Wild About the Man. Joss Wood

until she’d heard Nick leaving in that wretched vehicle the night before last and then she’d dissolved. She’d sobbed for hours and hours and when she’d heard him returning she’d buried her head under her pillow and cried some more.

      Utterly drained, she knew that the worst of the emotional storm had passed and, as it passed, a modicum of sanity returned.

      It would be so much less embarrassing if she could say that she was crying over the loss of a grand passion, a soulmate, her raison d’être. But she couldn’t because she’d meant what she said on the plane about Cai—she didn’t care if he married what’s-her-face or an alien. Every last emotion she’d felt for him was dead, six feet under, and she just wanted to get past him and onto the rest of her life.

      So that couldn’t explain why she’d spent the last two days raising the world’s water levels.

      Clem buried the heels of her hands into her eye sockets and whimpered. The truth she could no longer avoid was that she was crying over lost time, stupid decisions, wasted years, humiliation, embarrassment and, hardest of all to admit, brazen, in your face and utterly fearless … fear.

      Terror.

      For the second time in her life the foundations of her world had been washed away. When her mother died she’d been rocked to her core. Nothing in the world made sense until Cai came along with his ‘live for today’ philosophy. He’d encouraged her to pursue instant gratification and the pursuit of pleasure had ruled their lives.

      At the time it had made sense to her.

      Fast forward a decade and what had she to show for those decisions? A spectacularly public failed mock-marriage, a closet full of clothes and an identity that was wrapped up in being Roz Hedley-Copeland’s daughter and Cai Campbell’s lover.

      If only she’d had the brains, the confidence to kick him to touch after she’d found out about his first affair but he’d talked her out of it. Guilted her out of it as well.

       No, don’t study … you’re too pretty to put your nose into a book.

       A job? Why would anyone want to hire a washed up ex-model who has never worked a day in her life?

       Working for charity? You?

       Face it, darling, you’re not much good for anything more difficult than looking gorgeous.

      Puke.

      So what could she do, who was she going to be? She needed to find a new normal, a new reality, a new everything and she was scared, soul-deep terrified.

      Clem rolled over in bed and placed her forearm over her eyes. She couldn’t hide out in a stranger’s house in South Africa for ever but the thought of leaving had the breath catching in her throat, her heart pounding. She couldn’t leave until the press furore died down, and until she had some sort of plan … She couldn’t face her father, the press, the world without one.

      Or that grey-eyed, six foot something of bol-shie attitude on the other side of her door.

      The thing was, she’d never had to do this on her own before and she didn’t know where to start.

      Jabu had met Nick after the evening game drive and accepted Nick’s offer of a beer back at his house. Nick dumped his radio on the long wooden dining table while Jabu yanked two beers out of his fridge and cracked the tops. The door to his guest’s bedroom was still firmly shut and Nick frowned at the half-eaten tub of yoghurt and the barely touched apple on a plate next to the sink.

      He was going to have to do something about the redhead soon but he had no idea what.

      Jabu handed him a beer and walked from the kitchen to the lounge, sliding open the doors that led onto the deck. His house was a rectangle, with the well designed kitchen, study and a home gym at the back of the house. The kitchen, dining room and lounge were all open-plan, with a long wooden table covered in books, files and rolled up maps separating the leather couches of the lounge from the kitchen counters. A flat-screen TV with an X-box attached dominated the wall and floor-to-ceiling wood and glass sliding doors led out onto the wooden deck.

      It was comfortable and he liked it—a far cry from the two room shack he and Terra had shared in the early days.

      Nick followed Jabu out to the deck and imitated his friend’s stance, forearms on the railing, beer bottle dangling from two fingers as they scanned the vegetation below. A herd of zebra were grazing to the right, impala were in the thick bush a little way away.

      ‘We need to move those rhinos we bought from up north,’ Jabu commented.

      ‘The translocation costs a freaking bomb. The Foundation doesn’t have the cash right now to fund it. The charity ball is in a month’s time, though … I’m hoping for some big donations to come in then. Can we wait that long?’

      ‘We can but I don’t know about the rhinos.’ Jabu sipped his beer and sent Nick a sly look. ‘How’s your guest?’

      Nick shrugged. ‘Dunno. Haven’t seen her. She stays in her room.’

      Jabu’s eyebrows lifted. ‘For two days?’

      ‘Hey, it suits me. She has an attitude that can strip paint off walls.’ Nick blew out his breath. ‘I don’t know what to do about her. She was a royal pain when she stepped off the plane but I can cope with that. But she’s shut herself in her room and doesn’t come out when I’m here. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. I hear her pacing.’ Nick took a pull of his beer. ‘I keep thinking that I should make her work, which is just crazy.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I doubt she’s worked a day in her life. But I keep remembering what your mother said to me when Terra … you know. That work is the best medicine.’

      ‘My mama is a wise woman. Crazy mad but wise. I think you’re right. Get her out of that room and interacting with people.’ Jabu pushed off the railing. ‘I must go … I need to spend some time with the kids before bed.’ He took Nick’s empty bottle and shook his head when Nick started to accompany him out. ‘Stay here. Decide what you want to do about Clem. Later.’

      ‘Night, Jabs.’

      Nick returned back to his previous stance and looked down the steep cliff at a chattering dove on a rock halfway down the cliff. The zebras had moved off and a jackal scurried across the bank of the waterhole. The sun dropped behind the thorn trees and the subdued gold between the branches was the same shade as Clem’s hair.

      He was tired of living with a ghoul. Like it or not, Clem was going to work.

      It felt as if Clem had just drifted off to sleep when Nick yanked back the heavy curtains and bright morning sunlight streamed over her bed and into her eyes. She yelped and covered her eyes as he banged a cup of coffee on the night stand next to her.

      ‘Coffee,’ Nick told her. ‘Get up, Princess.’

      Clem groaned and when her eyes focused on the bedside clock she growled, ‘It’s five o’clock in the morning.’

      ‘Yeah, and you’re going to be late. Get moving, Red.’ Nick grabbed her mosquito net, spun it and expertly tied it into a knot. He yanked back her sheet and stared down at her long body, barely covered by a tight cotton camisole and low-slung cotton sleeping shorts. The shirt had ridden up to reveal four inches of her flat stomach, complete with a diamond stud in her belly button. Nick immediately wanted to dip his tongue there, feel the contrast between the cool stone and her warm skin.

      Clem half sat and glared up at him, pushing her riotous hair back with her hand. ‘What is wrong with you?’

      Nick backed away from the bed and placed his fists on khaki-covered hips. ‘Your free ride at Two-B—what we call The Baobab and Buffalo Lodge—is over. You can wallow while you work.’

      ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Clem sat up properly and immediately reached for the cup of coffee.