Читать книгу Best of Fiona Harper - Фиона Харпер - Страница 44

‘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 completely 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.

She hadn’t realised they were going to be travelling with Kat and her ‘people’. Immediately she’d gone into tortoise mode, feeling she had nothing much in common with the assorted bunch of strangers. Kat seemed nice—very young, and much shorter than she’d expected.

She studied the other members of the entourage. There was a tall, burly guy with a pair of shades who she presumed was a bodyguard or something. The girl with the funky white-blonde hair had to be a make-up artist or hairdresser. But she couldn’t even guess what the others did. The woman in the lurid boob tube could be Kat’s personal grape-peeler for all she knew.

The young guy with the pierced nose finished telling a funny story and the whole group erupted into laughter. Ellie’s eyes followed Mark’s every move as he grinned away, pleased with the reaction. The funky-haired woman put a pressureless hand on his arm as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Ellie frowned and turned back to face the anonymous jets parading round the runway. Her forehead met the cool glass with a delicate thud.

Basket case.

At thirty-five-thousand feet she was still wondering what she was doing with these people. Sure, she’d been on aeroplanes before, but it had been rubber food, cramped leg room and fighting about who had the armrest. Not this. Not champagne and seats you could fit a small family into. It all seemed so foreign—yet it shouldn’t. Nobody else seemed to be pining for garish seat covers and lager louts singing football songs.

She felt like an impostor. Any minute now people would start pointing and staring, and she’d be dragged back to Economy, where she belonged. This wasn’t her world. What a huge mistake to think she could slide in here with Mark and find it a perfect fit.

However, the outsize chair was definitely comfy, and she sank into it, her eyelids closing of their own accord.

The next thing she was aware of was something brushing her cheek, something soft and slightly moist. She swatted it away without opening her eyes.

‘Ow!’

She pulled her eyelids apart with enough force to unstick her eyelashes and squinted at the fuzzy shape in front of her. As it came into focus she realised it was Mark, and his lips were slightly pursed.

‘Why are you holding your nose like that?’ she asked, shifting in her seat to get a better look.

‘I was trying to wake you up when you walloped me.’

‘I didn’t wallop. I swatted. There’s a difference.’ She rubbed the spot on her cheek that was still tickling her. ‘And how did I end up hitting you on the nose? What were you doing that close?’

In the semi-dark of the cabin she could have sworn his face turned a shade pinker.

‘I was just…Never mind what I was doing! I was waking you up because the pilot just announced we’d be landing in half an hour. I thought you’d want to get yourself together.’

She stretched her arms past her head, yawned and looked out of the window. It was so dark out there they could have been flying through a black hole.

‘What time is it?’

‘Our time or local time?’

‘Whichever.’

‘Well, it’s just after midnight local time. At least we get a few extra hours to catch up on sleep.’

Ellie made a face. ‘I think I could do with a whole week!’

He smiled, and she forgot to be grumpy.

‘You know, you look very cute when you’ve just woken up,’ he said.

Ellie snorted, then pulled a mirror out of her bag and inspected the damage. Just as she’d thought. All her mascara had migrated into a gloopy lump in one corner of her eye. Very cute.

‘You need glasses, then,’ she said as she threw the mirror onto her lap and searched for a tissue in a bag pocket.

‘Here—let me.’

Before she could refuse he’d whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket with a flourish and tipped her chin towards him with his other hand. He leaned so close all the hairs behind her ears stood on end. She did her absolute best not to look too pathetic as he gently dabbed her eye. Somehow, with him taking care of her like this, she didn’t feel so lost.

That incident set the tone for the rest of the journey. When she hauled her cases off the carousel at baggage reclaim Mark was there with a trolley before she even blinked. He shepherded her into one of the cars that appeared like magic out at the front of the terminal and saw her settled at the hotel.

It had been so long since she’d felt like this. Safe. Taken care of. Not struggling to do everything by herself. It was very tempting to give in and forget they’d be home in a few days. And that, technically, she was being paid to look after him.

Ellie shivered as yet another spider scuttled across her foot. The first time one had crawled over her today she’d almost freaked out. Big time. But the cameras were rolling, filming at the first location for Kat’s video, and she hadn’t wanted to sprint round the set like a lunatic in front of the crew.

Or re-live the incident when they watched the rushes at the end of the day.

Or feature in some TV out-takes compilation next Christmas.

So, although she felt as if she’d imploded with the effort, she stifled the screams, put on a stoic face and stood her ground.

She sighed and ran her fingers through the damp curls sticking to her forehead. The whole crew was packed into a tight knot at the end of an idyllic bay where the narrow beach met the rocks. Ellie was hiding out in the jungle-like greenery that fringed the white-hot sand. Hence the spiders. She’d thought she’d do anything to escape something with eight legs, but the need for shade and even a few degrees less heat had overruled her natural instincts. It was only after they’d arrived at the hotel that Mark had explained that summer could be hot and horribly humid on the island. Most of the tourists came in the winter months.

Kat was knee-deep in water, singing along to the track that was due to be her next single. The surf behind her looked mighty inviting. Ellie was fantasising about diving into the sea, acting like a fish and hoping nobody would notice. Nice dream, but in reality she was stuck under the nearest palm tree, wilting, while everybody else did something vastly important.

The heat was making her clothes stick to her skin. Even her skin was sticking to her skin. She longed for the air-conditioned haven of the hotel. Typical of many resorts on the island, the elegant low-rise main building was surrounded by lush tropical gardens and luxurious cabins. She wanted to be doing jobs she knew how to do: faxing things, shredding things. An evil glint flickered in her eyes. She wanted to be stapling things—preferably to Mark’s head.

No, that wasn’t fair. It was her own fault she hadn’t found out what she was letting herself in for. It was the jet lag making her tetchy. And she’d never been on friendly terms with this kind of heat. It made her hair frizz.

The director stood up and bellowed, ‘Cut!’

The music died instantly, but Ellie knew the song so well by now that it kept playing inside her skull, pounding against her temples.

The director barked instructions to anyone within earshot.

‘Baz, zoom out a little so I can see the sand. Jerry, check that last take to see if the light is still okay. Kat, my darling, could you just move to that rock on your left?’ Kat waded obligingly to the rock and took up her position. ‘That’s it. Can you put one foot on top of it? Good.’

Ellie admired her stamina. They’d all been standing on this beach for most of the day. She’d have dived in and floated away hours ago if it she’d been in Kat’s shoes. She massaged her forehead and listened to the pounding of the surf. She’d expected a little time to collect herself after they’d arrived, but it had been straight to work. No lounging by the pool under a yellow umbrella. No sipping coconut-flavoured cocktails in a hammock. Time really was money when video cameras were involved, it seemed.

‘Playback!’

The director’s yell was like a crack from a shotgun. Birds scattered from the treetops in terror. Ellie checked her clipboard. All her tasks were done. There was nothing left to do but drift over towards the director and watch Kat’s progress on one of the boxy little monitors.

The minute hand on her watch dragged itself listlessly through the next few hours and the sun began to set. They moved position a few times, and each move meant ages of checking the lighting, setting up cameras and other kit. Then Kat would have to sing her song another thousand times, this time in close-up, this time on a long-shot. See? She was even starting to learn the lingo.

Just as the sun had finally set, and Ellie was about to scream with the monotony of it all, Mark suddenly waded into the sea and scooped Kat into his arms.

‘Cut!’ the director bellowed, impotent with fury.

Ellie could only imagine the myriad expletives scalding the tip of his tongue. He spluttered, searching for the right word to unlock the torrent. Ellie turned quickly to face the trees and hid a smile. The prima donna on this set was definitely not the singer!

Mark said nothing as he carried Kat out of the water, but his eyes were blazing a warning as clear as if he’d shouted it. The director swallowed his rant. Mark unhooked his arm from under Kat’s knees and let her bare feet touch the ground in one controlled motion.

‘That’s a wrap for today, everybody,’ he said.

His voice was calm, but everyone from the director to the runners knew that negotiations were useless. The generator coughed to a halt. No one moved.

Ellie broke the tense silence with a scurry of movement. She tugged a fluffy towel out of the bag of provisions she’d hauled along with her and slung it over Kat’s shoulders. All that time standing in the water! The poor girl must be prune-like on the bottom half and baked on the top half. She glanced at Mark, and flushed as she saw the flicker of approval in his eyes.

Kat whispered her thanks as they headed to the speed boats that had brought them on the short trip round the coast into the small crescent-shaped bay. It had been chosen because they were practically guaranteed an uninterrupted shoot, with no onlookers or journalists to deal with as it was inaccessible by road.

Mark and Kat headed for the smallest boat, followed closely by Rufus, Kat’s bodyguard—or personal protection officer, as he preferred to be called. Ellie trailed along behind, still feeling like a spare part. The rest of the crew concentrated on unplugging and packing the expensive technical thing-ummy-jigs in foam-padded metal cases. They would follow on shortly, in the larger two boats.

They arrived back at the small marina in the neighbouring bay and made their way to the cluster of anonymous black people-carriers that were waiting for them in the car park. Mark pulled Ellie back to let Kat and Rufus walk ahead.

‘I’m going to wait here for our illustrious director and give him a piece of my mind. If he plans to roast Kat alive in the midday sun tomorrow he’s going to have to think again.’

‘You act more like her big brother than her manager.’

Mark frowned a little. ‘Babysitting the star is part of my job description. On the business side, I wouldn’t be doing my job if Kat couldn’t finish the shoot.’ His matter-of-fact manner softened. ‘But you’re right. I do feel protective towards her. It’s easy to forget she’s only seventeen and all her friends are still at school.’

He shielded his eyes with a hand and looked up the walkway after Kat as she slid the back door of the people-carrier open and climbed inside. ‘She’s a great kid. If she can get through the next couple of years without self-destructing she’ll have a long and successful career.’ He looked Ellie straight in the eye. ‘It would be such a waste if she burns out.’

The compassion in his eyes made something inside her feel very gooey indeed. She’d thought Work Mark would be different—harder, more remote. If it were possible, he was even nicer than Home Mark.

He turned away, stuffed his hands in his pockets and scoured the headland for a hint of the other boats.

‘She’s had a tough time recently,’ he said, and turned back towards her. ‘Will you look after her for me while I wait here?’

Ellie rubbed his arm lightly and nodded.

The clouds in Mark’s expression were banished by a smile. He planted a feather-soft kiss on the tip of her nose and walked down the pontoons to wait by the empty berths.

That kiss was the cherry on top of the weird feelings she’d been having since they’d arrived in Antigua less than twenty-four hours ago. It was as if she was in a parallel universe where, even though she was working for Mark, the ‘employer’ and ‘employee’ labels they’d stuck on themselves had peeled off in the heat, leaving only a man and a woman who were really, really attracted to each other.