‘I will do that.’ Her expression showed she didn’t understand the ‘why’ of it, but her acceptance was enough. ‘And I can certainly take the photos and also use them to help me create an appropriate painting for the clients.’
Fiona gave him a pleasant but firm look. ‘It’s not ideal to come in partway through and need to produce a painting in that way, but I’m sure that won’t happen in the future.’
Brent liked a woman—correction, a person—with enough spunk to say what they wanted.
From the distance of an observer. You like it from that distance. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be included in future planning. In fact, I have a project that’s been driving me mad for the last three weeks. The client won’t settle on a design. I’m hoping if I pull you in on that one it might get me the breakthrough I need.’
‘Okay, well, that’s good then, and I’ll be happy to try to help with your project.’ Her expression held the slightest sheepish edge before she squared her shoulders and seemed to decide it was best she’d been clear about her expectations.
Brent went on to explain the problems with the project he’d mentioned, and to discuss some other issues. Work was easy. He always felt at home with his landscape projects.
An hour later Fiona stood at the door of his office once more, bag in hand, and thanked him for his time. ‘I can’t wait to start work Monday. I’ll have some photographic equipment to bring out to the landscaping site, if that’s okay.’
‘That’s fine. Anything you bring will be safe there, though we should get your equipment added to the business’s insurance cover.’
‘Shall I phone the details in later today? Model numbers and so on?’
‘Do that. You can leave them with Elizabeth, my receptionist.’ With this issue resolved, Brent went on, ‘If you need help to move into your flat this weekend—’
Fiona smiled her thanks, but shook her head. ‘I can get Tommy to use his delivery truck to help me shift the larger items. My friends all knew I was coming for this interview, so they’ve been on standby, half-expecting this.’
So ‘Tommy’ was simply one of those ‘friends’? Brent couldn’t explain why he suddenly felt…lighter than he had a few seconds ago. ‘Okay, then I guess I should let you go so you can start making arrangements.’
Fiona made a little bouncing motion on the balls of her feet. ‘A new home, a new job and a new part of the city to live in. I can’t wait to take it all on. Thank you again, Mr MacKay—Brent—for this chance.’
‘You’re more than welcome.’ Brent said his goodbyes and then watched her leave the building, hips swaying with each step she took.
And then he immersed himself in landscape plans, where he could line up his ideas in neat rows and spend as long as he needed on each aspect of his work. His head twitched sharply to the right, but he was by himself now. He didn’t worry about trying to conceal the action.
At least the condition he lived with was good for helping him to focus on his work, and he had every right to keep knowledge of it from the world at large. It was in his best interests to do so. His father’s past behaviour had made that abundantly clear.
Brent dug into his plans and put thoughts of Fiona Donner’s lovely smile—of his new employee’s smile—right out of his mind…
Chapter Two
‘A DOZEN shrubs for you, Russ.’ A worker placed the shrubs on the ground and moved away to collect another load.
It was Monday afternoon, towards the end of Fiona’s first day at the new job. Spending it out of doors helping to complete an actual work project as well as gather photographic resources for her painting and for the company to use to showcase its services had been a thrill. She smiled to herself as words continued to flow around her.
‘Hey, Phil. Can I use that mattock for the next ten minutes?’
‘Great job with the bougainvillea, Chelsea.’ This was Brent’s voice as he turned his head to check on one of the more junior members of the ground team. ‘Keep up the good work.’
The sun was shining and the ten-acre work site on the edge of a newish Sydney suburb was abuzz with activity. Brent was motivated and positive and determined, and the ground workers responded to his authority and encouragement by giving their absolute best. He was at home in this, and Fiona…found that knowledge of him perhaps a little too appealing.
‘We’re going to finish this job on time.’ The site boss, a man in his mid-thirties with a shock of carroty hair squashed under a baseball cap, paused beside Fiona to murmur the words. ‘I knew we would. The company hasn’t missed a deadline yet, even when things have gone pear-shaped, as they did with this project when some of the goods we ordered didn’t arrive three days ago.
‘That never would have happened with Linc’s nursery supplies. I’m guessing in future Brent will refuse to buy from anywhere else, even if it means asking his brother to import or source what it is that he needs.’
Brent had pulled in about a dozen extra workers from other job sites to work on this project. Fiona had done her share of carrying and carting and planting and fetching throughout the day, too. She was ‘grubby’, as Brent had predicted would happen. Mostly around the knees and seat of her jeans, and it was all good honest dirt. She’d learned so much about his process by getting her hands into it, and she’d had a ball getting dirty at the same time! ‘There doesn’t seem to be a lot left to do now.’
‘I’d say another half hour of work for everyone, if that.’ The boss moved on, and Fiona planted the last shrub in her allotment and dusted herself off.
She watched as Brent lifted a plant from a wheelbarrow and placed it in a prepared hole a few metres away with an efficient movement. In the early days of his business he had probably spent a lot of his time on this kind of thing.
He worked with a focused, economical efficiency. Her camera lens had tracked that focus again and again throughout the day. She itched to photograph him again now.
For their office files, Fiona justified. She glanced guiltily at the other nearby workers, but none of them seemed to be taking any particular notice of who or what she was studying.
Right now she needed to study landscape photo angles. She gathered her equipment. There should be a nice sunset soon, if she could find the right place on the property to photograph it. She fished her iPod out of her jeans pocket, placed the earphones in her ears and let the music and the lighting and the mood absorb her.
She truly was all about the work.
She was!
Brent found Fiona in a far corner of the property site, camera carefully placed on a tripod. She was waiting for something, he wasn’t sure what. And, while she waited, her body moved unconsciously to music only she could hear.
In her jeans and fitted red shirt, with dirt smears on her legs and other places, and her hair ruffled and half-falling from her ponytail, she looked…lived-in, girl-next-door.
He almost managed to convince himself she looked quite ordinary, in fact, until she made a small sound in the back of her throat, leaned in and took several photos before she straightened with a satisfied sigh, pulled the earphones from her ears and began to dismantle her equipment.
Because