Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. (3 page)

Donna froze. Oh, God, he was going to charge her, here in the street. Totally humiliate her, in front of everyone.

He offered her the book — back cover discreetly upward, his smile now rather elusive. ‘I’m just going off duty. Don’t suppose you fancy a quick coffee, do you?’

Chapter Two

In deference to Sadie, they plumped for a table outside the
Café Vienna
, where Donna assured him she would never, ever park illegally again.

‘Good,’ Mark said. ‘I’d hate to have to drag you off in handcuffs.’

‘Me too,’ Donna said airily, then choked inelegantly on her mocha.

Her coughing fit over, assisted by an able policeman patting her on the back, they continued to chat, swapping small-talk and smiles. Finally, they swapped coffees. And a man that would part with the flake on top of his vanilla Frappuccino and give his biscuit to her dog scored high, as far as Donna was concerned.

The cream-coated flake tantalised every taste bud. Mark’s thumb trailing over her lips tantalised more. ‘You missed some,’ he said. Such a cliché, but with his twinkly eyes fixed firmly on hers — not tired. Not tired at all.

Smiling again, uncertainly this time, he glanced down and then back up. ‘I, er, don’t suppose you’d like to go out properly sometime, would you?’ he asked, now looking very uncertain, making Donna’s heart pitter-patter all over again. ‘Dinner, maybe?’

Donna blinked, astonished. By God, he was a fast mover. He was asking her
out
out? To dinner, when she looked like the dog’s dinner? Dressed in her moth-eaten leggings, now sporting more hair than her dog, and a top under her parka that was mislabelled size fourteen instead of age fourteen, she doubted she’d be anyone’s fantasy come true. Less so, if she took her unflattering ensemble off, but
oh, my God
— he was. And he was looking so delectably self-conscious, she might just be forced to eat him wholesale and done with.

Loosening his collar, and looking as though he’d quite like something to swallow him up, Mark glanced away again. ‘Sorry. I, er… Bit presumptuous.’ He reached for his coffee cup and swirled the contents around. ‘You’re probably with someone. I just thought I’d…’

‘Actually,’ Donna cut him short, her confidence suddenly bolstered so high, it had grown wings, ‘I quite like you,’ she said quickly, feeling her own face flush right down to her freckly décolleté.

‘Oh.’ Mark stared at her, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

Great
! Now he’d probably got her down as a desperate tart who didn’t do sex very well. Donna dropped her gaze, wondering how she could make a discreet exit with her three-legged dog, now she’d made a complete idiot of herself.

‘Right,’ Mark said, lowering his mug and planting it on the table. ‘Likewise.’

Donna’s head snapped back up. ‘Sorry?’

‘I’m not. I’m flattered.’ Mark’s mouth curved into its bone-melting smile. ‘The feeling’s mutual, but then, you probably gathered that.’

Was he having a laugh? Donna scanned his face, looking for a hint of mockery in his pretty blue eyes. ‘No. No, I didn’t,’ she said, noting nothing but sincerity there. ‘I mean, I do now that you’ve, um, you know, but I… Ahem.’ She stopped, before she started babbling and beamed a smile at him, then tried to tone it down, lest he think her a complete imbecile.

He laughed not unkindly, reached for his mug again, and did his swirly contemplative thing with the contents. ‘So,’ he asked, locking eyes with hers, ‘are you married?’

‘No.’ Donna squinted at him, wondering at the question. Was he in the habit of asking women out before he’d checked out their availability? She hastily dropped her gaze to his ring finger, squinting harder as she searched for the tell-tale white band. Upon which, he reached quickly into his inside breast pocket, fumbling ever-so-conveniently for something therein. ‘Sorry, mobile,’ he offered by way of explanation.

Oh, hell.
Donna closed her eyes.
He
was
. She sighed heavily inside. Unhappily married, no doubt. Wife’s a horrible cow who doesn’t understand him and who he’s never had sex with, ever — except to produce two-point-four children, who are doing their exams right now as he sits here and lies, and so he can’t possibly leave her, not now. Not ever.

Whatever. Donna tugged in a breath and steeled herself. She wasn’t going there, not now. Not ever. ‘I was married,’ she said quickly, averting her gaze, because she really was beginning to feel naïve now and extremely idiotic. ‘I have a son,’ she went on, opening the door quite wide enough for him to introduce any wives or children of his own he might be neglecting to mention.

‘I know.’ He gave her another one of his elusive smiles. ‘I’ve seen you around.’

Neat move, thought Donna. ‘You have?’ Where? She didn’t get around that much, apart from the supermarket. Was he a supermarket cruiser?

‘Once or twice,’ he expounded, looking serious. ‘The last time driving the wrong way down a one-way street.’

‘Ahh…’ Donna nodded, and swallowed.

Mark smiled. ‘I’ve never seen a sixteen point turn before, I have to admit. It was different.’

‘Sat nav,’ Donna offered by way of weak explanation.

‘Of course. I have the same trouble all the time,’ Mark assured her — the soul of understanding.

Donna smiled back, despite herself. She liked him, she really did, and she couldn’t help it. So what on earth did she do now?
Ask
him. Suspicion gave her a quick shove in the right direction. There was nothing else
to
do. ‘What about you?’ She braced herself and took the bull by the horns. ‘Is there a Mrs PC Mark Evans?’

Mark hesitated, dropping his gaze to his coffee cup — and Donna’s heart plummeted.

She waited.

Studying him hard.

Mark shifted uncomfortably, tugged in a breath, and debated. He should tell her now, up front. He knew he should. He ran his thumb pensively over the rim of his mug and debated some more. And then what? And then, he’d see her eyes cloud over with uncertainty, as he’d seen happen so many times before. She might go out with him. Chances were, though, she’d consider the wisdom of getting involved with a man there could be no future with and say, thanks, but no thanks.

‘No,’ he said, finally. Over dinner, he decided, that’s when he’d tell her, if she would go out with him. Maybe then, if she knew him a little better, liked him enough, she’d want to take things further. Yes, right. He sighed inwardly. Not likely though, was it? ‘I, er…’ he started again, knowing there really was no way forward if he wasn’t honest at outset, then paused.

‘What?’ Donna’s urgent tone snatched his attention back to her face.

‘Nothing,’ he said quickly, bottling out — and feeling like a complete coward, but was it really that wrong to want to delay the inevitable? To want to spend some time in a woman’s company where his complications weren’t the topic of conversation? There was Michelle, of course, who didn’t mind spending time in his company — when her schedule at the hospital allowed it — but they rarely had much time for verbal intercourse, both always on the clock, snatching time to meet up when they could. The sex was… well, good… but Michelle had made it clear that, as a young junior doctor chasing promotion to clinical lead, she had no time or inclination for anything more, i.e. his life and all the baggage that went with it. Mark couldn’t blame her. He’d been almost relieved when she’d come right out and said so. The thing was that he
did
want more. He’d even considered taking up smoking on the basis that the odd post-coital conversation might be nice.

‘I was married once,’ he continued, choosing his words carefully and hoping that this time things might be different. That Donna might possibly be interested in a relationship that was more a relationship. ‘But it didn’t work out.’

‘Oh?’ Donna nodded. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not much to tell, really.’ Mark ran a hand over his neck. ‘We, er, grew apart, you know? I’ll bore you with the details some other time.’

She stared at him, a puzzled look on her face. A very cute face. Mark smiled quietly, noting the smattering of freckles over her nose, her pretty green eyes. Her lips, which curved easily into a smile. He liked her. He really did want to see her again, and he would tell her. He promised himself that. Next time.

‘So what do you do?’ he asked, changing the subject, not too obviously, he hoped. ‘For a living, I mean?’

‘Single parent and office worker at a care centre at the moment,’ she smiled apologetically. ‘Nothing special, but I’m looking at training.’

‘Don’t underrate yourself,’ Mark replied, curiously searching her eyes. She didn’t exactly exude confidence. No surprise there. Mark knew a little of her history. Should he tell her he did? No. He supposed it was fair to assume that if he didn’t care to share his private life in public outside a coffee shop, she wouldn’t thank him for sharing hers. ‘What kind of training?’

‘Childcare,’ she said, with a self-effacing shrug. ‘Not rocket science, I know, but the centre caters to children with learning difficulties and I think it’s something I could be good at, you know? Assuming I can get my bitchy manageress to OK my application, that is.’ She rolled her eyes despairingly.

Mark smiled. Knowing the special qualities needed for that particular line of work, he didn’t doubt it might be something she would be good at. ‘Would you like me to drop by and harass her?’ he asked, with a mock scowl.

Donna laughed. ‘I can fight my own battles thank you, but I’ll call if I need you.’

‘I’ll make sure to give you my number,’ Mark said, serious now. He scanned her eyes — kind eyes, vulnerable, yet determined — and found himself not wanting to look away.

She held his gaze for a second, and then glanced down.

Damn. Too pushy. ‘So, do you have any interests?’ he asked, steering the subject back to safer ground.

‘Apart from picking up policemen, you mean?’ Donna’s eyes flickered bashfully back to his. ‘No, except…’ she hesitated ‘… self-interest, maybe.’

Mark finished his coffee, and wondered whether he should offer to get another. ‘How so?’

Donna took a breath. ‘I, um, don’t want to rush into anything.’ She glanced uncertainly at him. ‘I mean, I’d quite like to go out with someone. With you, if you’d like, assuming you are, um, currently unencumbered,’ she hurried on, ‘but I don’t want… complications, I suppose.’

Mark nodded, careful to keep his expression neutral. ‘So, you’d like to take things slowly, then?’

‘Yes.’ Donna furrowed her brow. ‘I think so.’

Mark nodded again, thoughtfully. ‘No problem. I understand,’ he said, wondering whether he should do the cutting and running, now, before he made her life as complicated as hell.

He checked his watch. Force of habit, juggling home and work as he always seemed to be. Karl was due at the respite centre. He could get back comfortably enough to relieve the child-minder. But Jody would only wonder why, he supposed. And Karl really wouldn’t notice one way or the other.

Dammit, he owed himself a little off-duty time, didn’t he? And if he was reading the signs right, Donna was hinting she wanted more than dinner. ‘I’d better make a move,’ he said, trying to work out — assuming she did — how to pin her down to a time and a place.

‘Oh.’ Donna’s eyes shot wide… with alarm? Mark smiled and took that as a positive sign. ‘Right. Yes, me too,’ she said, glancing away. ‘Things to do, dog’s to, um, hop. Come on, Sade.’ She visibly hoisted her shoulders up and attempted to scrape her chair back, the leg of which, unfortunately, seemed to be wedged between paving stones.

Mark’s smile widened. ‘Doesn’t do for policemen to be seen hanging around coffee bars in uniform for too long,’ he said, standing to walk around the table to assist her. ‘Would you allow me the honour of escorting you to your car? And the further honour…’ he said, his mouth close to her ear ‘… of seeing you again, after whatever amount of time you deem appropriate, of course?’

‘Pardon?’ She blinked up at him.

‘As long as it’s not too long.’ He offered a hand and helped her to her feet. ‘Don’t want you picking up any more policemen in my absence, do we?’

‘No,’ Donna said, her eyes on his, her lips slightly parted, far too close to his. ‘I’ve got the place,’ she blurted, just as Mark was wondering what she might taste like.

Mark twanged his attention away from her mouth. She’d got the… ‘What?’ He shook his head, confused.

‘The place,’ Donna repeated, with a determined nod, ‘if you’ve got the time.’

‘Right,’ Mark nodded, now feeling totally confused. ‘Donna, I’m not sure I’m getting the drift.’

‘Coffee,’ she said, two little bright spots appearing on her cheeks. ‘Would you like one? Another one, I mean. Or tea? I might have some juice. Or wine, if you’d like. Only white, though, I’m afraid. And it’s only the boxed stuff but…’ Donna stopped as Mark continued to study her, confounded. Was she inviting him back to…?
Christ,
so what did he do now?

Donna dropped her gaze. ‘I was just wondering if… but, if you’re busy…’ She stopped, chewing worriedly on her bottom lip, whilst distractedly stroking her beloved dog’s head. The dog panted, glared at Mark — he would swear — then gazed lovingly up at Donna

Mark could see why. ‘I adore coffee,’ he said softly. ‘Can’t get enough of the stuff.’

****

‘I haven’t read it,’ Donna announced, coming back into the kitchen after checking her son wasn’t home.

Trying hard to look cool, as if a rabbit appearing from nowhere to park itself at his feet and make meal of his bootlace was nothing out of the ordinary, Mark glanced at her curiously.

‘The book,’ Donna clarified, plucking the rabbit up and peering worriedly through its ears.

Mark’s mouth twitched into a smile. ‘What, the one you renewed today? What was it?’ He decided on diplomacy, rather than embarrass her further. What was he doing here? Apart from Michelle, his sexual encounters with women amounted to not many lately, but he wasn’t convinced Donna was into casual sex.

Was it some kind of ego-boosting exercise on her part maybe? In which case he’d be happy to oblige, but couldn’t help thinking it might not boost her ego very much. He’d thought his being here in situ might jog her memory, but she obviously didn’t remember him from the call out they’d had a while back, a domestic reported by the neighbours. He definitely remembered her though. Remembered very well the guy she’d been married to: a posh twat with a temper. A nasty bastard if ever Mark saw one. Nothing but cocky contempt in his eyes, for Donna or the law. For obvious reasons, Mark had taken an instant dislike to him, keeping the pompous prick in the dining room while a WPC waited in the kitchen with Donna for her sister to arrive. She hadn’t sustained physical injury. But she was shaken. And from what Mark had seen of her, her self-esteem had been badly bruised. Still was, obviously. So what
was
he doing here?