style="font-size:15px;"> CHAPTER TWO
TO MIM’S infinite irritation, Connor appeared unfazed by her barbed comment. He stared her down, then shook out of his jacket and rolled his Italian cotton shirtsleeves up. Sparks flew from his onyx eyes.
‘Mim, you never worried about getting down and dirty before. What’s changed? Frightened you might get burnt?’ He threw the jacket onto the desk. ‘I’m not going to sit back while there’s a major incident unfolding. I’ll go up there and see if I can help.’
‘What are you going to do? Waft the fire out with your questionnaire?’
He visibly bristled but the sensual flare in his eyes spelled trouble. Connor had always loved sparring with her. Said she was the most fiery woman he’d ever met. That it was the biggest turn-on ever. Some things hadn’t changed. He smiled confidently, inviting more. Seemed they couldn’t help firing incendiary shots back and forth even after three years. ‘It would work better than all that hot air you’re generating.’
‘You haven’t changed a jot, Connor Wiseman. Still as bloody-minded as ever. But right now I’m sure the firefighters don’t need a do-gooder city slicker hindering their work.’
She walked up the corridor, sucked in a breath and tried to concentrate on one disaster at a time. Priority: bush fire. Lives at risk. And he followed, clearly undeterred.
She stopped in Reception and explained to him, ‘There’s a campsite not far from Two Rivers. It’s been a long, dry summer and the bush is brittle. A fire could get out of hand pretty quickly. As I’m community warden, and the only med centre for miles, protocol states they bring the injured here. It’s safer and out of the line of fire.’
Protocol. He’d like that.
‘So we stay here for now. You’ll need all the help you can get.’
‘We need to be ready. Dressing packs and oxygen cylinders are in the treatment rooms, there’s labels on the drawers and shelves. It should be self-explanatory.’ She paused as sirens screeched past the surgery towards the new development.
Time hadn’t diminished his bombastic streak. Connor still went hell for leather along his own path without taking much notice of what anyone else had to say. But he was right, she didn’t have the luxury of turning away another pair of skilled hands in an emergency.
‘We also have a walk-in clinic running at the moment, which is always busy Monday mornings. Sure you can handle this, city boy? Things could get messy.’
To her surprise, his smile widened. Irritating and frustratingly appealing all at the same time. He stepped closer, his breath grazing her neck. Making the hairs on her neck prickle to attention.
‘Is that a threat, Mim? Or a promise?’
‘I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’ The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. He’d got her hackles up. Just having him there threw her way off balance.
He arched an eyebrow. All the raw, potent tension, zinging between them like electricity, coming to a head. ‘Oh, really? Tell that to my parents and the caterers and the party guests.’
‘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
