Forbidden Nights With The Boss. Anna J. Stewart

very different in the way of twinges rippled down her spine.

      It was followed very quickly by a rush of panic.

      Attraction was the last thing she needed in her life right now.

      Wasn’t it?

      She had no idea. Perhaps because she hadn’t felt it for so long she hadn’t given it much thought. She was reasonably sure she hadn’t missed having a man in her life.

      Well, not enough to worry about it.

      ‘So she has her papers?’ he prompted, and Jo blinked and tried really hard to concentrate on the conversation—tried really hard to ignore twinges and ripples and whatever they might mean.

      Jackie’s papers—that’s what they’d been talking about.

      ‘All of them, I hope. If she has no money she can apply for a crisis payment. Actually, Lauren will ask her how she might go about getting money—letting her take control right from the start.’

      How much to explain?

      ‘One of the reasons women find it hard to leave their abusers is that they’ve become dependent on them, so as well as providing a safe place to live, the refuge staff take whatever steps they can to give the women confidence in managing their own affairs. Staff members provide forms and information and can help but the women have to first work out what they want, think about how it might be achieved and then at least begin to get it organised for themselves.’

      ‘With support,’ Cam said.

      ‘With whatever level of support they need, and that varies tremendously,’ Jo agreed. ‘It’s all about helping them take control of their lives and mostly they’ve lost so much control it’s very, very difficult for them.’

      ‘Which would make it easier to go back to someone who did all that stuff for them even though he batters them?’

      ‘Exactly!’

      She knew she should have let it go at that, but the familiar frustration was building inside her.

      ‘It is so exasperating,’ she muttered. ‘We—well, not me but the support staff at the refuge—can get them so far along the road to independence then suddenly it all becomes too hard and back they go, assuring us all—and themselves—that he, whoever he is, is really, really sorry and he has promised faithfully never to do it again, etcetera, etcetera.’

      Her anger was easy to read, sparking in her eyes, colouring her cheeks—the angry elf again but a very attractive angry elf—differently attractive …

      Cam knew he should be thinking about the conversation, but he understood only too well what she was saying. He’d scoured the internet for information on battered women the previous evening and everything he’d heard from Jo fitted into what he’d read.

      ‘There are successes, too, of course,’ she was saying, pressing her hands to her cheeks as if she knew they’d grown pink. ‘And Jackie could be one. I suspect she’s made the move now because of the boys. Jared is going on ten, which is an age where he could intervene between his parents and get hurt, or he could begin to ape his father’s behaviour and start verbally, or even physically, abusing Aaron.’

      ‘I kind of gathered the second scenario might be happening—and that was just from a fifteen-minute car ride.’

      Fine dark eyebrows rose above the green witch eyes.

      ‘Ah!’ she said. ‘I did wonder. The good thing is, Lauren will get them sorted. There is absolutely no violence allowed in the refuge—no smacking of kids, no kids hitting or punching each other, no verbal abuse or threatening behaviour full stop.’

      Cam kind of heard the reply, but his mind had drifted—well, the new door he’d shut was open again and he was wondering what those eyes would look like fired with an emotion other than anger.

      Desire perhaps …

      He tried to shut the door—this was not the time to be fantasising about his boss. Fantasising about any woman, really. He was heading north along the coast, surfing to clear his head, working because that helped as well, trying to come to terms with the fact that the emotional baggage he’d picked up in his army life—the damage from makeshift bombs, the deaths of innocent bystanders, the broken, lost and orphaned children—would probably stay with him for ever, he just had to learn how to deal with it.

      As Jackie had to learn to deal with the myriad annoyances of officialdom—

      ‘The fish for you?’

      The surfing waiter had returned, sliding a bowl of steaming calamari in front of Jo, then placing Cam’s plate on the table in front of him.

      ‘Enjoy!’ the young man said, and he bounced away. Cam could feel the excitement the young surfer was trying to keep under control in his body as he looked forward to a future following his dream.

      ‘Was this always your dream?’

      Given the way he’d been thinking, it had been a natural question to ask, but from the way Jo was frowning at him, it must have come out wrong.

      ‘Eating calamari in the surf club?’ she queried. ‘Well, I do enjoy it but it was hardly a lifelong ambition.’

      He had to laugh.

      ‘Being a doctor, coming back to work in your home town, working with your father? Was it always your ambition in the way going on the pro tour has been our waiter’s ambition? Was it that ambition that kept you off the pro tour?’

      She could lie and say yes, kill the conversation once and for all, but his laugh had been so natural, so heartfelt and open and full of fun, she found it difficult to lie to him.

      ‘Not always.’ She was going to make do with that when she realised he wasn’t going to be satisfied and would ask more questions. ‘Any more than surfing your way along the coast was probably yours. Things happen, people change, dreams are reshaped to fit.’

      She put down her fork and looked directly at him, although she knew how dangerous that was. The intensity in his eyes, the quirky lips, a faint scar she’d discovered in his left eyebrow—things that combined to start ripples and flickers and twitches and such churning in her stomach she doubted she’d be able to finish her calamari.

      ‘I don’t think this is a bad thing. I’m happy with my reshaped life,’ she told him, ignoring all the turmoil going on inside her. ‘Very happy!’

      That should stop him asking any more personal questions, she told herself as she picked up her fork and stirred the remaining strips of pale, translucent seafood.

      Cam clamped his teeth together so the questions he wanted to ask wouldn’t escape. What had her dream been? What had happened for her to change direction—to reshape her life? Her sister’s death? More than that?

      It was none of his business.

      He was moving on.

      Okay, so now he’d suggested the men’s programme, he could set it up, but someone else could run it.

      He looked out at the ocean, black and mysterious, always moving, changing, reshaping itself and the land it slid onto or crashed against, and all at once he knew he didn’t want to move on—didn’t want to leave this place—and not entirely because of the good surf.

      Or the fact that getting a programme set up and running would be a terrific challenge.

      She’d argued, as he guessed she would, over the bill, but he’d insisted on paying, so she’d walked out of the restaurant in front of him, slowing on the steps, allowing him to catch up as she reached the ground.

      ‘Is there a good track up onto the headland?’ he asked, thinking a walk would be a pleasant way to end the day.

      Actually, thinking he’d like to spend more time in this woman’s company, and what better than a walk in the moonlight?

      ‘Yes,’