The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon

two. How do you know Mr McLeish?’

      Romy tilted her head. ‘What makes you think I do?’

      Simone laughed. ‘He emerges from his forest for the first time in a year on the day you happen to be interviewing for a job. Then he hires you, having made not one single business decision since Justin arrived. Then he helps you move house…’

      How did people know this stuff? Were the forest possums running a blog?

      ‘…and, finally, the pair of you have enough chemistry to start a bushfire. That doesn’t evolve overnight.’

      Romy shook her head. ‘You saw us together for about twenty seconds after the interview, Simone.’

      ‘I could feel the tension in the room. The vibe between the two of you was the closest to action I’ve had in a while, let me tell you.’

      ‘The only tension you felt was irritation. He was ticked off because I embarrassed him about his store security. And he hired me for the same reason. Besides, if he hasn’t emerged for that long, where am I supposed to have met him?’

      ‘Oh, he comes out, just not amongst people here. Supposedly he heads up to the city a couple of times a year for…You know…’

      She shook her head, bemused. ‘For?’

      Simone’s mouth opened and then closed again and a blush stained her pretty features.

      Romy stiffened immediately. ‘Let me see if I have this right. People here think I know Clint McLeish from the city where he sometimes goes to pick up.’

      Simone flushed to her roots. ‘Um…’

      ‘And him hiring me unexpectedly is some kind of evidence the two of us are an item? Oh, that’s right, let’s not forget the explosive chemistry zinging around when we’re together. Can’t keep our hands off each other. I suppose he’s also the father of my child, yes?’

      She didn’t know skin could turn so crimson. Romy slammed her mug on the sink in disbelief. ‘Oh, you are kidding me! For the record, Simone, my son’s father is not Clint McLeish. He and I had never met. We are not secret lovers. He’s not helping me do my work. And there is no chemistry—he doesn’t even like me particularly. Can I be any clearer?’

      Her pitch had risen considerably and her chest heaved with anger. Simone backed away a step or two during her outburst but then stood her ground, silently assessing. Romy stared at her through steady, furious eyes.

      ‘I believe you. I’m sorry if I jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

      Romy could only nod.

      ‘I wouldn’t want anyone saying something about you that’s not true.’ Serious blue eyes stared steadily at Romy. The irony was exquisite.

      Simone chewed her lip. ‘But…he is working on security at night—it’s the only thing he’s touching. I’m not mistaken about that.’

      Romy’s heart squeezed with familiar pain. He was doing her work for her. She’d clearly made a very bad first impression if he thought her so incapable. ‘Then I’ll take it up with him,’ she said tightly.

      Simone nodded and turned for the door. At the last moment, she put her head back in the room. ‘And, Romy, the chemistry? I’m not mistaken about that either.’ She shrugged gently before turning out the door. ‘Sorry.’

      Romy did a fantastic job of internalising her irritation that Clint was helping her out behind the scenes, taking her frustration out on the damaged fence line instead. So when she glanced down and saw his distinctive, battered ute pull up to one side of the deep, blue-green dam she was working near, she knew fate wanted her to say something.

      And not just one thing.

      Dumping the wire strainers and her heavy gloves onto the hard earth and tugging her broad-brim hat further down her head she marched down the slope in the direction of the dam. Flies buzzed around the perspiration on her face and throat and she shooed them away with angry flicks of her wrist, every one matching words she never, ever said in front of her son. But she said them now, and not quite under her breath.

      How dared he patronise her by helping her out secretly? She was perfectly capable of doing the job she was hired for. This wasn’t the first time she’d started in a new field and she had every confidence in her ability to hit the ground running. But he didn’t obviously. To sneak in at night and prepare things for her, or order new equipment, or fix things before she had a chance to. It was galling!

      Her furious feet moved her quickly but when she got down to the edge of the dam, Clint was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the horizon, glanced into the ute, turned and looked back the way she had come.

      Silence.

      ‘McLeish!’ Her call was more of a cry to battle. It echoed across the empty clearing before being swallowed up in the thick trees leading away from it.

      Still nothing. Damn him!

      A splash behind her had her spinning around on the spot.

      ‘You rang?’ Clint bobbed in the dam like a buoy, dunking under briefly, then emerging, glistening, and pushing his hair from his face. Wet, his features were all perfect angles and sharp, sparkling edges. Strong arms brought him closer to the shallows. ‘What can I do for you, Ms Carvell?’

      Romy fought to ignore the slow reveal as his feet found the dam floor. ‘You can stop holding my hand,’ she called out, her heart thumping.

      He stopped drifting towards her and stood straighter in the water. ‘Explain that to me.’ His fingers came up to shield his gaze from the glare and sunlight bounced off the rivulets streaming down the hard planes of his chest.

      She ignored that, too.

      She swallowed to put some moisture back in her mouth. ‘You’re doing my job for me.’ She didn’t have to yell now he was only metres away from where she stood on the dam’s edge. He looked so infuriatingly confident standing there like some kind of aquatic god. While she was all sweaty and revolting.

      Again.

      That fired her up even more. ‘I’m perfectly capable of doing the job you’re paying me to do. I don’t need your help. I don’t want it.’

      ‘Who says I’m helping you?’ His legs carried him through the shallows and the dam seemed to drop away from him as he approached.

      Her breath hitched as first broad pecs and then a ridged stomach emerged from the water, then it released on a whoosh when his feet found the ascent to shore and pushed a pair of dark board shorts, slung low on angular obliques, into view.

      Not that she was looking.

      ‘You’re coming in at night and doing things before I can get to them.’ Deny it, she wanted to shout.

      He dragged his feet onto the sand and stopped in front of her, dropping his arm from his eyes, suspicion live in the shadowed gaze. ‘How do you know what I’m doing at night?’

      Great. Another person who thought she was capable of a bit of internal espionage. But she was loath to get Simone in trouble, not after the hard time she’d already given her.

      She hedged. ‘Is it true or not?’

      Dark lashes clumped by water droplets blinked down over vibrant green eyes. No wonder the townspeople had such a romantic view of him; between the face and the intrigue, he was mysterious and handsome enough to be flashing on feminine radars across the south-west.

      Her own was going ballistic right now.

      ‘It’s true I’m working at night,’ he said.

      ‘And…?’

      ‘And it’s true I’m looking at some aspects of our security—’ Romy turned to stalk off. A strong, wet hand wrapped around her elbow and drew her back. ‘But relax. I’m not doing you any