Mark smiled at her. Alexia felt her insides ripple in response, even though she couldn’t tell if his smile was sympathetic or if he was just amused by her discomfiture. ‘I take it you’re not keen?’ he asked.
Alexia sighed. ‘Not really. And the event was all my idea, that’s the maddening thing. Only being one of the models on the catwalk was the last thing on my mind when I made the suggestion.’
It wasn’t so much the cavorting about in skimpy clothes on the catwalk she was dreading, although that was sure to be a bit nerve-wracking. No, it was the whole having to be nice to well-heeled sponsors side of the event she wasn’t looking forward to. It would be a forced return to a life she had chosen to leave behind five years ago, and she wasn’t relishing that one tiny little bit.
Though it was hardly very appropriate to be confiding in a prospective volunteer about it all. Emerging from the dark cloud of her reflections, Alexia realized Mark was still studying her carefully. Quickly she forced a smile to her face. ‘But hey, it’s in a good cause, isn’t it? If we can raise some extra funding, we’ll be able to fit this room out and finally start the computer training we’ve been promising people for months. Now, let’s go out into the gardens, shall we? Then we can have a talk about how you think you’d like to help.’
* * * * *
Alexia was clearly in her element in the gardens. She came to life as soon as they were outside, all that tension about the forthcoming fundraising event vaporising amongst the broccoli and cabbages.
Mark wasn’t finding the image that the receptionist had planted in his head of Alexia stripping off very easy to forget, but he did his best to concentrate on what she was saying to him. And the gardens were impressive. Unlike the computer suite, they were well established, with areas for vegetable and flower cultivation as well as glasshouses, potting sheds and training rooms. There were also fruit trees and a large grassy area. ‘That’s where students get to hone their grass-cutting skills,’ Alexia told him with a smile.
‘Do you sell your produce?’ Mark asked, trying to focus on finding out more about the Heath Centre and not on the way the sun was doing wonderful things to Alexia’s hair again.
‘Oh, yes,’ Alexia answered enthusiastically. Her eyes shone as she spoke, and she looked around at everything with pride.
Mark couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone with such zest for what they did. It was intoxicating, and extremely attractive.
‘It’s all part of our training here. We take our vegetables to local farmers’ markets. That way our clients gain valuable retail experience. There’s one tomorrow, actually. Today we’ll be getting everything ready for it.’
They were standing on a walkway between some raised flower beds, and when one of the centre users wanted to trundle past with a loaded-up wheel barrow, Alexia shifted and sucked in her breath to let him squeeze past. The movement drew attention to her breasts and the Gro-More emblem across them, and Mark felt his mouth go dry. As far as he could see, Alexia’s breasts most definitely didn’t need to grow more. They were quite perfect just as they were. Not, he reminded himself, that he was here to form an opinion of the Acting Centre Manager’s figure.
‘And do you make a profit from your sales?’ he asked, desperately trying to hold on to the hard-hitting side of himself, but when Alexia frowned slightly, he knew he had probably gone too far – not with his question, but the way he had asked it. For this week he was supposed to be a prospective volunteer, not the owner of one of Britain’s most successful haulage firms. It was difficult to remember that – especially when Alexia was playing havoc with his senses.
‘Sometimes, yes,’ Alexia said after a pause. ‘But of course, every penny gets ploughed back into our projects. Shall we go back inside? We need to fill out that application form.’
Alexia began to walk back towards the main building, and Mark followed her, enjoying the view of her long denim-encased legs and the natural wiggle of her behind. ‘And you say you’d like to start volunteering straight away?’
Alexia looked at him over her shoulder and caught him looking at her. Mark smiled, just as if he hadn’t been enjoying the swing of her hips. ‘Yes, please. If that’s possible?’
They had reached the door. Alexia put her hand out to open it, but Mark hurried round to get there first. ‘Allow me.’ For the very briefest of moments, their hands made contact. And Mark experienced a sizzling reaction right up his arm from it. Wow. What was that? Alexia looked at him, her green eyes huge, and Mark knew she’d felt it too. Then she turned quickly away.
‘Yes, I’m sure it is. We…we can use the computer suite to fill out the forms,’ she said, her voice sounding nervous. ‘We shouldn’t be disturbed in there. I’ll…I’ll just go and get them from the office, if you’d like to take a seat here for a moment?’
‘Thanks.’
While Alexia was gone, Mark sat down. He could still feel the sizzle on his hand from making contact with Alexia’s skin. That certainly hadn’t happened to him before. It had to have been static electricity from the UPVC door. What else could it be?
Unaware that he was doing it, Mark gently stroked his hand where it had made contact with Alexia’s skin and looked around the lobby area. It was clearly some considerable time since the centre had been decorated. The paintwork was shabby, as were the chairs in the seating area. But even so, there was a warm atmosphere about the place. The centre users seemed relaxed. They were chatting easily with each other as they got ready for their day’s training.
Would a place like this have made a difference to Jonathan if it had been available? Mark wondered. Probably not. His brother had been a high-flyer like Mark – an entrepreneur at the helm of several thriving businesses. And even though he had eventually sunk to the same depths that some of these guys were no doubt familiar with, Mark suspected it would have taken a lot more than catering or gardening training to reach him. More even than Alexia’s sparkle.
Jonathan. What a waste. What a criminal waste.
Feeling restless, Mark got up and crossed the room to look at some photos displayed on the wall. They were of Heath Centre trainees occupied with various work tasks – out in the gardens, at a market and in an office. All the people were smiling and seemingly content with their lot. Though presumably every one of them was a recovering alcoholic?
One photo in particular caught Mark’s attention. He moved in closer, his throat suddenly dry. The photo had been taken in the gardens – a group of trainees was harvesting sweet corn. It looked like a bumper crop, but it wasn’t this that interested Mark. It was a blurred figure in the background, turned away from the camera. The figure looked like Jonathan. But it couldn’t be, could it? Jonathan had never had any links to Nottingham – he’d lived in Sheffield, as Mark did. No, he was being ridiculous. The man didn’t even have the same colour hair as Jonathan.
Suddenly aware that he was shaking, Mark sat down in the nearest chair and breathed deeply, trying to get himself together. Alexia would be back any second, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to blow his cover before he’d even started. But would that even matter? Why was it so damn important to him to find exactly the right project to support anyway? He had enough money to support five0 projects if he wanted to. A ten0. And none of it would bring Jonathan back. His brother was gone forever.
* * * * *
‘Go get him, girl! If you don’t, I certainly will!’ Annoyed and flushed, Alexia closed the office door firmly against Julia’s unwanted encouragement. She was still feeling flustered after that strange electrical charge out in the garden when Mark had touched her hand. It didn’t mean anything of course, except perhaps that there was going to be a summer storm later on. Static electricity in the air, something like that. Nothing to do with attraction at all, definitely not. She was a professional, and she had a lot to do today. The sooner she got Mark Brown’s forms filled out the better.
Clutching the forms tightly in her hands, Alexia rounded a corner and promptly
slammed to a halt. She could see Mark sitting in the lobby where she’d left him, but he looked transformed – like a man who’d had the stuffing kicked right out of him. So totally bleak and dejected. Dejected, yes, that was it. His face was resting his face hands and there was dejection in every lean line of his body. Only minutes ago he had been alert and extremely interested in the work of the centre, eager to become a volunteer. What on earth had happened to him?
Had coming here brought back memories of demons? The despair and suffering that was the journey of a recovering alcoholic? Yes, that must be it.
Swamped by compassion, Alexia stood and just looked at him. The poor, poor man. Who knew what horrors he’d experienced – what he must have lost to still be suffering like this? But there was nothing she could do about it unless he decided to share his problems with her, and she sensed Mark wasn’t a man who shared his problems easily with anyone. Least of all someone he’d only just met.
Still, she should be grateful to have seen him like this. It was a stark reminder that he was off limits. She was going to be professional, professional, professional!
Beginning to walk again, Alexia fixed a bright smile on her face. ‘I’ve got the forms,’ she said. ‘Let’s get them completed, shall we? Then we can talk about where you see yourself fitting in at the centre.’
Mark looked up. For just a fraction of a second, a pool of naked vulnerability in those silver eyes reached out to her. Then it was quickly concealed and Mark sat up and regarded her steadily.
Alexia indicated the forms. ‘Shall we?’
* * * * *
He’d almost blown it there. Why hadn’t he anticipated how vividly his grief about Jonathan would hit him if he came to a place like this? This whole week was about purging his grief, and feeling that he was doing something, anything to help people with similar problems to his brother. When he’d tried to support charities before, he’d always felt as if he’d been presented with their best face as a potential supplier of much-needed cash. So when Charlotte had suggested that he pose as a volunteer for a week, it had seemed like a good idea. But now he saw that it had been naïve in the extreme not to realise how emotional he would feel.
Alexia was smiling quietly at him, her pen poised over the form. ‘Right, so surname Brown, forename Mark. Any middle names?’
He smiled back with an effort. ‘No, plain old Mark Brown.’
Alexia made no comment. She was, he thought, looking a little embarrassed. ‘All right, your age.’
‘Thirty-six.’ And Alexia was what? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight? Certainly no more than twenty-nine.
Alexia wrote down his age. ‘Right. Your address?’
As part of the plan to conceal his identity, Mark had asked Charlotte to rent him a house in a run-down area of the city. No expensive hotels for him this week. ‘Forty-four Lawson Street,’ he said, and was surprised when Alexia looked up, her face a picture of astonishment. ‘Lawson Street?’ she repeated. ‘You can’t have lived there very long.’
Mark looked at her cautiously. ‘No, I only moved in on Saturday actually. Why?’
Her face went slightly pink. It seemed to do that easily. Maybe it had something to do with her creamy fair skin. ‘Well, actually,’ she was saying, ‘I live nearby. I think I would…’ She stopped, and the pink on her cheeks grew a shade darker. ‘Well, I know most people in that area by sight.’
Mark smiled. He was quite sure they knew her too. ‘So we’re neighbours?’ he asked.
‘Almost,’ she said. Unflatteringly, she didn’t look too happy about the idea. And suddenly Mark realized he shouldn’t be too happy about it either. It was going to be difficult enough not to blow his cover as it was. How would he get on if he were running into Alexia left, right and centre at home too?
Chapter Three
Alexia’s gaze was firmly on the application form and Mark had no idea whether she felt as flustered as he did about the discovery that they were near neighbours.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘What work experience have you got?’
‘I’ve got an HGV licence,’ Mark told her. ‘I was a lorry driver for several years.’ Well, it was true. Alexia didn’t need to know that it was very long time ago. ‘And I’ve been involved in some home renovation, things like that.’
Alexia was twiddling one of her long auburn curls as she listened to him. He suspected she had no idea she was doing it, but for some reason it was incredibly sexy. Suddenly, he remembered that she was in charge of the gardens here. ‘And I’ve got some gardening experience,’ he continued. ‘Quite a lot really.’
Alexia stopped twiddling the curl and put a hand up to sweep her hair back from her face. Her smile lit the room. ‘Well, that’s certainly useful,’ she said. ‘Would you be interested in volunteering in the gardens?’
With you nearby the whole time? You bet. Mark smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’d like that very much.’
‘Good,’ she said, then looked down at the form again. ‘Right, that’s almost it. I’ll just need the name of someone who can provide a reference for you.’
Mark gave Charlotte’s name and address.
‘And her relationship to you?’ Alexia asked.
‘She’s a friend of the family,’ Mark said.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Right then, we’re all done. Are you happy just to muck in with everybody today?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s fine.’
‘Great, let’s go outside then. You can help Bert dig up some potatoes ready for tomorrow’s market.’
Ten minutes later, Mark was equipped with a garden fork and standing on the dry earth amongst the potato crop. Bert was working silently next to him.
Then Mark’s phone began to ring. Without thinking, Mark reached for it, taking it out of his pocket. Too late, he remembered that his state-of-the-art phone was not the type a humble volunteer hoping to gain experience to help him find employment was likely to own. He should have bought himself a cheap pay as you go mobile before he came here. Or better still, left his phone at home. Quickly he rejected the call and put the phone back in his pocket. Then he drove his fork into the earth.
‘You want to be further away from the plant,’ Burt told him curtly. ‘You’ll put your fork through the potatoes.’
Mark bit back an instinctive annoyance at being told what to do. ‘Quite right,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’ He moved his fork and began again, aware of Bert’s watchful gaze. The man clearly didn’t like him. Or maybe he just didn’t like anyone. ‘It’s been ages since we’ve had any rain, isn’t it?’ he said to make conversation. ‘The ground’s quite hard.’
‘If the work’s too difficult for you, have a word with Alexia,’ Bert told him straight away. ‘I’m sure she’s got something lighter you can do.’
The man definitely didn’t like him! ‘No, I’m quite all right thanks, Bert,’ he said, carefully lifting some potatoes with the fork, and reaching down to pull them free with his hands. ‘These potatoes look great,’ he said. ‘It’s a good crop.’
When Bert didn’t reply, they worked on in silence. Over on the other side of the vegetable garden, Alexia’s laugh suddenly rang out. Mark looked over. She was holding up a huge carrot. ‘This one’s definitely a prize-winner!’ he could hear her saying to the men working nearby.
Mark found himself smiling once again at her enthusiasm. ‘Is she a good teacher?’ he asked Bert.
Bert looked over at Alexia, his expression softening very slightly. ‘Her and Laura are what this place is all about,’ he said.
Mark felt both moved and encouraged. ‘And do you hope to get a job in horticulture after this, Bert?’ he asked, thrusting his fork into the dry earth again. Uh-oh, he’d definitely speared something.
Bert was watching as Mark pulled his fork and the ruined potato out of the ground. ‘You ask too many questions,’ he said. ‘You’ll get on much better if you just concentrate on what you’re doing.’
Which put him firmly in his place.
Al
exia was laughing again. When Mark looked over, he saw she had two giant carrots now – one in each hand. Seeing Mark looking, she held them aloft.
‘Twins!’ Mark called, and as she laughed, he knew her face would be slightly pink, even though she was just a bit too far away for him to see.
Now Bert was really scowling at him, and Mark stopped smiling. ‘Bert, have I done anything to offend you?’ he asked. ‘You seem to have made up your mind to dislike me.’
Bert didn’t look up from his potatoes. ‘Don’t trust you, is all,’ he said. ‘Something about you.’
‘You’ve only known me five minutes,’ Mark protested.
‘Sometimes that’s all it takes,’ Bert said.
‘Is there a problem?’ Suddenly Alexia was there, all the amusement about the carrots gone from her face as she looked at them, clearly sensing the atmosphere.
‘Ask Bert,’ Mark said bluntly. ‘He seems to be the one with the problem.’
But Bert remained silent, bending over his work.
‘Could I have a quick word with you, Mark?’ Alexia asked.
Mark thrust his fork angrily into the earth. ‘Of course.’
Alexia led the way to the potting shed. Mark followed and had to bend his head to get through the potting shed door.
Inside, there was silence for a moment. The potting shed was cramped, with workbenches on either side for dealing with seedlings. The whole place was suffused with the smell of damp earth. A shaft of sunlight was coming in through the plastic window, painting Alexia’s lovely skin a rich gold. Mark was filled with a compulsion to reach out a hand to touch the soft bloom of her cheek.
Alexia licked her lips. ‘Look, Mark,’ she said at last. Her voice was soft. Even though Mark knew it was just to keep their conversation private, the husky tone was intimate as hell. ‘I don’t know what was going on out there, but please, if you’re going to volunteer here, then you’ll need to be… well a little more tactful.’
Mark opened his mouth to speak. Alexia put up a hand to stop him. The hand was very dirty from digging up carrots. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re a little blunt at times, and a little too direct with your questions.’
Secret Millionaire Page 2