Marcia.
But as he made his way back through the center of town, he passed the picture perfect window of an elegant patisserie. His frown instantly smoothed and a smile curved his lips. One short detour on the way back to his car wouldn’t hurt.
* * * *
24
Getting It Right This Time
Kate got out of her Peugeot 307 and took a deep breath. Mark’s unexpected visit had sent her already stretched nerves to overdrive, and when he’d left the salon, the extent of the state he’d left her in manifested in a number of ways. She walked straight upstairs and accidentally upset an entire vat of wax onto the laminate flooring in treatment room one, then she’d walked into the kitchen and eaten Jo’s specially made Weightwatchers chicken and salad wrap, oblivious to the equal amounts of care and contempt Jo had put into making it at seven-thirty that morning.
The poor girl was edgy enough being on a diet without Kate eating every last morsel of her best intentions.
So, feeling incredibly guilty as well as astonishingly stupid, Kate had jumped into her car to go out and replace the wax and low-fat, low-calorie chicken wrap as fast as possible. But no, once more, the gods were against her and after sitting in a traffic hold up of laughable proportions, she’d missed a scheduled appointment and left Jo to hold the fort on her own for over an hour.
Kate pushed open the door on the salon and cursed the jingling bell announcing her arrival.
No doubt Jo was ready to kill her. She took three steps inside when Jo shot out the back room, lunged forward with the panache of an Olympic gymnast and grabbed Kate’s upper arms.
“He came back!” she cried.
“What? Who?” Kate stared at her, completely bewildered by the look of pure ecstasy on her assistant’s face.
“Sexy Mark Johnston.”
A rush of heat surged over Kate’s body--only to be replaced with ice-cold perspiration bursting onto her upper lip. “What? Why?”
Jo squealed and clapped her hands together. “He brought you something.”
“He…”
Kate’s echo died on her lips when Jo dragged her over to the payment counter. “Look!”
Pale pink ribbons were tied around the handles of the biscuit-colored picnic basket and a wide pink and white gingham ribbon circled its center. Both of the dual lids were ajar, one revealing a dozen pink carnations, the other a bottle of white wine so chilled the perspiration slid in occasional rivulets down its neck.
“Why would he do this?” Kate whispered, taking another step closer as a smile tugged at her lips.
She smoothed her hand over the surface of one of the handles and inhaled the aroma of freshly baked bread seeping from inside. Her stolen Weightwatcher lunch groaned inside her stomach.
“Open it. Open it,” Jo said, bouncing from one foot to the other.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Kate huffed, yet dismally failing to curb her stupidly insistent grin.
Sighing theatrically, she lifted one of the lids and her breath caught. He’d bought her favorite granary bread, along with delicate slices of Parma ham and a thick wedge of creamy brie. Tears stung at her eyes, and she swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat.
Rachel Brimble
25
“Oh, Mark.” She said the words on an exhalation as she carefully lifted a crisp white napkin to reveal two of the most delectable mini strawberry and fresh cream tarts she’d ever seen. Her absolute weakness.
She slowly closed the lid and re-arranged her expression into what she hoped was careless nonchalance before turning around. “When did he leave?”
“About ten minutes ago,” Jo said breathlessly. “Can you believe this? Isn’t it lovely?”
“What did he say?”
Her assistant frowned. “Aren’t you happy? Don’t you think it’s romantic?”
“Jo, focus. What did he say?”
Her blue eyes clouded, clearly displaying her disproval of Kate’s seemingly unappreciative response to such a thoughtful gesture. Kate smiled inwardly, knowing full well she’d
Learning to Kill: Stories