Her Very Special Boss. Anne Fraser
Читать онлайн книгу.
distance brought her to her feet. Were there wild animals out here? Maybe she should have stayed with the car. Instead, she now risked getting mauled by a lion or some other wild animal.
After a short rest, Kirsty forced herself on. Despite walking for another age, the matchbox houses stayed matchbox size. Just when she thought she could walk no further, she saw the flash of sunlight on an approaching car in the distance. Please, let them stop, she prayed. At least if they wouldn’t give her a lift they might have a phone she could use.
She almost cried with relief when the car slowed down before making a U-turn and coming to a stop beside her. The driver wound down the window and Kirsty found herself looking into a pair of glittering blue eyes.
‘Dr Kirsty Boucher?’ a deep voice said incredulously, adding before she could reply, ‘Good grief, woman, what on earth are you up to?’
Relief that the occupant was someone who knew who she was gave way to annoyance. Did he, whoever he was, think she enjoyed walking in her bare feet in temperatures that surely must be close to 100 degrees? Did he think she was the archetypal mad Englishwoman? She opened her mouth to tell him as much when he turned his face and she noticed the scars that ran from his right ear to his jawbone. Years of medical training meant that she was able to disguise her shock, but perhaps not as well as she thought. Or maybe it was an instinctive response, but the man passed his hand over the scar before leaping out of the car and coming around to stand in front of her.
Kirsty felt dwarfed by his massive frame, despite being over five feet eight in her bare feet. She took an involuntary step backwards.
‘I’m Greg. Greg du Toit,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘We expected you hours ago. What happened?’
Kirsty’s heart sank. This wasn’t how she had imagined her first meeting with Dr du Toit, her new boss and the physician superintendent of the hospital. Somehow she had assumed he’d be much older. The man in front of her looked to be no more than thirty.
‘Puncture, back a few miles,’ was all Kirsty could manage through her dry mouth.
‘And there wasn’t a spare in the boot? Someone’s head is going to roll. I tell them never to allow the cars to go out without checking. But come on, let’s get you out of the heat.’ For a moment he peered into Kirsty’s face. ‘And get you a drink of water. For God’s sake, don’t you know the first rule of Africa? Always carry plenty of water.’
Once again, Kirsty felt herself prickle with annoyance. He had no right to speak to her like she was some schoolgirl. OK, so she should have been able to change a tyre, but he should have ensured that the car she had been left was in better condition. Maybe for the time being she should let him believe that there hadn’t been a spare tyre? No, she couldn’t do that. If he found out, she would look an even greater idiot than she did already.
She sank gratefully into the cool seat of the four-by-four and she felt his eyes on her as she gulped greedily at the bottle of water he held out to her. When she had finally slaked her thirst she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
‘There was a spare wheel. I, er…I couldn’t remove the bolts,’ she lied. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. They were probably so rusted that she wouldn’t have managed anyway. She glanced down at her perfectly manicured hands, which bore no evidence of having been anywhere near a toolbox, and quickly hid them under her thighs. It was only a white lie, she told herself. She just couldn’t cope with this man’s disdain. Not now. Not today. Her should-have-been wedding day. Swallowing hard, she pushed the thought away. She had promised herself she wouldn’t think about it.
Greg glanced at his watch. ‘How far back is the car? Are you up to going back for it? I don’t want to leave it too long or we might find it stolen or dismantled by the time we get around to recovering it. We’re pretty short of cars at the complex.’ He smiled and all of a sudden the grim lines of his face relaxed. For the first time Kirsty looked at him properly. He really was quite attractive, if in a rugged sort of way, she admitted to herself. Not even the scar detracted from his looks. In an odd way, it even made him seem more vital somehow. Kirsty was already getting the distinct impression that this was a man who was used to people following his orders. Not that she would ever find another man attractive again—not after Robbie. Men were a thing of the past as far as she was concerned. She closed her eyes against the memories. She must stop thinking of the past and concentrate on the present. What was he suggesting? She stifled the protest that came to her lips. Go back? All she wanted was something to eat, a shower and a bed—and not necessarily in that order.
Still, Kirsty was painfully aware that the impression she had created so far was a million miles away from the one she had meant to make. Instead of the immaculately turned-out, efficient, career doctor she had hoped to present, here she was, bedraggled, dirt smeared and seemingly woefully unable to look after herself. Having to be rescued by her new boss had never been part of the plan.
‘Of course we should go back. It shouldn’t take long.’ She straightened in her seat. ‘I suppose they’ll keep me some dinner?’ She couldn’t quite erase the plaintive note from her voice.
Once again she felt his appraisal. This time she was conscious of his gaze taking in her dishevelled appearance and her scratched and bleeding feet. He frowned as he started the car.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, steering the car back onto the road in the direction from which he’d come. ‘You must be exhausted, as well as starving.’ Again that brilliant flash of teeth. ‘I’ll take you to the hospital and come back with one of the others. We usually eat around seven. If we hurry, you’ll just have enough time to freshen up before dinner. It’ll mean waiting for your luggage, I’m afraid, but I’ll bring it over as soon as I can.’
‘There’s no luggage,’ Kirsty told him. ‘It’s been delayed. Lost somewhere between here and Timbuktu, I imagine. I’ll have to find a way of collecting it from the airport tomorrow. Supposing they manage to find it.’ She couldn’t help sighing at the thought of a repeat journey the next day. But at least she’d have slept by then.
Greg muttered something under his breath that Kirsty suspected she wasn’t supposed to hear. ‘Bloody airlines. Still, it can’t be helped. The driver who was supposed to pick you up, but decided not to come at the last minute, can collect it on his way tomorrow. I did try to contact you to tell you to find yourself a hotel for the night, but I couldn’t get through on your mobile. I phoned the airport and they told me you had collected the car and were on your way. These roads aren’t safe for a single woman, especially at night. When you didn’t arrive by the time we expected you, I thought I’d better come looking. Just as well I did. You don’t look as if you were in any shape to finish the journey on foot.’
Once again Kirsty felt chastised, although it was hardly her fault. Instead of apologising—after all, the car was the hospital’s responsibility—the man was making it clear she was causing a lot of extra work.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, willing her voice to remain steady. ‘I really didn’t plan to cause all this bother.’
‘No problem,’ he said brusquely, but somehow Kirsty didn’t believe him. She was beginning to think she had made a dreadful mistake in coming here. She wondered bleakly if she would be able to work with this man. He was far too autocratic for her liking and already seemed to have taken against her. But there was nothing she could do about it right now. She was far too tired to think logically so she closed her eyes and within minutes was fast asleep.
She was jolted from her dreams by the sound of an explosion. She opened her eyes to see a minibus swerve erratically across the road in front of them, bits of rubber flying from a rear tyre. Disorientated, Kirsty sat bolt upright in her seat and, as Greg veered to avoid the out-of-control vehicle in front of them, she spread her hands to brace herself for impact. For several breath-taking moments the minibus continued to career from one side of the road to the other, churning up clouds of dust in its wake before finally spinning off the road. Its front wheels hit a shallow ditch and Kirsty held her breath as, with the sound of crunching metal, the vehicle slowly tipped over on its side.
As