by Holly Ford
‘Hi,’ she called, in response to a tap on the dining room door. ‘Come on in.’ She’d asked Mitch to pop in and see her when he got back from checking the snow fence above Luff’s ahead of the autumn muster. Tess angled the screen of her laptop down a little.
‘Oh,’ she said, as the door opened. ‘Hey.’
It was Nate standing in the doorway.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Stan told me I’d find you in here.’
‘That’s okay.’ She closed the screen completely. ‘What do you need? Is everything all right?’
‘You said I could go through the stuff in the office sometime.’
‘Sure.’ Tess stretched her shoulders. Noticing that Nate was already scrubbed up and in a clean shirt and jeans, she checked her watch. Bloody hell. So much for the afternoon. She heaved herself to her feet. ‘You feel like a beer with that?’
Fossicking a couple out of the fridge, she wandered through to join Nate in the office.
‘What would you think,’ she asked, handing a stubby to him, ‘if I sent you an email from a private address instead of a work one?’
‘I’d think I was in,’ Nate grinned.
Tess rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously,’ she insisted.
‘You’re not still trying to decide if you’re dating your boss?’
‘It’s just a question. What would you think?’
He sighed. ‘I guess I’d think you had something to say to me you didn’t want to say as my employer.’ Nate paused, giving her a searching look. ‘This really matters to you, doesn’t it?’
Well, duh. ‘Of course it does.’
‘Look. Here’s the thing – it isn’t important what he means now. It isn’t important how the night starts. You can turn it into whatever you want. If you want it to be a date, then make it one.’
Oh yeah, that sounded easy. ‘How?’
‘Just act like that’s what it is. He’ll get the idea.’
‘You’re saying’ – Tess shifted a little – ‘I should come on to him.’
‘Jesus.’ Sitting down on the bed, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m not saying you have to rip the guy’s trousers off. Just flirt a bit.’
‘I don’t think I’m very good at that.’
Nate shot her a look. ‘You don’t?’
‘Not when I’m really interested,’ she confessed.
‘Oh, when you’re really interested.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Of course that’s different. I see.’
‘When I actually try,’ Tess went on, ignoring the barb, ‘it never seems to work.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure,’ she laughed.
He took a mouthful of beer. ‘Show me,’ he said.
‘I’m not going to show you.’
‘Go on, I dare you. Give me your best I’m-into-you face. Let me see what it looks like, at least.’
Tess looked at him.
Nate grinned. ‘Pretend I’m Mark.’
‘I was.’
‘You’re kidding. That was it? I’ve seen you look more interested than that in a pack of pour-on.’ He shook his head.
‘Okay,’ she bit back, ‘you’re the expert. What should I do?’
‘For god’s sake, it’s not rocket science. Make eye contact. Smile. Get close.’ His cheek dimpled. ‘Accidentally show him some leg. That ought to do it.’
Tess blushed.
‘Look,’ Nate said, more seriously, ‘it’s a ball, right? Get on the dance floor. Wait for the right song, and you can get away with pulling pretty much any move you want.’
‘To the Empire Dance Orchestra? I don’t think so.’
‘When is this date, 1946?’
‘It’s a white-tie do,’ she explained. ‘They’ve got some kind of 1930s theme going on. I don’t think there’ll be a lot of twerking.’
‘So you’ll be slow dancing,’ he shrugged. ‘Even better.’
‘Except’ – Tess glanced down at the edge of the tatty carpet – ‘that I don’t know how.’
‘You did all right,’ Nate said, ‘if I remember.’
Not exactly a ringing endorsement. ‘But you knew what you were doing,’ she felt the need to point out. ‘Mark probably won’t.’ What man under seventy did?
‘Well, I can’t help you there.’ There was enough of a sting in Nate’s voice to imply that Mark’s inadequacy might extend to more than dancing.
He eased himself to his feet. Putting his beer down on the desk, he took a step towards her. Hyperconscious, suddenly, of the doorframe between her shoulderblades, Tess watched him take another.
‘But slow dancing’s easy,’ he said softly. ‘Give me your hand.’
Oh god. She had. Tess stared at his fingers encircling hers. What the hell had she done that for? The gentle pressure of his thumb on the back of her hand was travelling through her whole body, its motion a velvet cord tugging at every erogenous zone she possessed.
‘There’s no room in here.’ Drawing her away from the doorframe, Nate led her through to the lounge. ‘Now.’ Raising her hand, he looked her over.
Tess hoped she had a neutral expression firmly bolted to her face. Her only option now was to go through with this. Anything else would just make matters worse.
‘What are you wearing?’
What? She glanced down at herself. Jeans and a checked shirt – the same thing she always wore.
‘Not now,’ he laughed. ‘I mean what sort of dress are you going to be in?’
She could feel her colour rising again. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ she hedged.
‘It’ll change where he holds you,’ Nate said. ‘He’s a gentleman, right? So he’s going to want to keep it high, like this.’ He placed his right hand under her shoulderblade, his fingertips finding, as if by magic, the strap of her bra. ‘Okay,’ he smiled, ‘maybe not quite that high.’ His hand slid down her ribs a little. ‘But he’ll be nervous. He won’t feel like he’s allowed to touch your bare skin. So if your dress has a low back …’ Nate’s hand dropped to the top of her jeans, the fingers spreading down. ‘Any lower than that and you’ve got him in trouble.’
‘It doesn’t,’ Tess said quickly. ‘It’s high. Above my bra.’
His hand rose again. ‘Is it tight?’ he asked. ‘Does it have straps?’
‘Thin straps.’ She looked away. ‘And no, it’s loose. Kind of floaty, I guess.’
‘Is it the dress you wore to Ash’s wedding?’
‘Yes,’ she ground out. She had no idea where to look now. ‘Does that make some kind of difference?’
‘No.’ Nate sounded highly amused. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’
Stepping backwards, Tess removed her hand from his. ‘Look, this is a bad idea.’
‘Come on.’ Grinning hugely, he held out his arms again. ‘Do you want to learn how to do this or not?’
Somehow, she found herself stepping back in. It was important to be a good sport, after all. He was trying to help. This would only be weird if she made it that way.
‘Put your hand on my shoulder,’ Nate reminded her.
Tess laid it there as lightly as she could, trying not to think about the hard curves under his shirt.
‘Close your eyes.’
‘What for?’
‘So you can feel me move.’
Oh god, oh god. Maybe closing her eyes was a good idea. Tess squeezed them shut. Just act like this was normal. ‘Don’t we need music?’ she protested feebly. ‘How am I supposed to know when to step?’
‘You step when you feel the pressure,’ he said. ‘Here.’ His hand pressed a little more firmly against her ribs, her spine arching as he brought her body closer. ‘Or here.’ The ball of his thumb pressed the pad of hers. ‘The trick is’ – as he stepped forward, she automatically took a step back – ‘to forget about the music. I might have no rhythm at all’ – Nate piloted them sideways – ‘but if you move when I move’ – he brought them back – ‘we’ll be dancing. See?’
Opening her ey
es, Tess looked up at him. ‘But that’s because you’re leading. What if he doesn’t do that?’
‘Maybe you should dance with somebody else.’
‘Seriously,’ she frowned. ‘What do I do?’
He sighed. ‘Well, I guess you have to try to lead him.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Without swapping your hands?’ She watched Nate give it some thought. ‘Okay. Let’s try this. Drop your hand a bit.’
‘Like this?’ Tess slid her left hand down to his chest.
‘Here.’ Taking her wrist, he laid her palm against the ball of his shoulder. ‘And come in closer. That should help out on a couple of counts.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘That’s it, get as much of your forearm touching me as you can. Okay. Now try moving forward.’
As she tried to obey, their bodies collided. Nate’s arm tightened briefly on her back. ‘I didn’t say shove me,’ he said.
‘What then?’
‘Gentle pressure.’ He swept her back a step. ‘Like I’ve been doing to you.’
‘I don’t know what you’re doing to me,’ she protested.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then I’m doing it right.’ He loosened his grip a little. ‘Try it again. Lock your core and press with your whole upper body, not just your arms.’ As she did, Nate took a step backwards. ‘There you go … Now you want me to move to the side, so press that way, good … And pull back, fingers behind my shoulder, keep your right arm strong … That’s it. That actually kind of works.’
He looked so pleased with himself she had to smile. ‘Any more tips?’ she joked.
‘It doesn’t have to be this formal,’ he said. ‘If I’m dancing with Great Aunt Alice I hold her like this. If I’m with a woman I—’ Nate paused. ‘I’m really interested in, I might hold her hand more like this.’
Ah yes. Tess swallowed as his thumb slid from her fingers into her palm, turning her hand in his as it settled into the grip she remembered.
‘So if I want to,’ he continued, ‘I can do something like this.’ His thumb moved down, tracing her lifeline, brushing across the inside of her wrist.
Tess resisted the urge to close her eyes again. Okay, she needed to put a stop to this. Now. While she still could. His thumb travelled over her palm again, returning to the Aunt Alice grip.
‘I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘My hand’s the wrong way.’ His fingers opened as she slid hers down his palm. ‘I’d have to do something like this.’ Experimentally, she moved her thumb over the ball of his, finding and circling the softer skin below.
‘That works,’ Nate said softly.
Jesus. What the hell was wrong with her? Tess looked up at him. ‘What else do I need to know?’
‘You should try letting your hair down,’ he said.
Ugh. ‘You’re saying I’m uptight.’ God, she could feel it herself, how rigid, how tense she was in his arms.
‘No.’ Nate’s right hand took the clip from her hair. ‘I’m saying you should let your hair down.’ For a second, he watched it fall loose. Then his eyes locked on hers. As they moved slowly down to her mouth, she felt her lips part, the last gasp of her willpower as it fled.
‘You staying for tea, Nate?’ Stan sauntered across the room, heading for the open window.
‘No, mate.’ As Nate let go of her, Tess backed away, trying not to breathe. ‘I’ll be heading home.’
Stan closed the sash. ‘Won’t be long now.’
‘Thanks, Stan.’ Having made it a safe distance from Nate, Tess found her voice. ‘I’ll come through.’
‘No rush.’
‘It’s okay.’ She didn’t dare look at Nate. ‘We’re all finished in here.’ Pulse hammering, she followed Stan out into the hall.
He stopped at the kitchen doorway to let her through. Walking past, Tess thought she heard him sniff.
‘What is it?’
‘There’s something different about you,’ Stan said, ‘isn’t there? Something soft. It smells a bit like lamingtons.’
‘It’s my hair,’ she admitted gruffly. Nate still had the bloody clip. ‘Coconut-vanilla conditioner.’
‘Well,’ Stan said, ‘it’s very nice, love.’
Eleven
It wasn’t until the next morning that Tess got her brain back in order enough to realise that Mitch had never turned up. Or at least, she hoped he hadn’t. The other option was that he’d arrived to see her and Nate doing whatever the hell that had been last night and run away.
What had she been thinking? Okay, she knew exactly what she’d been thinking, but god, it shouldn’t be this difficult not to sleep with a guy. What did she need, a daily calendar reminder? Task of the day: do not touch Nate. Do not let him touch you. Don’t look at him, don’t flirt with him – but she couldn’t not talk to him, and every time she did, the rest of it just happened. Fast. Tess shook her head. Well, when it came to giving lessons in how to seduce your boss, she couldn’t argue with his qualifications.
With an effort, she dragged her mind back to Mitch and the fence he’d gone to check. If they needed supplies, she wanted the invoices through the books before the end of the month. Mitch had probably already talked to Nate, but that chain of command was a habit she needed to break. And besides, she knew which of them she’d be more comfortable talking to today. Tess looked at her watch. It was getting on for morning tea time, and raining the sort of thin, needling rain that hardly seemed worth bothering about but had a habit of working its way through to your skin. If she drove down to the house in half an hour or so, there was a good chance she might catch him.
Pulling up outside the solid brick and tile bungalow Mitch shared with Harry forty minutes later, Tess had the feeling her journey had been wasted. She could hear the dogs going spare in their runs on the other side of the hedge, but the house looked deserted. She hopped out of the HiLux and walked up the concrete path to knock on the door, not expecting a reply. Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she realised a side window was open, a wet curtain flapping in and out on the wind. Which was odd, given that it had started raining during the night.
She gave the door a decent rap and stood back, waiting. There was no hint of movement inside. Tess knocked louder. The dogs started up again, but she could make out no other reply. Okay. Should she go in and close the window? Deciding she should, Tess put her hand to the door. As she’d expected, it wasn’t locked.
‘Mitch?’
She walked into the hall. Two bedroom doors stood open. She hadn’t been in the house before, but it wasn’t hard to guess which was whose. Turning her back on the chaos that was Harry’s room, Tess headed for the open window above Mitch’s neatly made bed, trying not to let her eyes linger on the personal stuff around her. On the nightstand, there was a photograph of him with a girl, the stone wall of what looked like an English country pub behind them. Reaching above the bed, she pulled the window to and latched it. The pillow and the top half of the duvet were soaking wet.
With an increasing sense of unease, she walked through to the back of the house. There was unopened mail on the kitchen table, and four new messages flashing on the answering machine. A fair few to get in a morning.
Quickly, she checked the other rooms in the house. They were all open, and empty. Tess swore under her breath. Had Mitch taken off again? Had Nate been lying to her about how often this went on? If he had, she’d bloody well … But Mitch wouldn’t have left his window open, would he, if he was going for days?
Making her way back through the kitchen, she stepped out onto the porch. There was plenty of footwear there. Harry’s work boots, some trainers, a few pairs of gumboots … But no RAF boots. No boots that looked like they could be Mitch’s at all.
Shit.
Outside, she crossed the garden to check on the dogs. Harry’s were there. Two of Mitch’s were gone.
In the HiLux, Tess put her foot down.
She could see Nate through the window of the cottage, feet up on the coffee table, a mug in
one hand and half a piece of toast in the other, watching Ellen on TV. He got up in a hurry as she strode up the steps.
‘Look, about last night,’ he began, opening the door.
Tess shook her head quickly. ‘When was the last time you saw Mitch?’
Nate thought about it. ‘The day before yesterday. Why?’
‘I don’t think he made it back from Luff’s last night.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Harry would have said something if he hadn’t turned up.’
‘Harry’s away. I ran into him driving out yesterday morning.’
Nate swore softly. ‘That’s right. He’s in town. His parents are having some do.’
‘Did you take Mitch some mail yesterday?’
‘Yeah.’ His face was serious now. ‘I dropped it off on my way to see you.’
‘It’s still sitting on the table. There are a whole lot of messages on the machine, and it looks like the window was open all night.’ Tess paused. ‘The bed’s soaking wet. Mitch couldn’t have been in it.’
Nate’s frown deepened. ‘Did you—’
‘There are no boots,’ she cut in.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Okay.’ He let out his breath. ‘I’m going to take the Robbie up, see what I can see.’
Tess shook her head. ‘We should call the police. Let them handle the search.’
‘We can’t say for sure that he’s missing.’ Nate was already stuffing wet weather gear into his pack. ‘He could have gone out last night. Stayed in town.’
‘If he did, he took his dogs with him.’
Nate swore again. ‘The weather’s closing in pretty fast. Even if they send Mountain Rescue, it’ll be an hour before they can get here.’
They looked at each other in silence, neither of them willing to say that if Mitch was injured, if he’d already spent a night in the open, he might not have that long.