on the wards required to finalise my nurse’s practising certificate.’ She’d worked extremely hard to get all her qualifications. Not being satisfied with a pass, she’d aimed for the highest grades possible. That had been the first good turning point in her life. Jack could raise his eyebrows all he liked but he wouldn’t dent her pride in her accomplishments. ‘I trained on the ambulances in San Francisco. Then during the last four months there I took a rotation on the rescue helicopters, which stood me in good stead for this job.’ She’d found her niche. Nothing, nobody would make her give it up. Not a bung knee. Definitely not Jack.
‘San Francisco, eh?’ His tone was acid and he stared straight ahead as they walked towards the hangar and the staffrooms.
Beside him she grinned, refusing to be intimidated by his attitude. He might think he still knew her but, boy, oh, boy, he didn’t have a clue. She’d returned to Wellington, this time permanently. This was the first city in a long line of cities that she’d come back to. Might as well get some of the details out of the way, let him have his ‘I told you so’ moment. ‘I started in Seattle, then went to Vancouver. I really loved Canada but couldn’t get a job without a work permit. Back in the States I headed down to Kansas, LA, San Diego and finally San Francisco.’ She wasn’t going to enlighten him about her reasons for all that tripping around. Not yet anyway. Not unless they got past being mates. Which, right now, looked doubtful. Unfortunately.
‘When did you find time to fit in your training?’ Strong acid.
‘I lived in San Fran for two years, ample time to qualify. My nursing training put me ahead on the course when I started on the ambulance.’ And she’d focused entirely on her job, no sexy distractions anywhere in sight.
‘Two years in one spot?’ The acid sweetened up a little. ‘Did you ever come back here for a visit?’
‘No. Too busy.’ And, because they’d agreed their break-up was final, there’d been nothing, no one, to come back for.
‘Where are you living now?’
‘I bought a villa on Mount Victoria.’ Glancing sideways, she saw his eyebrows lift, his lips tighten, and she braced herself.
His words dripped sarcasm. ‘Don’t tell me you’re settling down? Not you. Come on, I bet you’ve still got that backpack in the corner of your wardrobe, waiting for the day you’ve had enough of Wellington.’
‘Long gone, fallen apart from overuse.’ Not a great testament to her reliability. But, ‘I’m renovating the house. It’s so out of date and colder than an iceberg now that winter’s here. The electricity and plumbing need completely redoing, not to mention the antiquated kitchen and a bathroom requiring a total refit.’ All of which were already guzzling up cash like a thirsty dog.
‘You haven’t exactly answered my question. How long do you think you’ll be around this time?’ His mouth was still tight, but his eyebrows were back in place. ‘You never showed any interest in owning a house. Too much of a tie, you reckoned, if I recall correctly.’
Which, of course, he did. But that had been aeons ago. And deep down she had wanted a home but fear of not being able to make a success of it had driven her to deny the need. What had she ever known about setting up a permanent home? Continuing to ignore his underlying disbelief, she said, ‘The villa’s eighty-nine years old, and showing its age. But I love it. There’s so much potential.’
‘Oh, right. You’ll be here until you’ve done the house up. A quick lick of paint? Some new carpet?’ He held the door to the staff kitchen open for her. ‘Can’t quite picture you as a house renovator.’
‘Give me a break. I’ve never had the opportunity before.’ And they both knew that had been her fault.
Behind her Dave piped up. ‘Ruby’s a dab hand at pulling down walls. You should see her swinging a hammer.’
‘That’s the best bit,’ she agreed, grateful for Dave’s support.
Jack peered down at her. ‘You do know what you’re doing, Ruby? Has a builder looked over your plans? Or are you leaping in feet first and knocking out parts of the house any old how? You could bring the roof down on your head if you take out a load-bearing wall.’
‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked sweetly, fighting the urge to hit him. Of course she knew what she was doing. ‘I have expert help.’ Chris had been a builder until he’d decided there had to be more excitement to life and learned to fly helicopters. He’d been more than happy to take a look at the house and tell her what she could and couldn’t do to it. He’d also put her in touch with a reliable draughtsman who fully understood her need to keep the house in period while modernising the essentials.
‘Coffee, thanks.’ Jack dropped onto a chair at the table. Questions still clouded his eyes.
‘Dave, Chris?’ Outside, the rotors of the second rescue helicopter began slowing down. Ruby got out more mugs for the other crew. ‘Where’s Slats?’
‘Right here.’ A short, wiry man sauntered in and handed Dave some paperwork.
Chris sat down and introduced Jack to his offsider before returning to the previous conversation. ‘Ruby’s got everything under control with the house, Jack. We made sure of that the moment we learned what she was up to. She’s one very organised lady. And damned determined when she sets her mind to something.’
‘Here you go.’ Ruby slid the filled mugs across the table towards the men.
Jack’s eyebrows were on the move again. ‘Ruby? Organised?’ His eyes widened and he turned to her. ‘Have you had a total mind make-over since I saw you last?’ He certainly didn’t have any hang-ups about everyone knowing they used to know each other.
‘Sort of.’ She shrugged off his criticism. ‘I definitely don’t rush things like a sprinter out of the starter’s block any more.’
Jack told Chris, ‘Three years ago, if she’d wanted a wall taken out, she’d have taken it out, regardless of load bearing or any other constraints.’
Chris laughed. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to slow Ruby down once she gets going with that mallet, but she’s very conscious of making the best out of this house. It’s going to be well worth all her efforts.’
Jack pressed his lips together. Holding back a retort? Then he headed to the sink, poured the coffee away and began making another one. Without milk.
‘Oh, sorry.’ She’d made it the way he used to drink it. Silly girl. She should’ve asked, not presumed, she knew.
‘Not a problem.’
Leaning back against the small bench, Ruby folded her arms over her abdomen, holding her mug in one hand. Her pie was heating in the microwave. She put distance between her and Jack, all too aware of the sparks that would fly if they touched. Trying not to watch as he stirred the bottom out of his coffee mug was hard after all those years of wondering about him; yearning for his touch, his kisses, even his understanding. She remembered how those long fingers now holding the teaspoon used to trip lightly over her feverish skin, sensitising her from head to toe.
He glanced over. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ Thoughtlessly she laid a hand on his upper arm then snatched it back as his eyebrows rose. Dropping onto a chair, she surreptitiously continued to study
