I want to add the skills to my CV.’
‘To what end?’
‘MSF. Mèdecins San Frontiéres.’
‘I know what it is.’ Tama shook the incredulous expression from his face. ‘I’ve thought about it myself.’ He slid his arms through his pack straps. ‘You’re talking global hotspots. Third-world conditions. War zones.’
‘Think I’m not up to it?’
Man, there was a bit of fire in there! Tama liked that. Sparks kept things hot.
‘Didn’t say that. Just curious as to why you’d want to.’
‘Maybe I’m an adrenaline junkie.’
‘Are you?’ Thrill seekers who might take unnecessary risks and endanger other team members were not welcome on Tama’s watch.
Mikki shook her head dismissively. ‘I know the value of staying alive, if that’s what you’re getting at. I was in a major car crash when I was sixteen. Got a good look at what it would be like not to survive and I don’t plan on repeating the experience.’
Tama nodded acknowledgement. He was tempted to ask more but that would be hardly professional, would it? He had no excuse to stray onto personal ground.
Yet.
‘Having said that,’ Mikki continued, ‘I’m not exactly a shrinking violet either, and when I heard that MSF were short of doctors, I put my hand up.’
Tama’s thoughts had been veering towards sympathy for Sir Trevor Elliot who probably had good reason to be concerned about his daughter’s safety. They slammed to a halt.
‘You’re a doctor?’
‘What did you think I was?’
Tama’s mouth opened and then closed. Opened again. Preconceptions were exploding somewhere in the back of his mind, pretty dresses and low IQs among them. ‘They…ah…said you worked in an emergency department, that’s all. I…ah…’
‘Assumed I was a nurse? A phlebotomist? Desk clerk?’ Mikki gave an incredulous huff and turned away. ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we? I’ve got a manicure booked for later today.’
* * *
She had to reach out and touch it just to convince herself it was real and not part of a dream.
It was hanging at the end of a row of hooks. A bright orange set of long-sleeved overalls with horizontal fluorescent strips below the elbows and knees and the official air rescue insignia on the front.
‘Had to be specially ordered in,’ Josh told her. ‘Smallest size they’ve ever been asked for.’
‘They were quick. It’s only been three days since I passed the pre-requisite.’ Mikki stole a glance at the lead member of her mentor crew but Tama was looking at his partner.
‘What was it they asked? If we had a mouse joining the crew?’
‘Hey…Mickey Mouse!’
Oh…no! Surely that awful nickname that she thought she’d left behind at primary school wasn’t about to resurface?
‘Mouse,’ Tama echoed thoughtfully. ‘Hmm. Small and very…’
Mikki gave him a look. If he dared suggest she was scared of anything, he was going to regret it.
His lips curved. For the first time Mikki saw genuine amusement in his face and it came alive, with sparks of real mischief in the dark depths of his eyes. And, boy, he knew exactly what he was doing here. Did he have the intelligence to recognise limits?
‘And smart,’ he said innocently. ‘Perfect.’ His smile took on a wicked edge that warned Mikki he wasn’t conceding victory quite yet. She followed his gaze as it travelled to where her hand was unconsciously stroking the fabric of her shiny new overalls.
‘Just like your nails,’ he added. ‘Good job.’
Mikki drew in a breath. Some limits might need neon signs.
‘Just for the record,’ she informed him, ‘I do not get manicures. My hair colour is natural and I have no intention of ever getting a boob job. Satisfied?’
His eyes widened a fraction but there was a flash of something other than feigned submission as he held his hands up, palms outward. Either he approved of her standing up for herself or he thought there was nothing wrong with the size of her breasts.
Mikki looked away. Tama might not be satisfied but she was. Enough to call a private truce. She’d let them get away with calling her ‘Mouse’ if that’s what it took to join this team.
It still seemed like a dream but those overalls were real. She bit back a grin as she finally stopped touching them. It should be enough that she was wearing the black pants and T-shirt with the base insignia. That she had the heavy black boots with steel-capped toes on her feet already.
‘What happens today?’ Mikki queried.
‘Depends,’ Tama responded unhelpfully.
‘On?’
‘Callouts,’ Josh supplied. He gave his partner an unreadable look but Mikki suspected a friendly reprimand was included. ‘If it’s quiet, Tama’s going to start your basic training.’
‘Cool.’
‘Yeah.’ Tama didn’t seem to be sharing her enthusiasm, however. ‘There’s a lot to get through.’
‘Such as?’
‘Procedures. How to use the paging system. Map reading. Basic chopper safety. Gear…’
Josh groaned. ‘Speaking of gear, I’ve got to get on with the stockroom check and clean up. It’s a mess thanks to how busy we’ve been. Want to swap, Tama? I could train Mouse.’
Mikki’s gaze flew to catch Tama’s.
Those undercurrents in her pre-requisite assessment had been unmistakable. He hadn’t thought she was a suitable candidate. He’d almost given the impression of experiencing physical pain when he’d had to tell her she’d passed and would be allowed to join the team for further training.
And then he’d gone. Just turned on his heel and left. It had been the station manager, Andy, who’d called her later to congratulate her and provide the information needed for the next stage, which had included arrangements for her uniform and other necessities.
Now Tama had the opportunity to step back. To give away the mentorship he’d been assigned. Was it permissible? Would he want to? Her gaze remained riveted on Tama’s and it was the paramedic who finally broke the eye contact.
‘Nah,’ he drawled. Had the decision been a close call? ‘I hate that paperwork that goes with a stocktake. I’ll keep the mouse.’
Mikki
