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WADE'S WOMAN
By
Christina Carlisle
© copyright August 2005, Christina Carlisle
Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright August 2005
ISBN 1-58608-592-1
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
CHAPTER ONE
Tara anxiously twisted her hands as she once again paced the floor of the spacious lounge. Up and down. Up and down. What the hell was she doing here, she thought for the umpteenth time? Alone, in this lonely house in the wilds of the High Country. I must be mad! I should never have accepted this job. What if this Doctor Wade doesn't return? What if he doesn't actually exist? She gave a nervous laugh as her imagination began to run riot and she thought about the predicament in which she had placed herself.
The telephone's shrill ring caused her to jump violently and she grabbed it, relief flooding through her. Thank God! Human contact. "Tara Mason speaking," she breathed into the receiver.
"Are you having an affair with my husband?" The woman's voice was sharp and very much to the point.
"Pardon?" Tara pressed the phone to her ear, her mind racing.
The voice continued, "Oh, don't worry too much. I've got used to all of Ryan's little dalliances over the years." The voice now sounded faintly amused.
Tara tightened her grip on the receiver. Ryan? That was Doctor Wade's first name, she was sure. Could this be his wife? Swallowing hard she said, "I'm sorry but you've made a dreadful mistake. I've just started here-I'm Doctor Wade's new nurse."
"I'm sure you are," the voice continued, still reflecting amusement but with an underlying thread of heavy sarcasm. "Well, Nurse whoever you are, just pass this message to my beloved husband, wherever he might be. Tell him I'm getting married again and I'm suing for sole custody of my children."
The phone slammed down in Tara's ear making her flinch. Damn, what have I walked into? She must be an ex-wife or she wouldn't be talking about marrying again! Tara's mental bitch-monitor was doing acrobats.
Turning, she stared around the comfortable room, made welcoming by the dancing reflections of the red flames from a cosy fire. It wasn't the opulence she was used to in her father's home, but it reflected the security she desperately sought. Tara had felt safe for the first time in ages when the housekeeper Molly, had welcomed her earlier.
But now she thought about the implications of the comments made by the doctor's ex-wife and almost guiltily began to plait her luxurious, waist-length hair winding it around her head in a no-nonsense coil. Frowning at her reflection in the mirror over the fire place, she delved into her bag for her face-hiding glasses. That was better. She had never considered herself a beauty, even though her doting father had told her so, but she definitely hid behind a protective appearance now. She looked down at her old favourite jumper, well-worn jeans and strong walking shoes. It was hardly the slick city image she was used to presenting to the world!
Tara clenched her hands, wondering about her new boss and his wife's attack on his character. She needed this job. She had little money left in her account and needed to stay hidden from Tony and be allowed to grieve for her father in peace.
She held her breath. The only sound was the ticking from the large clock on the mantelpiece and the occasional crackle of wood burning in the fire. Where was the mysterious Doctor Wade? The housekeeper's last words had been "Just make yourself at home, love. The doctor won't be long." But that was over two hours ago!
Tara was about to go to her bedroom and start unpacking when the front door burst open. She jumped as it slammed against the wall with a loud crash. A gust of wind whirled around her legs as she lifted her head to stare at the imposing man framed in the doorway. He wore a long cloak protecting him against the chill autumn air. In one arm he cradled a crying baby, while the other was wrapped around a whimpering child clinging to his thigh. The man glared at Tara, causing her to draw back in alarm.
"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" The words were hurled at her with suspicion grimly etched across his stern, darkly handsome features. Tara hesitated as her eyes met his. This man was magnetic and dangerous.
"I'm Tara Mason." Tara's throat tightened. How ridiculous! She wasn't going to be intimidated by this overpowering man. "Your new nurse," she added firmly.
A look of astonishment crossed his face and then just as quickly disappeared as he moved forward with the children, kicking the door shut behind him.
"Take Ben, will you?" he said, holding the screaming child out to her so that she automatically stepped forward, taking him in her arms. "He's hungry and tired, that's all," he explained, as if to apologise for the baby's yelling.
"Shall I make up a bottle for him?" Tara smiled at the little girl who instantly hid behind her father's coat and then shyly peeked out.
"There's one ready in the fridge. I have to see to my daughter. She's running a temperature." He lifted the little girl in his arms and Tara noticed for the first time how flushed she was, her eyes over-bright with fever as she clung to her father's dark hair, her small hot cheek pressed against his.
Tara rocked Ben in her arms and his crying subsided as he chewed vigorously against his chubby fist. "It's all right. I'll see to Ben," she said, but Ryan was already walking along the passage to the bedroom area, the child still in his arms.
What an introduction. He had hardly acknowledged her presence. Tara shrugged. She couldn't blame him, since he was trying to cope with two tiny children who both needed attention, she thought as she fed and calmed the baby.
A cold shiver shot along Tara's spine as she felt his presence and looked up to see him studying her, an unreadable expression on his face.
"I'm Ryan Wade," he said gruffly. "Sorry. I forgot you were coming today."
Tara looked at his brooding eyes and the tightly clenched jaw and her stomach tensed with a knot of excitement and fear. She gave a convulsive little swallow and shifted the now sleepy baby into a more comfortable position. When she replied she kept her voice calm and unemotional. "That's okay, Doctor Wade. How's your daughter?"
"I've put Emma to bed but she's not well. I'm just going to get my medical bag from the car."
Tara frowned. Ryan looked seriously worried, his eyes reflecting his concern, his face drawn. She gazed down at Ben, now contentedly asleep, and decided to settle him in the nursery, which she had noticed earlier at the end of the hall.
Ben barely stirred as she deftly changed his nappy and placed him in the cot, wrapping him in warm blankets. She could hear Ryan talking to Emma in the adjoining room. Hesitating, she wondered if she should go in. What a peculiar situation she was in, alone on a cold night in the High Country with a strange man and his children. Straightening her shoulders, she pushed open the door and entered the room. After all, she was trained as a paediatric nurse. She would offer her help.
Ryan was sitting on the edge of Emma's bed listening intently to her chest with his stethoscope. Emma whimpered as she clung to her father's arm.
"I feel sick, Daddy," she cried. Tara ran to the kitchen and grabbed a basin from the sink. She managed to reach Ryan's side in time to hold the basin for Emma who was immediately violently ill.
"It's all right, sweetheart, it's okay." Ryan comforted the frightened child, wiping her face with a damp facecloth as she lay back on the pillow.
Tara rinsed the basin in the bathroom and set it beside the bed. As she watched Ryan continued examining the child, murmuring encouragement. Tara felt a tremor run through her at Ryan's obvious loving concern.
"Do you know what it is?" she said at last as Ryan replaced his stethoscope into his medical kit.
"A viral infection, by the look of it. Not too serious, thank God," he replied, winking at his daughter.
Tara nodded. The symptoms could appear extreme in small children.
Ryan stood up and looked directly at Tara as if seeing her for the first time since his dramatic entrance thirty minutes earlier. His eyes flicked over her and then rested on her mouth. Tara felt heat flood her cheeks as the atmosphere suddenly crackled with tension. "Stay with her," he said. "I'm going next door to the surgery to get some liquid paracetamol to settle her down."
Ryan didn't wait for Tara's reply but was gone, striding along the passage. She shivered with apprehension.
"My daddy's a doctor. He won't let anything happen to me." Emma's feverish eyes watched as Tara adjusted the bedclothes so that she didn't get overheated.
"Well, I'm a nurse and I've come here to help your daddy. So I hope you'll let me look after you too," Tara replied, giving her a warm smile.
Emma caught Tara's hand, her expression suddenly anxious. "You won't leave me like my mummy did, will you?"
Tara hesitated at the child's plaintive question. How could she reply? She didn't even know what was happening. Ryan's deep voice in response saved her from having to answer.
"Come on, chatterbox. Daddy has some medicine that will make you feel better. Open wide." Ryan spooned some paracetamol into Emma's mouth, which opened like a baby bird, her eyes resting trustingly on her father.
"Now, sleep young lady and I'll look in on you in the night."
"Okay. I love you, Daddy," she whispered.
"I love you too, sweetheart," he murmured in reply. Tara felt tears well in her eyes as Ryan gently kissed Emma goodnight and she drifted easily into sleep.
Then Ryan turned and she felt the full impact of his eyes on her. "I assume that Ben is asleep too so, we should have a talk now."
Tara nodded and followed Ryan into the kitchen. The sensation of familiarity between them was so powerful that she wondered if they had met before. She felt the piercing shaft of some unknown emotion as she stared at his dark, almost unkempt hair, suppressing the urge to smooth the wayward locks.
"Are you hungry? Molly, my housekeeper, normally leaves me a meal to heat up," he said, peering into the fridge.
"She said she'd cooked a casserole for us." Tara studied Ryan from beneath her lashes as he retrieved a casserole dish from the fridge and placed it in the microwave.
Dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, he appeared even taller than when she had first seen him. She guessed he must be in his mid to late thirties. Her gaze travelled over his shaggy hair, which hung down on his collar shadowing the lean, tanned face with its high, chiselled cheekbones and firm, sensual mouth. His deep brown eyes matched the aura of brooding stillness he exuded, and sadness was etched into the hard planes of his face.
The microwave pinged. Ryan removed the food and placed it on the table along with large dinner plates and cutlery. "Help yourself," he said, pulling a chair up beside her.
They ate in silence, the need to talk apparently forgotten. Tara's head drooped with tiredness and she abruptly pulled herself upright. It had been a long, exhausting day and her arrival not exactly welcoming.
"Where have you driven from?" Ryan's question was polite enough, but Tara was puzzled that he didn't know.
"Melbourne. I arrived mid afternoon and your housekeeper let me in."
"Quite a change from the city to the High Country. Have you been here before?"
"No."
"We're going into the worst time of the year. It gets bloody cold up here, but it's awesomely beautiful."
Tara carefully replaced her knife and fork on the plate and taking a deep breath, decided she would have to take the initiative to sort things out. "Doctor Wade, you were expecting a fully trained nurse to arrive from Melbourne, weren't you?"
Ryan look startled at her blunt question. "Well, yes. But, as I said, I'd forgotten when she was coming."
Tara smiled, trying to disguise her feelings of apprehension. "Not she, me," she replied. "Tara Mason. The Nursing Agency recommended me to you and your partner. The practice manager interviewed me in Melbourne a month ago when you couldn't get away. I was appointed on a twelve-month contract signed by you. I'm a highly qualified senior paediatric nurse and here to start work tomorrow."
Tara stopped. Ryan was staring at her as if she was from another planet. She pressed a nervous hand to her stomach as the tension soared.
Ryan rubbed a hand over his jaw and then through his thick hair. "I apologise that I wasn't able to conduct your interview, but I'm afraid there's been a mistake."
He hesitated, and then dropped the bombshell. "Look, there's no easy way to say this. You shouldn't have been appointed."
Jeez! I'm handling this so badly! Ryan groaned inwardly as he saw Tara go pale with fear. How was he ever going to explain his last statement? He knew the moment he had seen her that it wouldn't work. A young woman sharing a house with him--what great gossip that would provide for the locals.
"I don't understand."
No, of course she didn't and Ryan couldn't blame her. He knew he was stepping into a minefield. He would have to tell her. "Tara, this has nothing to do with your qualifications. In fact, you're almost too well qualified for the position." He was tempted to put his hand on her arm for comfort but restrained himself.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Ryan watched her face tighten as she prepared to fight him. He couldn't decide at that moment whether she was very plain or extraordinarily beautiful. Her mouth was too wide and generous and her cheekbones too prominent in what was really an unremarkable face--except for her eyes. They were the lightest blue between sooty, dark lashes. The heavy framed glasses did nothing to disguise her stricken expression. He guessed her dark-brown severely-plaited hair was supposed to add to her no-nonsense demeanour. But it didn't hide the fragile bone structure and her long, elegant neck. Although, like him she wore a thick chunky sweater and jeans, he couldn't help but notice her slender wrists and thin, artistic hands clenched together now in her anxiety.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Twenty eight. Your colleagues met with me in Melbourne and employed me, so they know my age."
Faint colour rose in her cheeks. She was upset and he was the bastard who was causing it, but he had to sort this out. Silently he cursed his partner and manager. What the hell had they been thinking, placing Tara and him in this position?
"I know you could bring an unfair dismissal claim against me and cause problems with the Nurses Federation and God knows what else, but it is imperative that we reconsider your position." Ryan fidgeted with his knife aware that Tara was watching and waiting.
"You know that this is a live-in position with living expenses covered as perks of the job?"
"Yes."
"Well, the reason for this arrangement is that I need someone to keep an eye on my kids if I get called out in the evening or night, which happens quite often. It happened tonight. I had an emergency call and had to leave the kids with a neighbour and collect them later, which is why they were with me when I arrived home."
"I've been told the arrangements and I'm happy with them."
Ryan sighed. This was where he'd have to 'get up close and personal,' metaphorically speaking. "What you don't know is that my last nurse was in her sixties. She retired a couple of weeks ago and moved interstate to care for her mother." He wanted to touch Tara's hand to ease her distress but realised how she might misinterpret the gesture. Instead he leaned forward resting his arms on the table.
"This is a small community, Tara, and very isolated from city life. There are around two thousand people that our practice takes care of throughout the region and it's a little like an English village, where people love to gossip. You, a young, attractive woman, would be living here alone with me."
The colour rose up her slim throat and he almost groaned aloud. God! She
wasn't plain, she was beautiful!
He felt a strange hot emotion gathering in his chest as he continued to speak, conscious of her wide blue eyes watching him. "Look, there would be a lot of speculation about our relationship and I really don't want to subject you to that. It could get very uncomfortable." Ryan paused, relieved that he'd managed to explain things logically. Whether Tara, as a city girl, would accept it was another thing. She would probably consider it a great fuss about nothing.
"Is this to do with your wife?" Her voice was tinged with sympathy and the question took Ryan completely off guard. The corner of his mouth twisted as he raised a dark eyebrow, his gaze narrowed on her face.
"What do you know about my wife?"
Tara hesitated. While Ryan had been speaking she had been agonising over the earlier phone call. It appeared to substantiate his comments about likely gossip. How could she possibly tell him what his wife had said? What a cruel message to give. She wondered if there was more to this situation than merely the concern of local gossip.
Squeezing her hands together, Tara decided she would have to explain. "She rang while you were out."
"And?" His voice was quiet but she could sense the anger burning inside him.
"She asked if we were having an affair."
The words sounded crass and ridiculous and she felt another blush of embarrassment rising beneath her skin. Perhaps this handsome man did have affairs but that was none of her business, and certainly shouldn't make any difference to her staying in his home. They were both professional people.
Ryan, when he spoke, was calm and unemotional. "I'm sorry you were subjected to that. Carol left the children and me about a year ago. The divorce was finalised last week but she still has a couple of close women friends in the town that would have let her know you'd arrived. As I've mentioned, this is a small place and news spreads like wild fire."
"It doesn't concern me, Doctor Wade," Tara responded. "I'm here to do the job I've been trained for. On the strength of my contract with you I have resigned from the Royal Children's and moved from my home. Unless you at some time in the near future find my work unsatisfactory, then I think you should honour my contract."
Ryan looked stunned at Tara's outburst.
"Perhaps we'll wait until we've talked it through with the practice team tomorrow. We may need to give things a few days trial." There was a cautious tone to his voice.
A few days trial was better than nothing, Tara decided, but she was still worried about her position here. It wasn't exactly the security she'd been hoping for.
"You'd better call me Ryan. I don't think the gossips will mind that," he added, with a wry smile.
Tara didn't return his smile but instead steeled herself to relate the news that she was pretty sure would shatter him. "Your wife also asked me to pass on the message that she's getting married again and that…that she intends to sue for custody of the children."
She shuddered at the stricken look on Ryan's face. She had met him only an hour ago and yet the love and tenderness he felt for his kids had shone from within him like a huge, bright light.
Ryan sat motionless with shock causing Tara to lightly touch his arm. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, wondering what else she could say.
He looked up and she was struck at the darkly, bitter expression on his face. "It's not your problem," he said, getting up abruptly and piling their dishes into the sink. "Do you want to go and unpack your things?"
ALASKAN FIRE
By
Christina Carlisle
© copyright September 2005, Christina Carlisle
Cover art by Kat Richards, © copyright September 2005
ISBN 1-58608-645-6
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
CHAPTER ONE
"Tin pot television!" he growled.
"That's unfair." Jess spoke firmly, but her body language denied confidence as she shifted in her chair. "I have all-round experience in news and current affairs."
"My dear girl, you're a babe in arms. I need an experienced journalist, not some junior reporter from a hick country TV station," his eyes narrowed as he watched her.
Jess almost crushed the file she was holding in an effort to control her temper. "You're mistaken, Mr. Armstrong," she said hotly. "Your partner, Mr. Powell, chose to employ me on my merits as an A-Grade journalist."
"I am the senior partner and my decision overrides John's."
Sam Armstrong levered himself from his chair and coming around to the front of the desk, leaned toward Jess. His fingers closed around her delicate jaw lifting her face to his. Jess held her breath as she stared at his sensually shaped mouth, inches from hers. "Your merits, Jessica, are those big baby blue eyes and that great bone structure," he murmured, studying her features.
Stepping back, he deliberately assessed the soft curves of her breasts and her slender stockinged thighs displayed to perfection by her short pencil-slim skirt.
Jess stood up, her cheeks burning with indignation. "You are insulting."
Sam didn't seem to hear her. He leaned against the desk folding his arms across his chest.
"Do you know what my partner would have thought, Jessica?" he continued conversationally. "Now, here is a raw recruit who needs lots of work but...the camera will love her." Before Jess could move, Sam reached over and ran a cool finger down one flushed cheek. His voice took on a husky tone. "And he was right. The camera will love you."
Jess was mesmerized by his eyes, which held hers, daring her to look away. Suddenly Sam broke the spell. "But, I don't have time to train people in the business," he said brusquely. "I expect them to know what it's about and with your background you can't possibly have the experience for this job." Sam turned away but Jess grabbed his arm.
"Just what do you mean by that?"
"It means, I'm sorry but I have no place in my show for you," he said evenly, his eyes on her fingers clutching at his sleeve.
"You can't fire me like this. You haven't read my resume or looked at my video clips." Jess controlled her rising panic.
"I know all I need to know."
"Please, Mr. Armstrong. I ask you to reconsider." Jess spoke quietly to hold back her emotions. Thoughts pushed emotional barriers as she struggled to understand. How could Sam Armstrong do this? After working toward this chance for eight years, she had resigned her job, found a flat in Sydney, and left family, friends… and Tom. How could he do this?
There was silence except for the sound of Jess' distressed breathing. Sam turned and stared out of the window at the busy city street below. Jeez! I'm handling this badly, he thought. I'm ripping into this poor girl because I'm tired and irritable. He watched a young child skipping along the pavement laughing up at her mother, oblivious to any worries. For a moment, his mind slid back to the filth and squalor of the children's hospital where he had been filming two days before in the Middle East. Could he ever forget the terror in the eyes of the children with seemingly no hope for the future? And here I am in my own way destroying all the hopes and dreams of a budding television reporter. Well done, Sam. You're doing a great job!
Jess looked down at her shaking hands. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids and she angrily blinked them away. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, placing her file down on the desk.
"Oh no, Mr. Armstrong. You don't get away with this so easily," she said holding a letter toward him. She was again in control. Sam turned a look of surprise on his face as he surveyed her flushed skin, her eyes dark and vibrant with anger, her mouth pursed with emotion.
"This is my letter of appointment on company letterhead signed by John Powell, Director. If you don't honor this, I will consider taking the matter further and I will also consider suing you for...for sexual harassment!" Jess sat down abruptly, her legs unable to hold her any longer.
Sam raised quizzical eyebrows. "Sexual harassment? How does that come into it?" he asked, sitting at his chair again and skimming his eyes over her letter.
"You touched me just now."
"I touched your cheek. Hardly sexual harassment."
"It wasn't where you touched me, it was..."Jess hesitated.
"Well, come on--it was what?" Sam threw the letter on the desk.
Lifting her chin, Jess met his enigmatic stare. "It was how you touched me and the way you looked at me … the way you spoke," she said, refusing to look away from his cool, green eyes.
"I said the camera would love you. You are a beautiful girl. I am an artist and it is my job to see images through the eye of a camera. If you don't know that people like to look at pretty things then you have more to learn than I ever imagined."
"I don't know what you meant by it but I do know that this job is morally mine. I am a very good journalist and I deserve a chance. If you fire me, I will kick up such a fuss that you will wish you had never heard my name." Jess gulped, praying the tears welling in her eyes wouldn't fall.
Sam studied her, a strange light in his eyes. "You are a lot tougher than you look, aren't you, Jessica Seymour," he said softly. "However, I don't like being threatened."
"Neither do I," Jess retorted sharply.
Sam leaned back in his chair swinging it gently from side to side. He fiddled with a paper clip, pulling it undone and breaking it into tiny pieces. Then he got up and walked around behind Jess. She had nerve he'd certainly give her that. He liked the way she stood up to him particularly when he was being such a pain--and he knew it! Perhaps it was worth giving her a go. God knows they needed another journalist on board. Sam wondered if Jess would cope when the going became really tough. He rubbed his jaw, uncertain of what to do for almost the first time in his life.
Jess could feel his eyes studying and analyzing. She sat quite still. She was outwardly calm and looking ahead, her eyes tracing the outline of the Sydney skyscrapers. She could see the shell-shaped outline of the Opera House and behind it, the bridge reaching majestically across the harbor. Inside her mind was in turmoil as her world crashed around her. The last thing she expected was this reaction. She swallowed hard as Sam Armstrong once again reached for her file.
The minutes ticked slowly as Sam read her portfolio, pausing when he came to the photograph attached to her resume. He stared at it for what seemed an eternity. Jess, in turn, studied his bent head noting the shock of black hair with unruly strands falling over his forehead. His nose was classically straight and his eyes, now downcast, were fringed with amazingly long, dark lashes. His naturally olive skin had a golden sheen showing the weeks of working in the open air. Jess felt an odd tingling in the pit of her stomach. Goodness! He was even more attractive in real life than on television, she thought.
Sam abruptly closed the file and handed it to Jess. She blushed as their gazes locked and wondered if her thoughts showed on her face.
"You had better attend the production meeting at ten in half an hour," he said glancing at his watch as he got up from his chair.
Jess also rose wondering if this strange interview had come to an end. "Does this mean I can keep my job?"
"Yes. But let's get something straight from the start, Jessica. I am tough to work for."
"I'm aware of your reputation."
"Then you will know I expect the best and I get it."
"I have trained to be the best."
"Attitude is also important. I am not interested in journalists who run to the union because they think I've done the wrong thing by them."
"I've never complained to a union."
"Good. Well, you will see the people who work for me don't need to bleat about anything because I treat them extremely well. As for sexual harassment--no one has ever accused me of that before."
Jess' head shot up as he ground out the words and she stepped back a pace.
"Remember, you will be groomed as an on-air presenter of the top current affairs and human-interest program in the country. You will be prodded, pushed and pulled by a team of publicists, photographers and wardrobe people. There's no room for prudish behavior. When you're on the road you could be sleeping rough surrounded by an all-male film crew. There will be times when you are exhausted, hungry, hot, dirty and wishing you were anywhere else than working for World Watch. Do you understand? Do you still want the job?" His face was intent as he watched her and his potent energy reached out, touching and surrounding her.
"Yes, I do," she said crisply.
Sam shrugged. "Okay. I'll see you at ten. By the way Jessica, everyone around here calls me Sam," he said as an apparent after-thought as she opened the door.
Jess turned, her sapphire eyes still sparkling with anger and indignation. "Thank you, Mr. Armstrong," she said closing the door firmly behind her.
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