put me in the position of deciding he’s guilty whether he is or not, and that would certainly be offensive to him.’
Cam could see Mike’s point.
‘You don’t want to ruin a friendship by stepping in,’ Cam told him. ‘The man might need help but he needs his friends to stick by him as well. From what I’ve read, most of the men attending programmes have been ordered to attend by the courts.’
Jo sighed and nodded at him.
‘You’re right, but less than fifty per cent of our women ever take their partners to court or even get a domestic violence order against them.’
‘I can’t see that a programme would work if we’re expecting men who don’t believe they’re abusive to attend voluntarily,’ Mike told her.
‘But we need to get it started. As well as helping men learn to react in non-violent ways, which I accept is the main reason for such a programme, it’s just the kind of thing that could add to our worth as far as the funding bodies are concerned. That could help keep the refuge open,’ Jo replied. ‘It’s exactly the kind of thing that they—the relevant government departments—like to see happening. It would fit into their blueprint for long-term solutions for battered women, and it would show we have an integrated service instead of just a safe place for women to stay on a temporary basis.’
‘Could we work it through the women’s support group that Lauren runs?’ Cam suggested, not liking the desperation in Jo’s voice and pleased to be able to add something useful to the conversation. ‘What if the women concerned could make their partner’s attendance in a programme a condition of their returning to the relationship—would that work?’
‘It might,’ Jo said, offering a rather tired smile—a tired smile that reminded him that it had already been a long day, with more than enough emotion involved, first of all collecting Jackie, then Jo’s unhappiness on the walk up the headland.
‘It’s not the best time to be discussing this,’ Cam said firmly. ‘We need to get together, maybe get Tom on board as well, and definitely Lauren, and see how we can make a men’s programme work.’ He turned to Mike. ‘Now, do you think Richard Trent represents a danger to Jo? If so, I’m happy to sleep in my camper in the carport. Any vehicle approaching would wake me with its lights.’
Mike looked put out, as if Cam had undermined his official authority somehow.
‘I doubt Richard Trent would take his anger out on Jo,’ Mike admitted.
‘I’ll be fine so go home, both of you,’ Jo told them. ‘We’ll talk again tomorrow. Cam’s idea of all of us getting together is a good one. I can organise an afternoon with no appointments later in the week—is Friday all right for you, Mike?’
‘This week it’s okay—next week is schoolies and chaos. But, yes, if you can get Tom and Lauren, we could have it at the community centre in town and brainstorm some ideas.’
Jo led the two men back through the house to the carport, fully expecting Cam to peel off and go into the flat, but, no, he hung around while Mike said goodbye, hung around as Mike drove off, then, as she was beginning to wonder if he’d ever go inside, he touched her lightly on the shoulder.
‘Why don’t you sleep in the flat—in the second bedroom—just in case?’
They’d been moving enough for the sensor light to have remained on, so she was able to look up into his face, but she could read nothing there but concern and kindness.
‘Just in case this man turns up,’ he clarified, then, as if aware she could barely fathom the offer, let alone make a decision, he added, ‘Go on! You know it’s the safest option. I’ll wait here while you get your gear and toothbrush, but don’t fuss around—I need to get to bed if I’m going to catch a wave before work in the morning.’
Jo went.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t spent time in the flat before, she reminded herself. She’d lived there in the rose garden when her father had still been living in the house—when she had been working with him after Jilly’s death.
And an angry Richard Trent was an unknown quantity to all of them, so it made sense to sleep in the flat.
In a bedroom right next door to Fraser Cameron?
The same Fraser Cameron who’d held her in his arms, comforted her, and for a moment made her think he might have kissed her?
The same Fraser Cameron who made her stomach drop when she turned and saw him unexpectedly?
Well, she wouldn’t be seeing him unexpectedly, would she? She’d be in one bedroom and he’d be in the other and she could stay in bed until he went for a surf then scurry back home to shower and get ready for work.
It would be okay …
And it was.
Right up until she walked into the flat and saw him in the boxer shorts he obviously wore to bed. Not tight enough to be too revealing, they still clung to a butt that could make any woman swoon, while the bare chest, a toasty brown with a scattering of dark hairs, made her knees go weak.
Attraction shouldn’t be so strong so quickly. It must be that she was tired and over-emotional that this man’s body was tugging at hers, as if invisible threads—finer than spiders’ webs—were tangling them together.
‘Hot chocolate?’
She heard the words but the picture they conjured up—licking chocolate off that chest, dipping her tongue into a chocolate-filled navel—made her groan out loud.
‘You don’t like hot chocolate?’
She dragged her eyes upwards to his face and caught an expression of disbelief.
‘I thought everyone liked hot chocolate,’ he added, with such a warm, open smile she felt doubly ashamed of her thoughts and could feel blood rushing to her cheeks to make her shame obvious.
‘Not tonight,’ she managed in a garbled voice, and she fled to the second bedroom, so pleased to escape him she had to open the door she’d shut behind her to call out a goodnight.
After which she shut it firmly once again and collapsed onto the bed.
What was happening to her?
Easy to answer that. She was falling in lust with her employee.
And just where would that get her?
Given that he was the epitome of tall, fairly dark and extremely handsome and could obviously have any woman he wanted and wouldn’t look twice at a scrawny redhead, absolutely nowhere, that’s where.
Not that she wanted this inexplicable attraction to go anywhere. Love led to loss in her experience and she wasn’t ready to lose any more bits of herself.
Love? Where had love come into the equation? She’d been thinking lust—nothing more.
THE
