But it turns out I knew him when I was a teenager and it’s making things awkward. We used to have a little thing going, and it’s in the way. I don’t want to resurrect it.”

“But he does?”

She blew out a big sigh. “For a bit of fun maybe, and to take his mind off his awful family. But not seriously, no. And I’m not up for that because I need to go and see all the places Mom and Dad dreamed of and never got to.”
 

“You and Nick?” It was asked cautiously.

“Years ago, and it was never anything much. I mean—it was never anything at all, but it could have been if I
was older.”

Damn, this isn’t sounding the way I meant it to.
 

“I didn’t even recognize him on Monday,” she added. “He’s changed a heap.”

“Always gorgeous, I bet.”

“At sixteen? Nowhere near as tall or ripped as he is now. No manners. But fascinating in a brooding, angry sort of way.”

“Still is.”

“Maybe.” She picked up a pen from the desk and continued briskly, “But I can’t stay at BodyWork or it’ll blow up in my face. I’ve been looking at the batch of CVs that included Julie’s. Was there anyone else useful?”

Tyler squawked with alarm. “Don’t even
think
about it. No, there wasn’t. Nick and I interviewed all five. The two next best looked good on paper but had no personalities. You need a bit of bounce to front that place.”

“So I’d better get another temp?”

“‘Fraid so.

Sammie decided a change of subject was called for. “Does your beautiful daughter have a name yet?”

“No, we’re getting nowhere,” Tyler said, adding a happy laugh. “I like Georgia, Cam likes Sophie, and Mom’s holding out for Charlotte.”

Another voice became audible in the background.

“Do you have visitors?”
 

“Only Mom—just arrived.”

“I’ll get back to work then,” she said, grateful for the excuse to conclude the conversation.
 

Her mobile beeped from the top drawer of her desk.
 

MISS U.

She buried her face in her hands, not wanting him to miss her, or text her, or make this any harder than it already was. Her pulse had speeded up with just that tiny contact. Poor, silly pulse.

Dinner went well and the boys invented games for Zorro which involved string and stalking and chasing after pieces of kibble.

“Can we have a cat, Mom?” Charlie begged.

“I want a dog,” Josh wheedled.

“Well, maybe we could think about a nice little poodle now we’re not in New York?”
 

“Mo-om!” the boys chorused, outraged.

Ray grinned at their reaction. “A big woofy black Labrador?”

“Yay, Dad!”

“Really, Ray.”

Sammie watched, and listened and laughed. With Ray being ten years older, she’d never had brothers or sisters to interact with like this. Never been part of a normal family team. It seemed she’d found one right as she planned to leave them behind.
 

“I’m starting my Pilates tomorrow,” Anita confided. “Eleven o’clock. Just a long T-shirt and some leggings, Heidi said. Is that what they all wear? No tracksuits?”

Sammie recalled the obviously new cream one Anita had bought. “You can wear a trackie to and from the fitness center, but you won’t want it for the class. Some of them look like they’ve dressed out of the rag-bag.” She registered Anita’s disappointed expression and added, “You only need to be comfortable. Lycra leggings and a big T-shirt until you’re in good shape, and then you can wow them all in a little sports-bra top.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” Anita said, turning pink and contemplating the final picture.

Ray cleared his throat, possibly doing the same.

Once her visitors had left, Sammie ripped the discolored tape off one of the boxes she’d brought up from the car—the one labeled ‘diaries’. They’d been packed for years, ever since the orchard days. Grandma had regularly documented her life, but until now, Sammie hadn’t felt free to read the results. Tonight she had time on her hands and a yearning to know more about family things.

She presumed Grandpa had packed them away years ago. Like everything he did, they were all in order. The oldest sat on top, just waiting for her. Kicking off her shoes, she settled down on the sofa.

She opened the red leather cover and smiled at her grandmother’s careful loopy handwriting—the same writing that had graced every birthday card of her first sixteen years.

December 9th 1950. Yesterday I married my dear Erik. He looked so handsome in his wedding suit. Tall and fair and absolutely Swedish. We are driving up to the Bay of Islands for our honeymoon. Tonight we are in the Grand Hotel in Auckland. I’m sitting on our bed writing this, no doubt crushing the olive green chenille spread.
 

It was easy to picture the old-fashioned room—probably with the shiny woodgrain Formica furniture that would have been all the rage then. Sammie adjusted the cushions to make a more comfortable nest and sank happily into the past.

January 14th 1953. After many disappointments, I am finally to be a mother. Erik hopes for a boy of course, but we shall have to wait and see who God sends us.

She read on about the antenatal check-ups, other friends who were also pregnant. Grandpa’s tender care.

September 5th 1953. Penelope Jane arrived a little early but healthy. The doctors seem concerned about my blood loss, but nothing can diminish the joy I feel now I hold my own babe in my arms.

Sammie smiled at her happiness. And wondered if this was the start of Grandma’s continuing indifferent health. But finally she might know more about her mother. The things she would have liked to ask about, and been robbed of at fifteen, could be here.

March 19th 1965. Penny has joined the Girl Guides. She is growing into a tomboy and I hope the female company will be helpful for her.
 

Nope, didn’t work.
Her Mom had always worked side by side with her Dad. They were practically joined at the hip. If there were trees to be felled or planks to be painted—or a boat to be built—Mom was there doing it too. Her parents had been best friends as well as husband and wife, and Sammie had known she was never quite part of their golden partnership.
 

She yawned and glanced at her watch. After eleven! She’d been so fascinated reading about her grandparents’ first fifteen years of marriage and her mother’s early life that her sense of time had deserted her. She peered into the box. There were still plenty of diaries left.

‘Thank you Grandma,’ she whispered as she rose and went to undress for bed.
 

Her mobile beeped.

CAN I CALL BY.

So he’d landed, and wanted to play?

She ignored it for a few minutes, but then panicked in case he simply turned up at the door.

NO, she texted back, heart in her throat, hating him for making her act so hard hearted. Hating herself for turning him down.

She arrived at work at eight-thirty next morning, armored in jeans and the polo shirt she’d worn on her first day, determined to broach the subject of her replacement. The early Step class panted and pounded behind the glass, bright T’s splotched with perspiration. She hurried through to the staff room, stowed her bag and jacket away, and set the coffee machine going. Nick’s door was shut. A confidential phone call? Or hadn’t he arrived yet?

The moment she sat down at her desk an email dinged through.

‘Samantha.’

So he was there.
‘I have coffee on,’
she emailed back.

It didn’t take long for his reply.
‘Need you now.’

She expelled her breath and rubbed her suddenly itchy neck as she rose. This wasn’t going to be easy.

The handle turned under her damp palm, the door opened, and the hinges gave a long slow squeal. Nick seemed to be nowhere in sight.
 

She took two uncertain steps into his office. “Nick?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Sammie.” He moved from behind the door, pushed it closed, and crowded her back. He pinned her against it, needing to be close to her again. She’d been on his mind from the moment he’d left—like a grain of sand that itched and abraded and kept reminding him his defenses had been breached.
 

God she was sweet. And trying to twist out of his embrace! He grabbed her arms, holding her so he could kiss her, but she wrenched her head aside and his lips slid down her neck. He ended up with his nose buried against her collar, breathing in the sweet smell of her soft skin.

“Wait, Nick.”

What the hell had gone wrong? He’d left her naked and purring, and now she’d turned into the ice princess? Suspicion began to spark in his brain.

“Where were you last night?” He pulled back just enough to focus on her eyes.

“At home.”

Sudden fury flamed from the initial spark. He’d assumed she’d caught a movie or been out visiting friends. Either of those he could take, but not outright rejection.

“Why wasn’t I welcome?”

“Because we’ve got to stop this.”

No way
, he thought, already hard, already wanting her so much it hurt. “Why?” he demanded.

“I’ve told you and told you.” She drew a deep breath and her breasts pushed against his chest, deepening the ache. “I’m not here for much longer. I’m going to travel. I don’t want to get involved.”

He sent her a scathing look. “You’re already ‘involved’.”

She looked away and bit down on her bottom lip.
 

Total giveaway, Sammie. I’m reading you like a book.

“And I’m already ‘involved’ too,” he grated. “Does this feel like nothing to you?” He released one of her arms and tilted her head up, holding it back against the door with a hand across her throat so he could look into her expressive eyes again.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, probably panicked by his extreme reaction.
 

He pulled his hand away, cursing and muttering an apology. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but he needed this sorted, wanted her with him. “Do you think it’ll be any harder parting in a fortnight’s time, Sammie? We can’t be in much deeper than we already are.” He stroked a hand down her cheek, unable to stop touching her. “Right now I want to be with you. I think you feel the same.”

She closed her eyes and shut him out. Enraging as that was he took consolation from the fact he could now feel her trembling. Definitely involved, and reacting to him as strongly as he had to her. Was that what it took? Acknowledgement they were in this together?

“Come to Sydney with me,” he urged. “I want you there for a couple of days while I check out properties. Start your traveling somewhere easy, and with a friend.”

He watched as her eyelashes lifted and her green eyes fixed on his again. “I need you there with your secretary’s notebook and sexy shoes,” he tried.

That teased a reluctant grin from her, and at last he relaxed a little.

“I’m not trailing you miles around Sydney in high heels. Anyway, you’re out of luck because I don’t have my passport yet. It might be ages.”

He breathed out long and slow.
Okay, situation
defused. Work still needed though.
“So I’d better not lock the door and throw you on my desk today?”

“Damn right,” she agreed, pushing up on her toes. “This is all you get.” She brushed her lips over his and turned to leave.
 

The sweetness of her sudden capitulation almost floored him. “Hey,” he murmured, guard down, relief high. “One day away from you and I’m begging. This isn’t good.” He pulled her back, and she tucked her face in against his chest, avoiding any further contact with his lips.

Her scent floated around him like sunshine. Nick pulled her closer and closer until he felt nothing but searing desire and the desperation of needing much more than she seemed willing to give.

His mobile finally split them apart. Grumbling, he reached for it and eyed the screen before answering. “Glen,” he said, stroking Sammie’s breast before she twisted away. “How’s Sydney shaping up? Any more news from Rod?”
 

Sammie wrenched herself from Nick’s embrace and pulled his office door open. The morning wasn’t going to plan, but she now fizzed as though vintage champagne filled her from scalp to sneakers.