at her, she’d be tempted to throw herself at him. If she wanted to avoid all the woman-traps that her mother had fallen into over the years, it would be a great deal easier if Ben Matthews didn’t smile. Ever.
* * *
Ben had watched her all morning, and had hardly got a thing done. His crew, on the other hand, had been subtly persuaded to get on with their jobs, while Callie observed. She asked questions, laughed at everyone’s jokes, and made a few self-deprecating ones of her own. It was all designed to put them at their ease, wipe the fixed smiles from their faces and get them to act naturally.
He saw her quietly lining up a few shots from the corner of the garage, and Ben had puzzled over why she should want them. Then the alarm sounded and she was suddenly back in that spot. He realised that it was the optimum out-of-the-way location to catch the movement of men and women, and then the noisy rush as the fire engine started up and swept out of the garage. She was good.
Maybe the professional thing to do was to try giving her the benefit of the doubt. He’d assumed that Callie was all about the cliché, but everything she’d done so far told him that she was all about the reality. Ben waited for a lull in the morning’s activity and saw her heading for the ready room. He followed her, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
‘Would you like one?’ He gestured towards his own cup and Callie shot him a suspicious look. He probably deserved that.
‘No, thanks. A glass of water...’ She pursed her lips and something in her eyes told him that one of the quiet, dry jokes he’d heard her share with the crew was coming. ‘If you trust me not to throw it all over you, that is.’
‘You’re thinking about it?’
‘I’m told that wet fireman shots are very popular.’ She smiled suddenly, and Ben reconsidered the dilemma that had been bugging him all morning. The best thing about Callie wasn’t the way she moved, or her long legs, or even her bright green eyes. It was her smile.
‘I guess I deserve that.’
‘I guess you do.’
The sound of ice breaking crackled in his ears as he filled a glass from the water dispenser. Ben walked over to the table, leaving an empty seat between his and hers when he sat down.
Callie was watching him thoughtfully. ‘Your concerns are reasonable. Everyone wonders what a photographer is going to make of them, and one of the issues that was raised when I visited last week was that I didn’t glamorise your work.’
Ben had missed that. Maybe that was why his crew all seemed so relaxed around her. She’d already talked about the kind of photos she intended to take, and they knew what he hadn’t stopped to find out. Perhaps he should try asking questions before he jumped to conclusions.
‘Why did you choose Blue Watch?’
‘Because you’re the only ones on duty over the whole of the Christmas period.’
Of course. Ben felt suddenly foolish.
‘If there’s anything else you want to ask me...’ Her gaze dropped from his face suddenly and she started to fiddle with her camera.
There was something. ‘You say you’re just an observer. But you frame your shots. I saw you scoping out the best place to stand when the alarm rang.’
This time she thought about her answer. ‘Sometimes you have to be in the right place to see things clearly.’
Callie reached for the tablet on the table in front of her. Switching it on, she flipped through the photographs. ‘What do you think of this one? Is it an accurate representation?’
Ben caught his breath. It wasn’t just a photograph of a fire engine leaving the station, she’d caught the movement and urgency, hinting somehow at the noise and the touch of adrenaline that accompanied it. Ben hadn’t thought that would be possible unless you’d lived those moments.
‘That’s really good.’ Really good didn’t sum it up. But, then, he was no art critic. ‘I’d say it was accurate.’
‘Thanks.’ She stood up suddenly. ‘I’d better get on.’
Ben watched her walk away from him. Perhaps that was the attraction. A beautiful woman who could walk away without looking back.
But maybe that was just the last eighteen months talking. He and Isabel had never really been right for each other, but he’d been intoxicated by her soft beauty. When he’d realised that it wasn’t going to work between them, he’d tried to break things off gently, but Isabel wouldn’t have it. Texts, phone calls. Looking out of his window to see her car parked outside at all hours of the day or night. And then the real craziness had started...
That was over now, and he didn’t want to think about it. He wasn’t particularly proud of the way he’d handled things and Isabel hadn’t contacted him in months. A woman walking away from him was just that—not some sign that there was someone out there who could make him feel the things that had come so easily before he’d met Isabel.
He studiously ignored Callie for the rest of the day. She was making a good job of keeping out of the way, and that suited Ben just fine.
‘THE PHOTOGRAPHS ARE IN, BOSS.’ Ben found Eve hovering at the door of his office.
‘Photographs?’ He wondered whether his expression of surprise cut any ice. He’d been thinking about Callie a lot more than was strictly necessary over the last two weeks.
Eve rolled her eyes. ‘There’s a parcel on your desk. It came by courier.’
‘Okay, thanks.’ It seemed that Eve wasn’t going to leave him alone to open it. ‘Let’s take a look then.’
Eve followed him into his office, looking over his shoulder as Ben carefully ran a knife around the tape that bound the box on his desk. Inside was a brief letter from Callie, stating that she’d enclosed a few photographs for review. And underneath that a stack of sealed manila envelopes, each of which carried a name and a Private and Confidential sticker.
‘Where are mine...?’
‘Hold on a minute.’ Ben sorted through the envelopes, handing over the one that bore Eve’s name.
‘You can show them to me...if you want to.’
Eve was the one member of his crew that he wanted most to protect. Ben hadn’t been there when she’d sustained the burns on her shoulder, but he’d been told how much courage she’d shown that day. And he’d seen the pain in her face when he’d visited her at the hospital. Eve had cried, just the once, saying that the burns were so ugly, and when she’d finally returned to work, Ben had noticed that she never wore anything that exposed her upper arms, even on the hottest day.
‘I might...’ Eve sat down on the chair next to his desk, running her finger under the seal of the envelope and taking the A4 photographs out. She flipped through them carefully and Ben saw her cheeks burn red. Then a tear rolled down her cheek.
If Callie had upset Eve
