Oh, Lord. Donna gulped, in danger of bursting into tears, right there in front of the little Japanese waiter. It was such a small thing he’d said, but so poetic in its simplicity, her disorientated heart felt full to overflowing. He hadn’t been gushing, full of false compliment designed to impress. He’d picked on the one thing she quite liked about herself: her smile, which she hadn’t had a reason to use much lately.
‘So tell me more about yourself,’ she asked, aware that she hadn’t told him much about herself. She liked him. More than liked him. He was kind, and obviously caring, but was he true? Or too good to be? It was too early to tell. She didn’t know him that well. She wasn’t ready yet to share her past with him, or for him to start defining her based on her history.
Mark nodded slowly. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you all my deep, dark secrets, but you first.’
‘Oh.’ Donna knitted her brow. ‘There’s not that much to tell really.’ She shrugged evasively. ‘Marriage, divorce, you know? Usual story.’
‘Ditto. Not easy to know where to start, is it, telling your life story?’ Mark suggested astutely.
‘No.’ Donna shook her head and glanced down.
‘Tell you what,’ he squeezed her hand, ‘why don’t we get to know each other slowly? Make a promise to reveal one secret every time we see each other? Sound good?’
‘Sounds good.’ Donna nodded, relieved, and added perceptive to his list of qualities.
Mark nodded in turn. ‘Right, me first,’ he said, ‘but, I have to warn you, it might be a bit… off-putting.’
‘How off-putting?’ Donna asked warily.
Mark scanned her face, his expression serious.
Oh, no. Donna’s shoulders drooped. He was still married. Addicted to lap-dancing clubs. Escaped from an asylum.
‘I, er…’ Mark started, then stopped. ‘There’s something I need to tell you, Donna, and it’s… well, like I say, off-putting… possibly. Something that some people… women wouldn’t be able to, er…’ He trailed off awkwardly.
Donna glanced down, then back at him.
Mark raked a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable now.
Don’t stare at him, idiot. Donna shifted her gaze to her plate and idly plucked up a prawn. ‘I’m sure it can’t be more shocking than anything I’ve done,’ she said, attempting to put him at his ease. ‘I have been around the block a few times, you know.’ She waved her prawn airily. Then took her foot out of her mouth and popped the prawn in.
Mark cocked his head to one side. ‘Just a few times?’
‘Oh, you know, one or two,’ Donna trilled nonchalantly.
‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘So is that one of your secrets? Or is it general knowledge?’
What? Donna blinked at him, panicked, not least because of the marine crustacean wedged in her windpipe. ‘No,’ she spluttered. ‘I didn’t mean around, around. I meant around, um…’
‘A bit?’ Mark suggested helpfully.
‘Yes.’
‘Ah.’
‘No! I mean…’ Donna trailed helplessly off.
‘You’re a woman of considerable experience?’ Mark offered, his mouth curving into a slow smile.
‘Oh, ho, ho, ho.’ Donna couldn’t help but smile back. ‘I thought we were supposed to be serious.’
‘We are. I am.’ Mark laughed, an easy comfortable laugh.
‘Right, go on then.’ She nodded him on, trying to look more worldly-wise woman of substance than woman of considerable experience.
‘Right.’ Mark straightened his face. ‘It’s, er, personal,’ he said, his voice low against the hum of conversation in the restaurant. ‘And not something most people would be comfortable with, to be honest.’
Donna stared at him, wondering whether now might be a good time to leave.
He beckoned her closer. Donna obliged, realising the only way not to, without making it obvious, would be to fall backward in a dead faint off the bench chair — which really wouldn’t translate worldly woman of substance.
‘What?’ she whispered, so close to him now, she could smell his intoxicating aftershave, which would haunt her senses for the rest of her life if he told her anything terrible.
Mark moved closer. ‘I, er.’ He stopped, his breath so warm on her cheek, Donna felt goose bumps the length of her spine.
‘I have a… My s…’ He drew in a breath, then, ‘I… like rom-coms,’ he finally said. ‘Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s a compulsion. It’s pathetic, I know. I’m thinking of getting professional…’
‘Rom-coms!?’ Donna pulled back. ‘You like rom-coms? That’s your deep dark secret?’
‘Shush,’ Mark said, glancing hurriedly around, closely followed by ‘Ouch!’ as Donna prodded him with the blunt end of her chopstick.
‘Ooh, you…’ She narrowed her eyes, about to give him another prod, when the girly table next door broke out into rapturous applause.
‘He could watch rom-coms with me anytime,’ one of the girls shouted as the other girls whooped.
Donna folded her arms. ‘You’re over-egging it,’ she suggested as Mark feigned dying of embarrassment, face down on the table.
‘I think we’d better leave, before you have to fight them off,’ he mumbled, glancing up with a smirk.
****
‘Stick with me, kid, and we’ll get through this,’ Mark drawled in a terrible American accent as they surveyed the rain pebble-dashing the pavement around them ‘Ready?’ He glanced from where they stood outside his car to Donna’s front door.
‘Uh, huh.’ Donna nodded bravely from under the jacket he was holding cape-like over them.
‘Good man.’ Mark switched to military British. ‘Okay, on my count we make a run for it. Agreed?’
Donna saluted. ‘Wilco.’
‘Good chap.’ Mark nodded. ‘One, two,’ he counted — then ran. Then, obviously noticing a certain good chap was missing, skidded to a halt halfway to the front door. ‘Shoot! Donna? What’re you doing?’
‘Getting wet.’ Donna informed him — wetly, then shrieked as an icy drip snaked its way down her spine.
‘You said on your count. Ooch! Ouch!’ She scrunched her head into her neck and caught up, ducking too late under his cape to be anything other than seriously flat-haired.
‘I counted,’ Mark insisted, tugging her close and holding the coat over them as they made a final bolt for the house.
‘To two, Mark,’ Donna pointed out this all-important detail. ‘I thought you meant three.’
‘Whoops, sorry,’ he said, as she pushed the key into the lock.
‘Three,’ he said hopefully, as they scrambled in from the rain. ‘Er, you’re wet…’ he pointed out unnecessarily, as she turned to face him ‘… a bit.’
Donna went cross-eyed as another icy trickle dripped off the end of her nose. ‘Gosh, I never would have noticed.’
‘Sorry,’ Mark said seriously, then promptly opened the door and stepped back out. ‘Does that help?’
‘Mark!’ Donna laughed, and tried to drag him back in. ‘You’ll get pneumonia.’
‘Bound to,’ sighed Mark, back-stepping in as she tugged at his shirt. ‘You’re a hard woman, Donna O’Connor.’
****
‘Here you go.’ Donna offered Mark a towel, as she came downstairs dabbing at her wet tendrils with a towel of her own. ‘And consider yourself lucky. Messing with a girl’s hair is practically a hanging offence. A lesser woman would have left you shivering on the doorstep.’
‘So you’re saying forget the flowers and chocolates, just make sure to bring the sun next time. Tall order.’ Mark said, towelling his own hair as he followed her up the hall.
‘Well, any man worth his salt would bring the sunshine and make sure the chocolates were in a cool bag.’ Donna laughed, though the words next time gave her a jolt, next time being nearer the time when she might have to reveal more of herself. ‘I thought you were going to call anyway. Not just turn up here.’ Not that Donna minded now. She’d had a wonder
ful evening.
‘I did call. Your mobile was off.’ Mark paused behind her to give Sadie a fuss. ‘Hey, girl, how you doing? Clever girl, aren’t you, hmm?’
‘Oh.’ Donna turned around, her heart melting at the sight of this most masculine man fawning over her three-legged dog. And he was still smiling, despite that he’d got wetter than she had. It was nice to have a man smiling around her.
‘Oh,’ Mark repeated, his smile broadening as he straightened up.
Donna cocked her head, perplexed. ‘What’s funny?’
‘You,’ Mark said, hanging his towel on the stair-rail and taking a step towards her. ‘And that oh of yours. Kind of like a full stop, isn’t it?’
Donna was none the wiser.
‘Everywhere there should be a question or a statement, you insert, oh. Complication avoidance technique?’ Mark asked, moving closer.
‘No,’ Donna said, her gaze drawn irresistibly to his.
‘Sure?’
Donna nodded, the very closeness of him causing her heart to flip in her chest.
‘So your mobile wasn’t switched off on purpose, then?’
‘No.’ Donna gulped as he reached out to cup her face with his hand, grazing a thumb skin-tinglingly across her cheek.
‘Good,’ he said, weaving his hand through her damp hair, trailing the other down her back and pulling her towards him. ‘Because I’ve been thinking,’ he said, his voice deep and smoky, ‘if it is just a casual acquaintance you want, with no complications, I’ll do it. And I’ll keep on doing it until you trust me.’
Donna’s heart was racing so fast it was in danger of leaping right out of her mouth as he searched her eyes, the look in his igniting every nerve in her body.
‘I like being with you,’ he murmured, grazing her cheek with his, pressing his lips to her temple so softly it caused a low moan to escape her. Sweetly agonising, Mark took his time, trailing his lips slowly the length of her neck, then back again to find her mouth. Then pausing.
‘Are you okay with this?’ he asked, cautiously.
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Mark nodded, rested his forehead briefly against hers, then kissed her, hard, hot and hungry.
‘OhmiGod! Stop!’ she cried, as one hand found its way tentatively under her top.
Alarmed, Mark snatched his hand back. ‘What?’ He quickly scanned the hall, searching for lace-eating rabbits, whose great-escape plans he could possibly curtail with a sidestep.
‘Matt,’ Donna gasped, cocking an ear as someone walked up the drive. ‘He’s back early.’
‘Hell.’ Mark looked this way and that, looking totally panic-struck. ‘Do you want me to slip out the back?’
‘What, and give my son the impression I have a secret lover?’
Mark scratched his head. ‘You don’t, do you?’
Donna gave him a look. ‘I don’t want Matt to think that I do, Mark. Sends out all the wrong signals. He’ll be thinking I have a string of lovers coming and going while he’s out, and a turnstile in the hall.’
‘Ah.’ Mark nodded, as if enlightened. ‘I thought it was some kind of safety gate to keep Sadie downstairs,’ he quipped, then held up his hands in defence as Donna shot him her best withering glance.
‘You’ll just have to meet him,’ she said. ‘But please promise not to do or say anything controversial. Okay?’
‘I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.’ Mark sounded a touch hurt.
Oh, dear, that didn’t come out quite right. Donna felt bad for him. ‘I meant anything that might upset Matt, Mark, not me. He’s very vulnerable right now, though he’d rather die than admit it.’
‘As teenagers do.’ Mark nodded understandingly. ‘I’ll do my best, promise.’ He gave her a reassuring smile.
‘Do you mind waiting in the kitchen?’ Donna handed him her towel and quickly straightened her top. ‘Give me a chance to set the scene?’
‘Right,’ Mark said, disappearing swiftly through a door, then reappearing. ‘Toilet,’ he said, smiling wanly and heading for the kitchen.
Two minutes later, Mark hovered at the lounge door, loosening his collar and looking more nervous than Donna felt.
‘Matt, I’d like you to meet Mark,’ she said, stepping in.
Casting Mark a cursory glance, Matt continued to stroke Findus, who was nestled in the crook of his arm, nibbling at his tee shirt.
So far, so good, Donna thought. ‘Mark’s a policeman.’
‘You don’t say,’ Matt replied, disinterested eyes fixed back on the TV.
Mark ran his hand over his neck and glanced at Donna in a what-do-I-say-now sort of way. ‘Findus looks comfortable,’ he tried.
Matt remained mute.
‘Looks like whatsitsname?’ Mark pondered. ‘Mr something. You know, in the James Bond film?’
‘Bigglesworth,’ Matt supplied, with a roll of his eyes. ‘And it’s not.’
‘Right,’ Mark nodded, and looked puzzled. So did Donna. ‘Er, not what?’
‘Not the James Bond film,’ Matt informed him dryly. ‘Mr Bigglesworth was Dr Evil’s cat, not Blofeld’s. He was also bald.’
Matt continued to run his fingers through his rabbit’s abundance of fur, now definitely looking like Mark’s archrival.
‘Ahh? Er, right.’ Marked nodded, and looked completely lost for words.
‘Austin Powers,’ Donna chipped in, by way of explanation. ‘You know, the, um… films? Ahem.’ She clapped her hands jollily in front of her as silence ensued, smiled apologetically at Mark, then bemusedly as Mark glanced at the TV, said, ‘Wow! Cool. The Wrath of Khan,’ and bounced on in.
‘Have you seen Search For Spock?’ he asked, plonking himself next to Matt on the sofa.
Matt’s gaze slid suspiciously sideways. ‘Downloaded it,’ he said guardedly.
‘Yeah? Blimey, wish I’d thought of that.’ Mark turned towards him, impressed. ‘What about The Voyage Home?’
‘Yep,’ Matt confirmed, now looking rather smug.
‘Cool.’ Mark went all sixties hippie again. ‘Did you see the bit where Scotty thought the computer mouse was a communicator?’
‘Yeah. Brilliant, wasn’t it?’ Matt nodded enthusiastically, warming to his subject, and towards Mark, if the volume dropping to enable hearing level was anything to judge by. ‘Have you seen the latest?’
‘No, not yet.’ Mark looked heartily disappointed. ‘You?’
‘Yep. S’good. Leonard Nimoy’s in it.’
‘So I heard. And the guy who plays Captain Kirk… Whatsisname?’
‘Chris Pine,’ Matt supplied.
‘Yeah, him. He’s supposed to be quite funny, isn’t he? So, have you seen all of the others?’
‘Yep.’ Matt looked suitably proud. ‘Nemesis, Insurrection…’
‘The Final Frontier,’ Mark picked up.
Generations, Donna thought, next and current, sitting side-by-side with gleaming eyes glued to the telly. Well, they were obviously bonding. She decided to leave them trekking happily together while she made herself presentable in the bathroom.
Which was not going to be easy. Her hair was as flat as a pancake and with half her make-up washed off she was as pale as a ghost. Donna sighed and decided on au natural… ish. Just a teeny dab of bronzer and her hair tied up in a top knot.
Five minutes later, she walked back into the lounge, trying hard not to look like a sun-kissed pineapple, only to be greeted by Matt’s, ‘Oh my God, it’s hair Jim…’
‘… but not as we know it,’ Mark finished, hilariously.
Obviously a girl’s hair being a sensitive subject, Donna made a big show of not speaking to Mark.
Not that he would have noticed, she thought, sitting side-by-side with Sadie and Findus in arms, watching Mark stroll past, giving her a distracted smile and still talking animatedly with Matt as they headed to the hall. Having apparently decided Mark was all right, Matt was now keen to show him the other passion in his life — his clunking VW.
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br /> ‘I could have pranced around in front of the TV stark naked with tassels on, couldn’t I, hon, and still he would have strained his eyes around me in search for Spock.’ Not that Donna would have pranced, unless they were extremely large tassels.
‘I wouldn’t,’ Mark said, coming back into the lounge ten minutes later to beam his best twinkly smile at her.
Donna, trying to work out who Khan was and how Spock was going to feature in the next film when he was dead, had lost the plot. ‘Wouldn’t what?’
‘Search for Spock in favour of you stark naked.’ Mark walked towards her, his eyes wickedly sexy as he bent to tease her lips with his. ‘Though you might have to lose the rabb… Ahem.’
Mark straightened up smartly as Matt waltzed into the lounge, his eyes sliding from Mark to his mother, then suspiciously back.
Mark coughed awkwardly. ‘I’d, er, better get off. Early start tomorrow, you know.’
‘Right.’ Donna scrambled to her feet and deposited Findus on the armchair, to Sadie’s befuddlement.
‘Right.’ Mark ran his hand through his hair, hesitated, then shook Donna’s hand. ‘Bye,’ he said, turning to shake Matt’s hand manfully, before heading to the hall.
Donna glanced at Matt, who rolled his eyes so high they were in danger of disappearing under his Bench cap. ‘You’d better go after him,’ he said, his mouth twitching into a smirk, as he retrieved his beloved rabbit in case Sadie sat on it, ‘before he finds a hole in the hall floor to disappear into.’
Donna laughed. Matt obviously approved. He must do if he considered Mark worthy of a whole energy-sapping sentence. ‘I’ll see you out,’ she called, scooting quickly after him.
****
Mark had started his engine when his mobile beeped from the hall floor. Uh, oh. It had obviously slipped out of his jacket pocket as they’d scrambled in from the rain. Donna turned to scoop it up, then waving it, dashed out of the front door. ‘Mark?!’
Damn. Too late. She ground to a halt as his tail-lights disappeared around the corner. Ah, well, never mind. She’d just ring him and… Yes, excellent idea. Not really likely to answer though was he, given she was clutching his mobile. So how was she going to get in touch with him? She hadn’t got his home number. Donna felt suddenly a teensy bit adrift.
Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. Page 8
