thought he’d hammered his heart back together with armour plating. He had vowed never to let himself be so vulnerable again. Loving hurt. Losing hurt more.
His latest ex described him as closed. Cold. Clearly his approach had worked well with her. It had always worked for his father too. He was only doing what he’d learnt by parental example. Don’t let anyone in, and you won’t run a risk of being destroyed in the fallout.
But being here with Mim had the plating cracking already. Despite the million promises he’d made to himself. Take a leaf out of Father’s book. Focus on work. Work was easy. Structured, rigid, predictable. With outcomes he could control. Unlike relationships.
And still she hovered. Could she not see how distracting she was being? ‘Early days, Mim. I’m busy here.’
‘Sorry. If you need anything …’
‘I’ll call. This place is so small you’d hear me if I whispered.’ Uncertainty tainted her chocolate-fudge eyes but she didn’t move. He exhaled and tried to keep the exasperation hidden. ‘How desperate are you to pass this assessment, Mim?’
‘I’m not desperate. Not at all.’ Her shoulders went ramrod straight. He remembered her pride and ingrained independence. He’d been on the whipping end of that before. And it stung.
Her pupils dilated. ‘But getting the accreditation will help. I have plans to expand, and I need more rooms, a visiting physio, counsellor, nutritionists.’
‘Okay, we’ll start with the financial reports. I’ll read through them now. Then have a quick chat about budgets and audit.’
‘Ooh, I can’t wait. You really know how to impress a girl.’ She laughed, then edged back a little as if she’d overstepped the mark. Her voice quieted. ‘Sorry. Must be nerves.’
‘You cut your hair.’
Why the hell had he even noticed that? Let alone said it?
She ran a hand over her short bob absent-mindedly. ‘Not that it matters but, yes. A while ago now.’
‘It suits you.’ It was probably a good thing that the long dark curls he’d loved to rake his hands through were gone. No temptation there.
The style made her look older, more mature. And she was thinner. Her watch hung from her wrist. Her misshapen green jumper draped off her frame.
‘You’re looking good yourself. Very executive. A big change from … before.’ She looked away, heat burning her cheeks. Not for the first time today. She was either embarrassed as hell—as she should be—or just plain nervous. Desperate.
She ran a slow finger across her clavicle. Not a sexual gesture, again it was more absent-minded than anything else. He’d swear on it. But his gaze followed the line her finger traced and a video of kissing a path along that dip played in his head.
Damn. He clamped his teeth together to take his mind off her throat. He didn’t want memories burning a hole in his skull. Memories and emotions were pointless and skewered his thought processes. They couldn’t fix a problem or bring someone back. And they hurt too much.
He wasn’t going to hurt any more.
No, he just needed to get the job done, then out. Unscathed and unburdened. And having her right here in his space was not going to work.
He scraped his chair across the faded pink carpet. ‘Okay, scoot. Get out of my hair. I need to concentrate. There’s a lot of paperwork to get through. I’ll call you when I need you.’
She nodded, her finger darting from her neck to her mouth. ‘One quick question.’
‘You are insufferable.’ But, then, he’d always known that, and it hadn’t made a difference to loving her. He held up two fingers. ‘Two seconds then you have to leave. Okay?’
‘Okay, boss. I just wondered—first impressions?’ She looked at him through a thick fringe. Her eyes accentuated by the matching chocolate hair colour. Rich and thick. Frustration melted into something more dangerous.
Maybe running his fingers through couldn’t hurt …
First impressions? Sexy as hell.
‘That’s going to take a heck of a lot longer than two seconds. And you might not like it.’ He pulled his gaze away. Tried to find something positive to say before he hit her with the unassailable truth. Kiss-kick-kiss. Perhaps then she’d leave. When he’d broken her heart with his first impression. ‘I’ve scanned through the Imms register and I’m surprised.’
She looked expectantly at him. ‘Good surprised?’
‘Come on, Mim, I’m just starting. I’ve hardly had a chance to get my head around things. There’s a lot of work to be done yet, but your immunisation rates are outstanding. Big tick for that.’
Pride swelled her voice. ‘Every time I see a patient I remind them about imms. So important.’
‘Admirable.’
She was trying so hard to impress he almost felt sorry for her. But for their history. He ran a hand over the window-sill and showed her the peeling flecks of yellow paint. Now for the kick.
‘But the structure and organisational processes leave a lot to be desired. Your intentions are good, but from where I’m standing it’s a shabby practice in the middle of a rundown township. I’m hoping I’m going to find some better news in your business plans and policies.’
‘Of course, policies, your hobby horse. Don’t hold your breath. Not really my strong suit. But …’
‘I know, it’s a work in progress. That might not be good enough. Perhaps we should do this in a year or so, once you’ve had time to prepare in accordance with the guidelines.’
She visibly flinched and he briefly wished he could take it back.
But he wasn’t there to protect her. He was there to do an objective assessment as a representative of a local authority. ‘Routines and regulations make things run smoothly. Save lives in the long run. Without them people get lost. Accidents happen. People die.’
Janey. The armour round his heart quivered then clenched tight at the thought of his sister. No point trying to explain to Mim. What would she care? He wasn’t inclined to share his motives with an untrustworthy ex-girlfriend. However sinfully sexy. ‘I said I’d be honest.’
She turned back to him, eyes now firing with determination. The old Mim shone through. She may have been subdued, but she was there simmering in the background.
‘Okay, so, Dana’s Drop-In might not be conventional, it’s not standardised and faceless like your fancy chrome Auckland offices. I admit I need processes. But it will work, Connor. What did you say about potential?’
‘I was talking about Atanga Bay in general, not this place.’ Grateful for the clash of swords and not sentiment, he began to relax. ‘Bowling it and starting again would fix a lot. But you always were … how did my father put it? Odd.’
‘I might be odd by your father’s standards, but my style works
