‘I didn’t ask for an engagement party. Once your mum got a whiff of the idea she ran with it.’
‘Okay. Let’s clear the air, then we can focus on what’s important.’ He breathed out deeply, put his palms flat on the desk. ‘My mum was trying to help. Then you ditched. It was a long time ago and I’m over it. No second chances, like you always said. Never look back. Great philosophy. You missed the boat, princess. Don’t blame me if you didn’t know a good thing when you saw it.’
‘I knew it wasn’t for me.’
But it had been a very good thing. Until she’d had to make impossible choices. Atanga Bay or Auckland. Break the promises she’d made to her mother or to Connor? ‘And I made the right decision. You’re doing well. And I’m happy here.’
‘But obviously you’re still bothered about it. Embarrassed perhaps? Regretful? Don’t they say that the first form of defence is attack?’
The smell of his aftershave washed around her. The same as he’d worn back then. Leather and spice and earthy man. Throwing her back to their long, lazy afternoons in bed. When they’d believed their dreams were possible. Before she’d been bamboozled into a life she hadn’t wanted.
Her hackles stood to attention again. At the same time her stomach somersaulted at the memory of kissing his lips and the way he had tasted. Ozone and chardonnay, cinnamon whirls and coffee. Connor. And how once she’d started to kiss him she’d never wanted to stop. She shook her head in despair. Memories were not helpful.
‘Our relationship ran its course. I’m not sore or embarrassed, and I’m not trying to attack you. I’m sorry if it came over that way.’
‘Want a little advice? Seems you need me more than I need you right now. You have an assessment hanging over your head and an emergency. And I could walk out that door and never look back. But I don’t think you need that, right? So maybe if you want my help, you could try being civil.’
She turned away and swallowed hard. He was right. In a cruel twist of fate, he was her only hope. Civil it had to be.
Mercifully the door swung open before she could answer, and four men limped in. Their faces were streaked with black and their clothes singed. Hard hats and heavy work boots were left at the door.
‘Okay, gentlemen. Take a breath.’ Mim sat them down in Reception, gave them all a fleeting assessment. Triaging four injured construction workers was way more in her comfort zone than needling an old flame.
‘What’s the story, Tony?’ She nodded at the foreman, a local and friend, knowing he’d have the details covered.
‘A gas cylinder blew, hit a couple of the lads square in the face—they’ve been airlifted to Auckland General. There’s a fire burning out of control on the site.’ He coughed long and hard, then pointed to his pals. ‘This motley crew are mainly smoke inhalation, a few cuts and bruises, and I reckon Boy here’s got a broken finger from falling over. Daft coot. Never seen anyone away run so fast. Or fall so hard.’
Connor stepped into the fray. ‘Okay. Tony? You come with me, sounds like you could do with some oxygen to help clear those lungs. Boy, you go with Mim. Skye, take the other two through to Treatment Room Two.’
‘And you are?’ Tony stood and faced Connor, his face grim beneath the soot.
Just great. Mim’s heart plummeted. For the last few months Tony had been playing suitor, quietly. Little gestures, the odd interested phrase. Dinner for two at the pub. She’d let him down gently as soon as she’d realised his intentions were more than just friendly.
It wasn’t just that she didn’t fancy him, but she’d sworn off men. Men wanted her to need them. To rely on them. She couldn’t. She hated the thought of losing control over anything—particularly her emotions.
She stepped in, tried to infuse her voice with a quiet plea for calm. Tony was hot-headed at the best of times and obviously stressed. ‘Tony, this is Connor Wiseman. He’s that assessor I told you about. He’s going to be here for a while, on and off. He’s also a doctor and is keen to help out.’
‘Okay. Connor. A word of warning, mate.’ Tony stuck his hand out. ‘Our Mim doesn’t take too kindly to being told what to do.’
‘Believe me, I know. I’ve still got the scars.’ Our Mim. Connor squared his shoulders and gripped the man’s hand. Clearly Tony and Mim were more than well acquainted. The man had possession written all over his sooty face. And the way Mim looked at Tony, in such a conciliatory way, those full lips curling into a gentle smile for another man, sent jolts of jealousy and anger spasming through him. She’d thrown him over for this? This nowheresville town and this hulk of a man?
Well, good luck to them. Traces of fading arousal from their early spat cemented into a clarity of focus. He wasn’t here to woo her back. Not a chance. He’d lost her once. What kind of idiot would invite that kind of grief again?
Letting him go, Connor nodded. But for the record … ‘Mim and I go way back.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ Tony put a hand on Mim’s shoulder. His voice threw down a gauntlet. ‘Primary school? High school? Pretty much all her life.’
Mim tried to stand casually between them. ‘Right, then. Let’s not waste time trawling through my life, shall we?’
She almost laughed. The scenario made her seem like some kind of diva. Little Mim, who hadn’t had so much as a kiss for three years, trying to keep two men from taunting each other. Surreal. ‘Second thoughts, Tony, you come with me. Boy, go with Connor.’
She bundled Tony into Treatment Room One and applied an oxygen mask, measured his sats and vitals. She decided not to mention his possessiveness. That would only draw attention to something she wanted to ignore. ‘Take a few deep breaths. You hurt anywhere else?’
‘Nah. All good, Mim. Scary, though. Those guys were hurt badly. Nasty business.’
‘Anyone I know?’ A likely prospect, as she knew every single inhabitant of Atanga Bay.
‘Macca Wilson and Toby Josiah.’
‘Oh, no.’ Her stomach knotted. Two of their finest. ‘I’ll phone the hospital later and see how they’re doing. Shelly’s going to need a hand with those little kiddies while Macca’s in hospital. And Toby’s mum’ll be worried sick. Any others injured?’
‘No one else got the blast. Just us, and we were a little way back. But the wind whipped up a blaze in no time. Civil Defence is up there, assessing with the fire department. No real danger, but they’re evacuating the campsite as a precaution.’
‘I’ll grab the key to the community hall and go open up. That’s the designated assembly point. Besides, there’s nowhere else to put a campsite full of people.’ Measuring Tony’s sats again, Mim smiled. ‘No major problems here. But I’ll leave you with the oxygen on for a couple of minutes while I go start the phone tree. We’re going to need bedding, food and water for the evacuees.’
After opening up the hall next door, starting the cascade of calls firing the locals into action and discharging Tony, Mim found Connor suturing a deep gash on one of the construction worker’s legs. Connor looked up as she entered, those dark eyes boring into her. Energy emanated from him, as electric as ever. Plug him in and her power-bill woes would be over.
Seeing him there, in her space, so incongruously smart and chic in her tired treatment room, and so very Connor, threw her off centre again. She gripped the doorhandle as she inhaled, deeply, to steady herself. Leather and spice and earthly man again. Her body hummed in automatic response. Inhaling was a big mistake.
He smiled, adding an urgent charge to the humming. She squeezed the handle harder and calmed her body’s reaction to him.
For goodness’ sake, she’d