Forbidden Nights With The Boss. Anna J. Stewart

      Cam finished and turned off the machine then massaged the shoulder, not talking now, knowing silence was awkward for some people and they would rush to fill it with talk.

      Not Richard Trent! He remained stoically still and silent while Cam massaged his shoulder, then sat up, thanked Cam, pulled on his shirt and was preparing to depart when he hesitated.

      Was Richard about to open up to him?

      Remember whatever he says you have to be non-judgemental. The message rang loud and clear in Cam’s head.

      ‘I shouldn’t have got upset about you taking the boys surfing—you were probably only doing what you thought was a good turn.’

      Cam nodded. He wanted so desperately to help this man, and the wanting reminded him of why he’d gone further than straight medicine and studied psychology as well.

      ‘It was nothing. I’m sorry it upset you,’ he said, testing every word before he said it, afraid he could lose whatever slim connection he might have made with Richard. ‘I surf every morning, and love it so much I want everyone to know the joy. I suppose it’s like you with cricket. Jo was telling me you played schoolboy cricket for the state.’

      ‘Long time ago,’ Richard said. ‘BM I call it.’

      ‘BM?’

      ‘Before marriage! Jackie was pregnant, we had to get married, I’m not telling you anything the whole town doesn’t know.’

      But you’re telling me you’re bitter about it, very bitter, yet you’ve obviously been married a long time now and the abuse is only recent—what’s changed? Cam’s mind was racing. He knew many of the cricketers who played for their state or country were married, many with children, so why would it have stopped Richard’s career?

      Again speaking carefully, Cam asked, ‘Would you have liked to play on? Go further?’

      ‘Wouldn’t anyone?’ Richard muttered, and this time he did leave, but he left behind a man who’d received a precious gift—a reminder for Cam that this was what he enjoyed—helping people and knowing that in his own small way he could help people.

      Not that he’d done much for Richard yet, but Cam knew he was no longer rudderless—that his career was back on track, his enthusiasm for practising medicine and psychology alive and well again.

      Jo must have passed Richard in the hall, for she arrived in Cam’s doorway seconds later.

      ‘Any luck?’ she asked.

      Cam grinned at her.

      ‘His shoulder might be less painful,’ he replied, ‘and I’ve a feeling of cautious optimism, though that could well be misplaced.’

      He grinned at her, wanting to share the new optimism he was feeling, but she couldn’t have got the vibe because she frowned, and he had a sudden urge to kiss that little frown line away.

      Maybe kiss her lips as well—hold her—but not in a comforting way.

      Fortunately—well, probably fortunately—she disappeared from his doorway while he was pondering kisses and hugs, leaving him staring at the space where she had been.

      Puzzled and a little uneasy about this sudden urge to kiss his boss in a very inappropriate setting, he used getting a beach permit as an excuse to avoid lunch in the communal room. But was she also avoiding him that she was out at lunchtime too, and on Thursday? She actually phoned him in his consulting room on Friday to remind him of the meeting. ‘I’ll drive you, save taking two cars,’ she suggested.

      ‘No, I’ll take the van. If we finish in time I might put my new permit to good use and go down the long beach for a surf.’

      The surf had flattened out and she probably knew that, but she didn’t mention it, simply reminding him the meeting was at four at the community centre.

      ‘It’s the modern-looking building behind the hospital. There’s a meeting room on the left as you walk in,’ she explained to him. ‘See you there.’

      It was fairly stupid as he couldn’t avoid her for ever, and he did see her at work, passing in the hall, meeting to discuss a patient at the front desk, but in work mode he could forget how she’d looked on a surfboard, body curved, head held high, eyes aglow, at one with the elemental force of the ocean—in control of the curling green wave.

      Almost forget.

      He was early for the meeting—army training too strong for him to ever arrive anywhere late. But arriving early had its own reward, for he could see these virtual strangers enter the room, and watch the interaction between them.

      Mike was an organiser, arriving with a small briefcase that he opened to reveal a laptop and a sheaf of papers, copies of an agenda, Cam discovered when Mike handed him one.

      Lauren, now, was different. One look at her face when Tom walked in was enough to tell Cam she was attracted to his old acquaintance, which made the fact that Tom studiously avoided looking at Lauren even more interesting. Lauren was a beautiful woman, and Tom was a man who collected beautiful women. Had he tried and been rebuffed?

      The attraction between them seemed apparent to Cam, a newcomer, looking in from the outside, but one was resisting and one was ignoring—interesting!

      ‘Did you come to try the chairs or are you going to get involved?’

      Jo’s teasing remark brought him out of his analysis of the vibes in the room and he smiled at the people he was finding so intriguing.

      ‘Thinking of something,’ he said, then knew he’d made a mistake. Jo wasn’t one to let an opening like that slip away.

      ‘So tell,’ she demanded, and Cam had to sort some vague thoughts he’d had while out on his board this morning into sensible order. But not before he’d snapped a ‘Yes, boss’ and a crisp salute at her, and watched the delicious colour rise in her cheeks.

      Business! his head reminded him.

      ‘I think long term we—or you lot—need to get the men’s programme up and running, and we can start planning it and working on how best to get men to attend. As far as attendance goes, we can contact people who already run these programmes to see if they’ve any ideas. But … ‘

      He paused, aware he had their attention.

      ‘While outlining what we’re doing to get that up and running might impress the people who hold the purse-strings, maybe another project, one we could begin right now, would show we’re serious about running an integrated programme against domestic violence in the Cove. For a start, get the local council involved. I’ve noticed as I’ve travelled north that many towns have big signs on the highway where the town begins, saying domestic violence isn’t tolerated in this town, and a toll-free number to call for help.’

      ‘That’s a great idea,’ Lauren told him. ‘I’ll get on to the council.’

      ‘Actually, I can do that. I’ll talk to the mayor about it,’ Cam offered.

      Jo was smiling at him—like a teacher pleased with her pupil?—but she wasn’t letting him stop there.

      ‘And?’ she prompted.

      ‘We should begin awareness programmes in the high schools—right now. This time of year, the final-year students have gone, but the lower years are still there and teachers are at their wits’ end, trying to keep their pupils occupied. I know this because army recruitment officers were always welcomed at the end of term time. We could offer to do a school programme focussing on violence.’

      Jo caught on first.

      ‘You’re right. We need to get kids, especially adolescents, not only aware of DV but thinking seriously about how they handle anger. What do they see of violence? How do they think about it? How does it make them feel? We could do some role playing of appropriate and inappropriate behaviour, get the kids involved, the