by Fiona Harper
‘Sorry! Did I hurt you?’
‘Um…no, it’s okay.’
She gently pulled downwards, helping to open his eye. ‘It looks a bit pink. Is it still stinging? Try blinking a few more times.’
‘It’s fading now, thank you, Nurse. How did you know what to do?’
She blushed. ‘You think with a memory like mine that I haven’t done this to myself a million times?’
Mark’s laugh was deep and throaty. He blinked a few more times, opened his good eye, then attempted to do the same with the other, but it stayed stubbornly at half-mast.
Ellie’s partial smile evaporated as she became conscious of the warmth radiating from him. They were practically nose to nose. He was sitting on the stool, one long leg braced against the floor, the other hooked on the bottom rung. She was standing between his legs, only inches from his chest. She knew she should move. Mark was looking back at her through bleary eyes. She picked a spot on the floor between her feet and stared at it.
‘You’re lucky,’ she said, succeeding in inching backwards slightly.
Try not to look at him.
‘You only touched the chilli briefly. It would have been much worse if you’d been chopping them…’
Mark caught her hand as she attempted to shuffle back further. She made the mistake of looking up. A soft, tender look was in his eyes, despite the fact that one eyeball was still pink and watery.
‘Thank you, Ellie.’ The sincerity in his tone was making her feel all quivery.
She managed to shift her gaze to her hand, still covered by his. Static electricity lifted the hairs on her arm.
‘That’s—that’s all right,’ she stammered. Her hand jerked from his as she shook herself loose. She turned and headed for the door. ‘I’ll go and have that shower now, then,’ she added.
Perhaps a cold one.
She started to scuttle off down the passageway.
‘Ellie…?’ he called after her, a laugh underscoring his words.
The urge to keep going was powerful, but she turned and popped her head back through the open door. ‘Yes?’
Mark was grinning at her. She had the sudden sinking feeling she didn’t want to know why.
‘I was going to have a shower, remember? You were cooking.’
Ellie closed her eyes gently and darted a moist tongue over her bottom lip, trying to work out how to salvage the situation. She looked at Mark with her best matter-of-fact expression. ‘Of course.’
For some reason he looked very pleased with himself. He wasn’t going to tease her about this for months to come, was he? What if he guessed it was him who had got her all in a fluster?
Once her cotton wool legs had taken her back to the chopping board she set about peeling the garlic, trying to block Mark’s view of her shaking hands with her body. She heard the scrape of his stool across the floor as he rose from his seat. Every part of her body strained to hear his movements as he left the room. She stripped the skin off a clove of garlic, leaving it vulnerable and naked, and listened to Mark whistling something chirpy as he bounded up the stairs at least two at a time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘MARK!’
His head snapped up. Nicole, his PA, stood with hands on hips, a buff folder clutched in one hand, scowling hard. This wasn’t good news.
‘Huh?’
‘What is wrong with you this morning? That has to be the fifth time I’ve caught you admiring the London skyline while ignoring every word I say. You’re making me feel like my old maths teacher, Mrs McGill.’
Mark stopped staring through the glass wall of his office and turned to face Nicole fully. She was right. He hadn’t been paying attention. But now that he was she still wasn’t making any sense.
‘What?’
‘She was always throwing chalk at Billy Thomas for staring out the window during double algebra. I mean it, Mark! If you make me sound like Mrs McGill I’m going to do something drastic.’
He hunched over his desk and scribbled feverishly away on the pad in front of him. Nicole flopped into the chair on the other side of the desk and massaged her temple with her free hand.
‘What are you doing now? I’m feeling too grotty for your stupid games.’
When he had scrawled a handful of lines, he ripped the sheet off and thrust it in Nicole’s direction. She snatched it from his hand and started to read it out loud.
‘“I will not daydream in Mrs McGill’s class. I will not daydream in—” Very funny!’
He easily dodged her missile as she crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it back at him. He did the puppy-dog thing with his eyes he knew she could never resist.
‘Sorry, Miss.’
‘You’d better be! You were saying something about pushing the record company for a three-sixty-degree contract for the new band’s next deal, and then you just drifted off.’
‘Sorry, Nic. I promise I’m listening now.’
He rested his elbows on the desk and propped his chin on his fists, deliberately focusing on her and only her.
‘And I need to know what you want to do about this video shoot. We’ve only got five days before we leave for the Caribbean, and Kat’s in a state because Razor went AWOL. The director has changed his mind about one of the locations, and the stylist has had a strop and isn’t taking any of my calls.’
Mark did his best to listen as Nicole continued to brief him on the latest string of disasters to hit the upcoming shoot. It had been a nightmare from start to finish. He was starting to wish they’d opted for the other treatment, which had involved lots of time on a soggy moor in Scotland. When they’d set it up he’d been looking forward to going to Antigua. He’d planned on taking a few days off after the shoot—the closest thing to a holiday he was going to get this year.
But now the date was looming close he was starting to wish he could wriggle out of it. He didn’t want to leave Larkford. A week on the other side of the planet would be a week away from Ellie. Coming into London was different. He was away for the day, but in the evening he would be stranded on the M25 in the rush-hour traffic with a smile on his face, knowing he was on the way home.
Home. Ellie had made his house a home. He loved arriving back there and seeing a warm glow in the windows instead of faceless black. He would park his car, walk through the door and find Ellie pottering in the kitchen, cooking up something fabulous.
He had started to fantasise that she was there waiting for him, not because he paid her to, but because she wanted to be.
She worked so hard. Now he’d read up on brain injuries he understood how difficult it must be for her. And she never seemed to want a day off to go home. Perhaps there were too many memories waiting for her there. But it would be good if he could get her to relax now she had the household running like clockwork. He’d even cover the cost of a holiday if he thought she’d accept it from him. He almost felt guilty for jetting off to the Caribbean and leaving her behind.
Maybe there was something he could do about that…
Nicole slapped her folder down so hard that the papers on Mark’s desk lifted in the resultant breeze.
‘If you’re not going to listen, I’m going for a girlie chat with Emma at the end of the hall!’
He was only partially aware of the slam of the door and the meant-to-be-heard muttering as she click-clacked out of the office and down the hallway. He swung his chair round again and continued studying the busy city below. The Thames glinted between the mixture of glass office blocks and the pollution-stained masonry of older buildings.
The last few weeks had been both heaven and hell.
The prickly, reclusive Ellie who had arrived at Larkford in the spring was only a memory. The Ellie he returned to each night was warm and caring and funny. Clever and resourceful. He loved hanging around the kitchen watching her cook, savouring each bite of the meal and making it last as long as possible to prolong his time in her company. He always felt a little deflated when the coffee cups were cleared away
and the mechanical whooshing of the dishwasher was the only sound in the kitchen.
She was still a little shy, but it added to her charm. He loved the way she was totally original—one of a kind.
Mark stood up. The afternoon sun was bouncing off the windows of the other office blocks, giving the whole city a warm yellow glow. He took a moment to process the revelation that had just hit him smack between the eyes.
He loved her.
His stomach lurched as he recognised his own vulnerability. Whether she knew it or not, that fragile woman had tremendous power over him.
But he didn’t want to push her, even if he guessed she might be feeling at least some of what he was feeling. He watched a jet puff out its white trail in the clear blue sky, the plane so high up it was only a silver speck in the air. Part of him exulted at the knowledge that she found him attractive, that he put her off-balance, but another part of him ached with the uncertainty of any deeper feelings on her part.
‘I need a sign!’ he whispered, waiting for something to happen.
But the plane kept on its course, its trail a no-nonsense line. No writing appeared in the sky saying Go for it. He scanned the horizon for a hint of divine thunderbolts, but the pale clouds refused to comment.
He continued to ponder his position as he sat behind a truck on the M25 later that evening. The crawling traffic gave him plenty of time for self-analysis. He sat for many minutes trying to predict the outcome of any romantic entanglement with Ellie and decided that prophecy was not his thing. It didn’t matter, anyway. Whether she loved him back or not wouldn’t change how he felt about her. He would just have to be patient. Wait in this horrible limbo until a sign appeared.
Butterflies wrestled in his belly as he turned the car into his driveway. His pulse quickened as he jumped from the car and bounded up the steps to the front door. As he put the key in the lock a mouthwatering aroma assaulted his nostrils. He followed the trail into the kitchen. Ellie bobbed up from behind the kitchen counter, causing his already racing heart to skip a beat.
‘That was good timing! I was just about to dish up. You’re much later than you said.’
‘Traffic jam,’ he said absently, his eyes following her every move. She reached to get a couple of plates from the cupboard and passed them to him.
‘Your PA called about an hour ago.’
Ah. He’d forgotten all about Nic, and had left the office without telling her.
‘She said she will not be coming back into work until you ring and tell her she is no longer Mrs McGill—whatever that means!’ said Ellie, searching for the oven gloves and finding them in the dishwasher.
Mark reckoned an apologetic lunch somewhere nice would probably help. And maybe a big bunch of flowers. Nicole’s bark was worse than her bite, and he didn’t know what he would do without her. His stomach complained noisily, returning him to the present.
‘What’s for dinner?’
Ellie opened the oven door and stood back from the blast of hot air before she reached inside to remove a scalding-hot earthenware dish. She looked very pink as she stood straight. If it wasn’t for the heat from the oven, he could have sworn she was blushing.
‘Shepherd’s Pie.’
Mark almost dropped the plates he was holding.
‘Thank you,’ he mouthed to the ceiling, before following her to the table.
Ellie was in the chemist’s in the village, picking up some supplies, when her mobile rang. The caller ID told her it was Mark, and she took a steadying breath before she punched the button to answer.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. Are you busy?’
Ellie looked at the tube of toothpaste, a box of plasters and the hand soap in her shopping basket. ‘I’m in the village shopping, but I’ll be finished in a few minutes. Do you want me to come straight back?’
‘Yes. I’ve got a bit of an emergency on my hands.’
And, without explaining anything further, he rang off. Ellie stared at the phone. Very mysterious. She quickly paid for the items in her basket and hurried back along the lane to Larkford Place, cutting through the gardens to make her journey quicker.
When she reached the back door and entered the kitchen she found it all quiet. Guessing Mark must be in his study, she dumped her shopping bag on the counter, prised off her trainers and socks—it was too hot for shoes—and headed off to find him.
He was sitting behind his desk listening to someone on the other end of the phone when she poked her head round the half-open door. She coughed gently and he motioned for her to come in and sit down, still listening to whoever it was on the line.
She sat in the small but rather comfortable leather chair on the opposite side of the desk and waited, noticing as she did so that the colour of her painted toenails clashed with the rug. He finished the call without saying much but ‘mmm-hmm’ and ‘bye’, and replaced the phone carefully in its cradle before looking at her.
‘I have an idea to run past you. I hope you don’t mind?’
Ellie shook her head. Although she was a bit puzzled as to why Mark would want her help with what was obviously a business problem.
‘I’m due to fly to Antigua at the end of the week and my PA, vital to keeping me organised during what is likely to be a chaotic few days, has come down with the flu. I need someone to fill in for her.’
Ellie studied her toenails again. Tangerine really didn’t go with the aubergine shapes on the abstract rug.
‘Can’t someone from the office fill in?’
‘Difficult. The whole place is in turmoil with a newly signed band. Their first single is out this week and it’s all hands on deck. Anyone who isn’t already with a client is involved in that. I did have two people in mind, but one is on holiday and the other is pregnant and throwing up every ten minutes. I seem to have run out of employees to commandeer.’
Ellie smiled at that. Nobody to boss around? What a hardship.
When she looked up, a wolfish grin was on his lips.
‘Well, almost run out of employees…’ he added.
She didn’t like the look of that smile. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood, lost in the woods. Mark’s eyeballs didn’t move a millimetre as he stared straight at her. Ellie began to shake her head.
No way! Don’t you even think it!
He nodded in slow motion as her ringlets bounced from side to side. Without warning he sprang from his side of the desk and bounded towards her. He crouched in front of her and tugged her hands into his.
‘I have got one employee who could help me out.’
Her heartbeat accelerated. It was difficult to think whilst looking into those bottomless brown eyes.
‘Come on, Ellie. I know you can do this. Charlie told me about how you used to be a PA.’
Ellie tried to stammer no, but her mouth refused to cooperate. His eyes looked like a spaniel’s. She’d bet this was the puppy-dog thing Charlie had warned her about. It would be like stamping on a poor abandoned animal if she refused. And it would be to help Mark out of a tight spot. She couldn’t really do this, could she?
Mark pressed on while he had the advantage.
‘Look at the way you run the house. You’re quick to pick things up, and you’ve got bags of initiative. Even with all your challenges you seem to handle any unexpected thing I throw at you. I know this is a different ball game, but I have confidence in you. Please!’
Ellie grabbed the lifeline he had thrown at her. ‘The house!’ she blurted out.
Mark frowned. ‘What house?’
‘This one! We can’t leave it unattended. Who’s going to look after it?’ She let out a relieved sigh and relaxed into the padded leather chair, feeling oddly deflated at her own success.
‘Mrs Timms could manage for a few days. I’ve asked her already and she said her daughter would be able to help her out.’
Ellie sat, mouth open, trying to find another valid objection. She’d only just got used to Larkford. To go somewhere else, somewhere comp
letely foreign—literally—and do work she wasn’t used to doing. Well, the idea was just plain terrifying. And she hadn’t even factored in how difficult it would be to spend days upon end in a tropical paradise working even more closely with Mark.
He was smiling at her, his voice low and rich. Ellie could feel herself slipping. ‘Mrs Timms used to work here before you started. Mind you, she wasn’t nearly as good—or pretty.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘And she smelled of peppermints and disinfectant—’
‘Mark!’
‘I know. Not important.’
He took hold of her hands again, eyes pleading. ‘It’s only for a few days. I just need someone to handle the red tape while I look after fragile egos and deal with hissy fits—and that’s just the tea lady I’m talking about.’
Ellie couldn’t help laughing. She suspected he could persuade her that black was white if he put his mind to it.
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I will think about it.’
‘Basket case!’
Ellie mumbled to herself as she watched the planes taxiing back and forth in the evening haze, her nose pressed hard against the plate-glass wall of Heathrow’s first class lounge. The sunset was tarnished by the pollution of the busy airport.
What an idiot to think she could do this.
She turned, leaning back on the cold window to survey her fellow travellers sprawled over the comfy sofas on the far side of the lounge. Mark was chatting to Kat and the other members of her entourage. He looked completely at ease. In fact he’d been looking pretty darn pleased with himself since she’d told him she would fill in for his sick PA at breakfast this morning.
Ellie sighed and banged the back of her head lightly against the glass. She’d made a valiant attempt to say no to Mark’s offer, but she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to turn him down.
Of course her decision had everything to do with a free trip to Antigua, and nothing at all to do with spending the next few days with Mark instead of rattling round Larkford Place on her own. At least that was what she’d thought this morning. Somehow the universe had done a one-eighty between then and now. The fantasy of jetting off to a palm tree filled island in a sarong and flip-flops had fallen flat once they had arrived at the airport. Well, slightly before that, Ellie admitted, looking down at her un-flip-flopped feet and sarong-less legs.