The phone rang, and Julia answered it, with a final smile for her boss. ‘The Heath Centre, this is Julia speaking. How may I help you?’
Laura caught Alexia’s gaze over little Lily’s head and raised her eyebrows. Then she jerked her head in a ‘follow me’ gesture towards the door.
‘Well?’ she said to Alexia, when they were out in the corridor.
Lily had her hand tangled in Alexia’s hair and was doing her very best to give it a good yank. ‘Hey,’ Alexia smiled at her. ‘Don’t you gang up against me as well!’ It was impossible to stay strung up in the face of the baby’s gorgeousness. It was only a pity that the relaxing effects were only going to last while baby Lily was actually there.
‘Who’s ganging up against you?’ Laura asked quickly, and Alexia sighed.
‘Nobody,’ she said. ‘It just hasn’t been an easy week, that’s all. I didn’t need to walk in on that just now. And it’s the wretched fundraiser tomorrow! Listen, if I say I’ll come and look after Lily, will you take my place?’
Laura looked at her sharply. ‘And the other two?’
Alexia felt a flicker of hope. ‘Of course. All the children. Dave too. I’ll cook for them all, bathe them, put them to bed. What ever you want.’
‘Dave generally showers in the morning,’ Laura joked.
‘Ha, ha, very funny,’ Alexia said. ‘Anyway, what about it?’
Laura shook her head. ‘You haven’t got a hope in hell of persuading me up onto that catwalk. Not when I’ve still got my baby fat. Now, I think you’d better introduce me to this volunteer, don’t you?’ And off she marched, leaving Alexia to follow on behind with Lily.
Mark was over by the green house, digging up lettuces with a couple of the centre users.
‘Wow!’ said Laura under her breath. ‘I don’t need to ask if that’s him.’ She brushed her hair back from her face, smoothed down her skirt and stood up straight, sucking her tummy in. ‘I’ll go over an introduce myself, I think. You don’t mind looking after Lily for ten minutes, do you?’ And, without waiting for an answer, she strode off across the grass.
Alexia watched her go ruefully – another female smitten by Mark Brown. Smitten. Was she smitten? Yes, absolutely. Alexia closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh. Then she felt a small hand tugging at her eyelashes, attempting to pull her eyes open again. She laughed out loud. ‘You’re right, sweetheart,’ she laughed. ‘It isn’t bedtime yet, is it?’ And, bending down, she tickled the delighted girl with her eyelashes. When she looked up again, still grinning broadly, she saw that Laura had almost reached her quarry. But Mark seemed oblivious. He wasn’t looking at Laura at all. In fact, he didn’t seem to have noticed her welcoming smile and outstretched hand. He was looking, instead, at Alexia.
Suddenly aware she hadn’t got his attention, Laura glanced over her shoulder to see what he was looking at. And, although her friend was too far away now for Alexia to see every detail of her expression, she knew exactly what it would be like. Intrigued. Knowing. With well, well, well written all over it.
‘Come on, honey bun,’ she said to her goddaughter, hiding her hot face in the little girl’s delectable softness again. ‘Let’s go and supervise some mulching.’
Although she kept her back turned, Alexia still somehow knew when Laura and Mark left the garden to go inside the centre. The garden felt different somehow, with Mark gone. Foolish, foolish woman. The sun just went in, that’s all. Yes, exactly.
Finally, Mark and Laura came out again, and Laura came over to collect Lily. ‘I better get off now,’ she said. ‘See you next week, guys!’ Then she looked at Alexia. ‘See me out?’ she said.
Stifling a sigh, Alexia followed.
‘Julia was right. He is gorgeous!’ Laura exclaimed in a hiss.
‘So, what about her indiscretion?’
Laura waved a hand. ‘That won’t happen again. He assured me he’s not interested. You know what Julia’s like – she had to have a try. Mark’s here because he wants to be useful, and that doesn’t include satisfying Julia’s sex drive. I was very impressed, actually. And not just by his looks and charm. He’s really interested in the work we do here. He was asking me a lot of questions about what happens to people after they leave. I think he really cares about people. I like him.’
They were back inside the centre now. Laura stopped by the exit, with one hand on the door handle and Lily on her hip. They both looked at her with identical deep brown eyes. ‘That’s why I asked him to help you out at the fund raiser,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘I’m sure he’ll be very useful.’
Chapter Eight
At six o’clock the next evening Alexia was standing with Jenny, a woman from a young persons’ children’s charity surveying preparations for the fashion show. The doors were due to open in an hour, and the catwalk was in place, the lights had been adjusted and the seats were all put out. The band that was to provide the music for both the fashion show and the dance were just setting up in the corner, the models were all back stage having their hair and make up done, and their outfits were all on hangers ready to be put on. Everything that had to be done had been done.
She hoped.
‘That volunteer of yours was a real find,’ Mary told Alexia. ‘I don’t know how we’d have managed to get everything ready without him.’
‘Yes,’ Alexia agreed. ‘He was useful, wasn’t he?’
Jenny shot her a wicked smile. ‘Hot too. I hope he bids for me in the auction.’
Alexia smiled. The organising committee had had the brilliant idea of auctioning off the models for a dance after the fashion show. Hopefully it would be a great way to make a bit of extra money, though she didn’t expect Mark to be doing any bidding.
‘I don’t think Mark’s very well off,’ Alexia warned Jenny, squashing the ridiculous pang of jealousy at just the thought of Mark with anyone else in his arms.
Jenny giggled. ‘Then I’ll just have to give him a dance for free,’ she said. ‘Come on, we’d better go and get made over.’
Sitting in the hairdresser’s chair having her hair put up, Alexia had plenty of time to remember Mark’s muscles rippling as he shifted stage blocks to make a catwalk and set out the chairs. He had also helped to display the raffle prizes and made sandwiches, as well as charming the predominantly female charity workers. Now he’d gone home to change. The head of the organising committee had invited him along to the fashion show as a thank you, and Mark had accepted the invitation with what seemed like genuine pleasure.
Which meant he would be sitting in the audience when she walked along the catwalk dressed in a bikini. Why had it seemed a good idea in November, when they’d first started planning this event, to choose a theme of holiday wear for the fashion show? Winter wear would have been a much better idea, preferably long coats that buttoned from neck to hem and showed very little flesh.
Alexia sighed, trying vainly to relax as the hairdresser teased and pinned her hair into place. It wasn’t that Alexia was worried about her body – gardening and salsa dancing kept her fit. But she just knew she was going to feel self-conscious with Mark looking at her. Beyond a smile of greeting and instructions and questions about the work to be done, they hadn’t spoken all day. At lunchtime, Mark had eaten his sandwiches with the other volunteers. He’d been completely business-like, and while she knew she ought to feel pleased, what she actually felt was restless and frustrated. She’d wanted to grab hold of him, push him into a quiet corner and demand to know what yesterday, and their near kiss, had all been about.
Yesterday, in that strange linking of minds and bodies, she’d been sure he felt exactly as she had – that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But now, after he’d been practically ignoring her all day, she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she’d just imagined it. Perhaps it had meant nothing after all.
‘There,’ said the hairdresser with a note of satisfaction in her voice, and Alexia blinked, focussing properly on the hairstyle for the first time. Her hair was piled up on t
op of her head except for two cheeky tendrils escaping in corkscrew curls down one side. It made her look… different, drawing attention to her neck and her shoulders.
‘It suits you,’ the hairdresser told her encouragingly. ‘You have a beautiful bone structure and a figure to die for. You shouldn’t hide behind your hair, lovely though it is.’
Was that what she did? Probably. Alexia smiled stiffly, not passing an opinion on the hairdresser’s comment. ‘Thank you,’ she said, getting up from the chair and going over to have her make-up done.
All too soon the audience were arriving and the band was playing a warm up set while everyone found their seats. Backstage was a hubbub of excitement, with models touching up their lipstick, adjusting straps and stepping into high heels. Alexia soon caught their excitement, although she was still a little nervous about parading in front of hundreds of people in a bikini. But then they were all nervous about doing that.
Alexia’s first outfit was safe enough – a pair of baggy white three quarter length trousers and a stripy navy and white t-shirt. All the clothes had been lent for the occasion by a local department store, and represented the different types of clothes a woman might want to wear on holiday – day wear, evening wear and of course, beach wear.
As well as the trousers and T-shirt, Alexia was wearing at least ten bangles on her arm, and they jangled like her nerves as she bent to wrap the laces of a pair of white wedge espadrilles around her ankles.
Suddenly she heard the music stop, swiftly followed by a surge of enthusiastic applause. The compère for the evening must be on stage now. Not long to go now!
‘Positions, please,’ said the stage manager, and Alexia followed the two other girls who were to precede her onto the catwalk.
‘Isn’t this great?’ one of the other models whispered to Alexia, all smiles.
Alexia grinned back, her stomach clenching with nervousness.
The compère’s voice boomed out from the stage. ‘And now without further ado, please welcome the first of our models!’
Alexia watched the first girl set off towards the lights of the stage, her back straight, and her walk confident. You can be like that too, Alexia told herself. You won’t necessarily fall over your heels in front of everybody. No! Don’t even start to think about that! You’ve practised doing this – you’ll be fine. It’s going to be great!
The first girl came back, smiling broadly as she hurried over to her clothes rail to change into her next outfit, and the second girl moved off onto the catwalk. It was Alexia’s turn next.
She took some deep breaths, trying to focus on the reason they were all doing this – on all the Centre users who would benefit if they could get enough money to equip the computer suite. Their lives would be changed if they could get some useful qualifications under their belts. And what was the big deal really? All she had to do was walk out there in a pair of trousers and a t-shirt. It really wasn’t that big a deal. In fact, it was going to be great!
The second girl was coming back now. Alexia’s legs felt like jelly.
‘Break a leg, Alexia,’ the stage manager whispered to her.
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Alexia whispered back, and she wasn’t joking. Then the second girl was swishing past her and somehow Alexia forced her legs to move and went out onto the catwalk.
There was a rushing in her ears, and the faces in the audience were a dark blur. It was impossible to pick out anyone in particular, and Alexia didn’t try. She kept her back straight and walked tall, the fabric of the thin trousers wafting around her legs as she moved.
‘And here’s Alexia Bright from The Heath Centre modelling a nautical look in one hundred percent cotton. The T-shirt is available straight necked as Alexia is wearing, or scoop necked. The trousers are also available in a full length style.’
Alexia stopped at the end of the catwalk, with one arm on her hip, her leg bent slightly to show the three quarter length of her trousers.
Count to ten, Alexia reminded herself. Turn slightly to show the outfit to all sides of the room.
Then she saw Mark. Close to the end of the catwalk, a smile on his face, silver eyes boring into hers. And he was wearing a suit. My goodness, he looked good. Someone coughed nearby. Alexia realized ten seconds had passed a long time ago and turned abruptly, wobbling on her heels for a nerve wracking moment before she recovered her poise and strode back along the catwalk towards backstage and safety, the applause ringing in her ears.
Breathlessly, she got back to her rail. That’s when she remembered that her next outfit was a bikini. And not a modest bikini either. A bikini with a plunging neckline and very high legs. Oh help. She wasn’t sure if she could do it.
* * * * *
Mark ran one finger under the collar of his shirt and shifted in his seat. He felt hot and uncomfortable. The suit was a little tight, but it had been the only half way decent one they’d had in the charity shop. He’d only brought one suit with him, but it was far too expensive-looking to wear for his role as a lowly volunteer.
All day long he’d kept his distance from Alexia, attempting to close his mind to the memory of that near kiss. But it was no good. His mind might be filled to the brim with all the rational, sensible reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with her, but when he was actually close to her all that went out of the window and he just wanted to hold her. Right now he wanted to protect her too. He was sure she was feeling nervous, and he wanted to send her telepathic messages that it was all right, she was doing fine.
It was daft really – Alexia was only putting herself through this for the sake of the centre, to help finance the new computer suite. And the money he was planning to donate in a few days’ time would more than cover that anyway.
Another girl was on the catwalk now, but Mark hardly saw her. He was trying to imagine what it would be like to present Alexia with a cheque for The Heath Centre. He really had no idea what her reaction was going to be. If only he could do it in private, instead of in front of the cameras. She might think he was showing off, doing it for the publicity; to say ‘look at me, aren’t I a hero, donating all this money to charity?’
And that wasn’t how he felt at all. Alexia was the hero, parading up there the way she was. All he was going to do was write a cheque.
Another model, and then there was Alexia again, and she was dressed in a bikini! It was a deep blue with white polka dots, and there was very little to it. Over the music, Mark heard one or two wolf whistles and instantly burned with jealousy, swiftly scanning the crowd in a fruitless attempt to pinpoint the culprits.
And then Alexia was there, right in front of him, and he burned for a different reason entirely. God, she was so sexy; so incredibly beautiful. Her legs went on forever, and her body curved just as he had imagined it would. Her face was red, and she was looking at someone beyond him. Or pretending to.
Look at me, Alexia, he willed her. Look at me.
Then she did. And when he smiled his appreciation, his encouragement, she smiled right back. A big, open smile that made him want to leap up onto stage and kiss her there and then. Restraining himself with difficulty, Mark watched her walk away, then sat through the rest of the show, joining in with the rapturous applause at the end.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said the compère after he’d thanked everyone who’d taken part and told people how they could go about purchasing the clothes. ‘The auction for dances with our wonderful models will be taking place very shortly. In the mean time, get yourself a drink and buy, buy, buy!’
Margery, the head of the organising committee came over to him with a large glass of wine. ‘Here, Mark,’ she said. ‘You deserve a drink. You worked really hard today. Thank you so much.’
Mark smiled, accepting the drink. ‘It was my pleasure,’ he said.
After Margery departed, Mark stood and sipped his wine. In two days’ time, he would be leaving. There would be no more bumping into Alexia around the Centre or in the local pub. Oh, he would come bac
k to see what the Centre had done with his donation, but… it would be different.
Suddenly, through the crowd, he saw Alexia making her way towards him. She was dressed in a deep yellow evening dress and she looked stunning. But she also looked troubled. Was she worried about the forthcoming auction?
‘Alexia,’ he said as she drew near. ‘Congratulations. You were fantastic.’
But she wasn’t looking at him, and after a few seconds, he realized she was looking at his drink.
‘Mark,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I know it’s none of my business, but do you really think you ought to drink that?’
Just for a moment, he didn’t understand, and then it hit him. The spilt pint of bitter, the lack of beer at her house… She thought he was an alcoholic!
He began to smile, remembering the assumptions he had made himself about Bert, but then he saw hurt flicker across Alexia’s face. How amusing Jonathan would have found it all. Jonathan who had most definitely had been an alcoholic. No, it wasn’t a funny subject.
‘Alexia,’ he began, intending to tell her the truth, but just at that moment the compère began to speak again.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d like to take your seats again, the dance auction will begin in two minutes.’
‘I have to go,’ Alexia said. ‘But please, Mark, don’t drink that. Don’t ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for.’ And she left.
* * * * *
Had she done enough? Standing with the other models on the stage, Alexia couldn’t see Mark any longer. For all she knew, he could have finished off that drink and be half way through another. If that were true…well, then she’d be bitterly disappointed. Unprofessional or not, she cared for Mark more than she dared admit to herself. She’d been nervous out there on the catwalk in that skimpy bikini. But then she had reached the end of the catwalk and her gaze had been dragged down to Mark’s as if it were magnetized. And the warmth beaming back at her from him had ignited a fire in her belly; a fire that had made her smile and straighten her shoulders, turning and walking tall back along the catwalk. And now she wanted… What? To magic all these people away and just to be with him? To forget about her responsibilities for once and to simply feel? To be truly Alexia?
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