by Liz Fielding
‘You are soooo thoughtful.’
‘That’s me. A man you can count on in a crisis.’
‘A man you can count on to cause a crisis,’ she retaliated. Then, before they started in on one another again, she said, ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I have something to say so will you just lie there and be quiet for a moment so that I can get it off my chest?’
‘An apology? They’re worse than a trip to the dentist,’ he said sympathetically.
She was forced to bite her lip, take a breath. He really, really didn’t deserve one, but she would apologise if it killed her. ‘The thing is, Gideon… What I have to say is…’
‘I’m not sure that there’s time for this before Francis comes back.’
‘You’re not making this easy.’
‘Sorry…’
It was a deliberate attempt to set her off again, she knew, but she held her breath, stared straight up at the ceiling, refusing to be distracted.
‘What I want to say is that I might… just…be a little bit of a control freak—’
‘What a coincidence. I’d have said that too,’ he broke in, so that she lost the momentum of the apology she’d been rehearsing as she’d counted tablecloths.
Just from his voice, she knew that he was smiling, undoubtedly with smug self-satisfaction. That was his problem, not hers, however, and, before he could say something that would make her forget every one of her good intentions, she pressed on.
‘As I was saying, I have a very real problem with people taking over my life, leaving me without a choice…’
This was where he was supposed to interrupt, say that he understood, that he had been heavy-handed and was sorry. Instead, there was a long pause, then Gideon said, ‘Is that it?’
‘…and, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I apologise for my overreaction to your high-handed actions,’ she spat out through gritted teeth. Then, when he still didn’t leap in to agree that he had been high-handed in the extreme, she added, ‘Although, to be honest, I believe I would have been perfectly justified in dumping you over the railing and leaving you to the mercy of the crocodiles.’ She allowed herself a smile. ‘Okay, that’s it. I’m done.’
‘Well, that’s a relief. I was beginning to think I was the one who should be feeling guilty.’
She didn’t say a word.
‘I see. Right, well, here’s my version of the take it or leave it non-apology. In my company I make the decisions and I expect everyone to do what I tell them—’
‘You must be such fun to work for.’
‘I’m a generous and caring employer—’
‘And maybe just a little bit of a control freak?’
‘On the contrary. I welcome the involvement of my staff, I leave them to run their own departments—which is why I didn’t know about the wedding—and people stay with me because I’m successful.’
‘Yes?’ she prompted, since he seemed to have forgotten the apology bit.
‘But in the future I’ll do my best to remember that you don’t work for me.’
‘In other words, you’ll have a full and frank discussion with me before you start rearranging my life? Even if it means waking me up.’
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.’
‘No? I can see why you’re so at home here, Gideon.’
‘Go on,’ he said, ‘give me all you’ve got.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s obvious. A leopard can never change his spots.’
She’d expected him to come back with a smart answer, but he didn’t say anything.
‘Gideon?’ she prompted after what seemed like an age.
‘Yes,’ he said, obviously coming back from somewhere deep inside his head. ‘I have no doubt that you’ve hit the nail firmly on the head.’
What? She turned to look at him. He too was staring up at the ceiling but, sensing her move, he turned to look at her. Smiled. Not the slow killer smile that melted her inside. It was superficial, lying on the surface, a mask…
‘Now we’ve got all that out of the way, are we going to be room mates?’ he asked. ‘Or, since it’s too late to fly out of here tonight, am I to be banished to the office floor?’
She sighed dramatically. ‘I thought my apology covered that, but here’s how it is. One,’ she said—she would have ticked it off on her finger, but he still had her hand firmly in his—‘since I’ve been informed by Cryssie that you accepted her invitation to the wedding, it’s clear that you have no intention of going anywhere until after the weekend.’
‘We were both just being polite,’ he assured her.
‘Cryssie is a sincere and charming woman. She certainly meant it, even if you didn’t so you’d better start thinking about a wedding present.’
‘Done. And two?’ he said.
‘What?’
‘You said one. I’m assuming there was a two, possibly a three.’
‘Oh, yes. I just couldn’t get past how quickly you could sort out a wedding present.’
‘I’m making a donation to their new charity.’
‘She told you about that? You two did have a nice chat.’
‘Such a sincere and charming woman,’ he agreed. ‘And there’s no such thing as free PR. Two?’
‘Two,’ she said, playing for time while she recalled her train of thought. Oh, yes… ‘Since Health and Safety rules cover everyone—even the boss—it seems that, like it or not, we’re stuck with one another. Control freaks united.’
‘And three?’ he enquired hopefully.
‘There’s no three.’
‘Pity. I liked the way that was going.’
‘Okay, here’s three,’ she said, finally breaking the connection, letting go of his hand and sitting up. ‘You’ve got a reprieve from the office floor, but I haven’t yet decided whether or not you’re going to sleep on this one.’ Then, as he pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the timber wall, ‘Well,’ she said, ‘didn’t you make a fast recovery once you got your own way.’
‘I didn’t say I couldn’t move. I just didn’t want to take a chance on it going again and knocking myself out on the wardrobe door.’
‘Just left it for me to walk into,’ she said, getting up and crossing to the wardrobe, picking out a change of clothes. ‘So you really will be leaving in the morning? I’ll be happy to pack for you,’ she offered quickly, afraid her voice might have betrayed the little flicker of disappointment that had shimmered through her at the thought of him leaving. ‘Just in case your back decides it would rather stay here.’
‘What about the wedding?’
She glanced back at him. He had that delicious rumpled look that only men could pull off without having to spend hours in front of a mirror getting it just right. Too tempting.
‘If the donation was big enough, I’m sure Cryssie would forgive you. Didn’t you say something about having to be in Patagonia?’
‘Did I?’ He shook his head. ‘My deputy has gone in my place.’
‘But you’re a control freak. Won’t leaving something that important to a deputy cause you serious stress?’
Gideon hadn’t given Patagonia a thought since Josie Fowler had waltzed onto his deck wearing nothing but a bathrobe that morning. He’d been having far too much fun teasing her, enjoying the fact that she gave as good as she got, but as she closed the wardrobe door he saw the white full length dress cover hanging over the wardrobe door.
‘What the hell is that?’ he demanded, all desire to tease draining away at the shock of seeing it here, in his room.
‘It’s Cryssie’s dress.’
‘Obviously. What’s it doing here?’
‘We’ve got a photo shoot in the bridal suite tomorrow,’ she reminded him. ‘Exquisite gossamer-draped bed, candles, rose petals, fabulous PR for Leopard Tree Lodge and—’
‘I don’t want it in here,’ he said, on his feet before he had even thought about it.
‘Gideon!’ She put out a hand as if to support him.
&nbs
p; ‘I’m fine!’ he said, brushing her away.
She didn’t back off, but stayed where she was for a long moment. Only when she was sure that he wasn’t going to collapse did she finally let her hand drop, take a step back.
‘It’s not only the photo shoot,’ she said, shaken by his reaction, anxious to make him understand. ‘Tal will be arriving tomorrow afternoon.’
‘So?’
‘Well, it’s obvious. He can’t see it before the big day. It would be unlucky.’
Unlucky…
The word shivered through him and he put his hand flat on the wall, not because of his back but because his legs, having taken him up like a rocket, were now regretting it.
‘It’s not staying in here,’ he said stubbornly.
‘This is my room, Gideon,’ she returned with equal determination. ‘Your decision, remember? And that dress is my responsibility. It’s not leaving here until I take it to Cryssie on her wedding day, along with a needle and thread to put the last stitch in the hem, just as I do for all my brides.’
‘Tradition, superstition, it’s a load of damned nonsense,’ he said furiously. ‘What about the tradition that he doesn’t see her before the wedding? They’re sleeping together, for heaven’s sake.’
‘That’s on the day of the wedding, Gideon. And he won’t. Her chief bridesmaid will spend the night before the wedding with Cryssie and Tal is going to bunk down with his best man…’ Her voice trailed off and she groaned as she realised that plan had flown out of the window when the number one bridesmaid had switched partners.
‘Problem?’ he asked.
‘Just another challenge for Mr Fix-it,’ she replied sharply. Then, her face softening in concern, ‘Maybe you should sit down before you try, though. You look a bit shaky.’
‘I’m okay,’ he said and, pushing himself off, he made it unaided as far as the sofa before the bell rang again. He remained on his feet, helping himself to the whisky from the tray Francis was carrying, downing it in one.
‘Rra!’
‘Sorry,’ he said, replacing it on the tray. ‘Wrong glass. You’d better bring another one.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Josie said quickly.
‘Bring one,’ he repeated angrily. He wasn’t used to having his orders countermanded. ‘What’s special on the menu tonight? Something tasty for Miss Fowler, I hope?’ he continued, not because he was hungry, but because he wanted to annoy her. Wanted her gone…
‘Chef is recommending a tagine of lamb, Rra.’
‘What do you say, Josie?’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘Do you fancy that?’
‘Don’t worry about me, Francis,’ she said, ignoring him. ‘I’ll get a drink in the bar if I want one. And I’ll be eating in the dining room, too. Just bring Mr McGrath whatever Chef’s prepared for him.’
‘You can tell Chef that—’
‘Gideon!’
He lowered himself carefully onto the sofa and said, ‘You can tell Chef that I am sorry he’s been put to such inconvenience, Francis.’
‘He is happy to do it for you, Mr Gideon. We all want you to be better. My wife is hoping that she can welcome you to our home very soon. She wishes to thank you for the books.’
‘I won’t go without visiting her,’ he promised.
‘You bring his wife books?’ Josie asked when Francis had gone.
‘For their children.’ Then, before she could make something of that, ‘So, you’re abandoning me for the delights of the dining room?’
‘You don’t want my company, you just want my lamb,’ she replied. ‘I’m sure whatever the chef makes for you will be delicious.’
‘Low-fat girl food,’ he retaliated. ‘The chilli didn’t do me any harm. Quite the reverse. I was on the mend until you decided to kick me out.’
Until she’d turned up with a wedding dress.
‘I’m not keeping you here,’ she reminded him. ‘And, since you seem to be mobile, there’s no reason for you to stay.’
‘Who’s your date?’ he asked, ignoring her blatant invitation to remove himself.
‘Now you’re on your feet you can come to the dining room and find out,’ she said sharply, taking her tone from him. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, since I’ve been working, I’m going to take a shower.’
‘Don’t forget the matches. You’ll need to light the candles,’ he said as she opened the door. ‘Although, personally, I prefer to shower under starlight.’
‘Have you ever tried to put on make-up by starlight?’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t answer that.’
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked as she hesitated in the doorway.
‘Something…scuttled.’
‘What sort of something?’
‘How the heck would I know? It’s dark.’
‘You’re not scared of spiders, are you?’
‘I can handle the average bathroom spider,’ she said, ‘but this is Africa, where the spiders come larger, hairier. And they have teeth.’
‘Fangs.’
‘Fangs. Great. That makes me feel so much better.’
‘The thing to remember, Josie, is that they’re more frightened of you than you are of them.’
‘You know that for a fact, do you?’ she asked as she returned for the matches.
‘Any creature with two brain cells to rub together is more frightened of us than we are of them. From hippos to ants. They only lash out in panic.’
‘Well, that’s reassuring,’ she said. ‘I’ll do my best not to panic it, whatever it is.’
‘Do you want me to come and guard your back while you’re in the shower?’
She glanced at him and for a moment he thought she was going to say yes. Then, with a determined little shake of the head, ‘I don’t need a guard, I need a light.’
As she looked quickly away, the nets, glowing in the candlelight, moved in the light breeze coming in off the river and she was held, apparently entranced.
‘You don’t get that kind of magic with electricity,’ he said as her face softened.
‘No…’ Then, abruptly, ‘I’ll make sure to mention it to the photographer. Celebrity will like that nineteenth century effect.’
‘I’d be happier if you liked it.’
The words slipped out before he’d considered what they might mean. But then unconsidered words, actions had marked the day. He hadn’t been entirely himself since he’d smelled the tantalising aroma of coffee, caught a glimpse of Josie through the branches.
Or maybe he was being himself for the first time in a decade.
‘It’s a mosquito net,’ she pointed out. ‘What’s to be happy about?’
‘Of course. You’re absolutely right.’
She looked at him as if she wasn’t sure whether he was being serious. That made two of them…
‘So what am I likely to find in the bathroom?’ she demanded. ‘I’m assuming not hippos.’
‘Not great climbers, hippos,’ he agreed. ‘It’s probably just a gecko. A small lizard that eats mosquitoes and, as such, to be welcomed.’
‘Well, great. But will it take a bite out of me?’ she asked.
‘Not if you’re polite,’ he said, wondering if perhaps he might, after all, have hit his head. He didn’t appear to be making much sense. ‘Step on it and all bets are off.’
‘Oh, yuck…’
‘I’m kidding, Josie. They live high on the walls and the ceiling and, anyway, you’ll be safe enough in those boots. Just make sure you shake them out before you put them on in the morning.’
She glared at him.
‘Basic bush-craft.’
Her response to that was alliterative and to the point as she struck a match and, braving the dark, advanced to where a row of tea lights were set in glass holders on a shelf. The flames grew, steadied and were reflected endlessly in mirrors that had been carefully placed to reflect and amplify the light.
‘Okay?’ he called.
‘I can’t see anything that looks as if it’s about to
leap out and devour me,’ she replied. ‘But, while this is all very pretty, I want lamps available for every bathroom. Big, bright gas lamps that will shine a light into every corner.’
‘Where’s the excitement, the adventure in that?’ he asked.
‘Believe me, Gideon, I’ve had all the excitement I can handle for one day.’
‘It’s not over yet,’ he reminded her. ‘Better leave the door open, just in case. All you have to do is scream…’
There was a sharp click as Josie responded by shutting the bathroom door with a firmness that suggested he was more trouble than an entire bath full of spiders.
Maybe she was right.
Gideon set down the glass, his grin fading as he leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes to avoid looking at the wedding dress.
He’d get up, move it in a minute. For now he was content just to sit there, listening to the shower running in the bathroom, the comforting sound of another person sharing his space. Even if she was getting ready for a ‘date’.
Obviously, she was having dinner with Cryssie but the fact that she’d chosen to tease him a little about it brought the smile back to his face. That she’d made the effort to provoke him, maybe make him jealous was a result and he could use that.
Even as the thought slid into his mind he recoiled from it.
He’d been using her all day, having her make phone calls, fetch and carry for him—admittedly with mixed results; she was no pushover. And she hadn’t handed her lunch over without an ulterior motive.
He refused to accept that he was a control freak as she’d suggested, but he was single-minded, totally focused on growing his business.
He’d sorted out her bed shortage simply to prove that he could do it when no one else could.
That was what he did. New challenges, more exciting resorts, ever more extreme adventure breaks—the kind that his father had dismissed as ludicrous.
Who on earth would want to travel across the world to bungee jump? Go dog-sledding in the far north of Canada? Trekking through the Kalahari?
Nothing had mattered more than proving himself better than the adults who, stuck in the past, had been too stupid to listen to a teenage boy who’d seen the future.