Deceit. [COMPLETED.]

Chapter 2:

New Job new beginning.
PRESENT DAY
[KIRK ATTWOOD.]

It was three O'clock in the afternoon and I was parked a few yards away from a woman sat on a park bench. She was twirling the forefingers around the thumbs of each hand and was dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a tight fitting T-shirt. She had short blonde hair and a beautifully formed rounded face and seemed totally at ease in her surroundings and I had not once seen her look at her watch. 

A light breeze eased itself through my car window.

I was half way into my journey home and I was parked next to a small cafe to my right. The motorway was over half a mile away. It was peaceful and I was glad of the quiet, any noise quashed by a row of tall trees.

I was tired.

I had just come off a week of nights and here I could doze for a while before having a coffee and a bite to eat.

I was also married; happily married so the thought of even giving a lift to such a woman in a pair of tight fitting shorts should have been out of the question but here I was thinking about it, that and why it was that she was sat here all alone.

Broken clouds drifted overhead. The air was warm. I turned my car radio on and leant back listening to Whitney Houston sing about her greatest love. I must have dozed at some point. I suddenly opened my eyes and she was gone.

Or so I thought.

'I'm terribly sorry to disturb you but I don't suppose you could give me a lift home?'

Standing next to me the woman was even more beautiful. There was an elegance to her and she had that aura of sophistication which seemed totally at odds as to what she was doing by asking for a lift home.

'Only you are the first car I have seen in ages and I could be here all day if I'm not careful.'

When she talked, faint dimples appeared on either side of her cheeks and as she leant against my car window the faint scent of lavender filled my nostrils.

She took my hesitation as a sign of acceptance. She reached down and lifted up a blue Armani rucksack which she then threw into the back seat of my car.

'Thanks. I'll pay you back I promise.'

I told her that I needed a coffee first. I walked slowly to the cafe unsure of myself and chose a table at the back overlooking the English countryside.

'I'm Max by the way.'

She extended her hand. Her grip was light and I could feel the softness of her skin against mine.

'Kirk,' I replied wanting to get down to business. 'And so where exactly does a beautiful half-dressed woman like you go these days carrying an expensive Armani rucksack?'

My bluntness caused her to blush and I couldn't help but wonder which of my words were misplaced; beautiful or half dressed - maybe both.

She told me her home was in a little village near Driffield in Yorkshire.'

'Do you know of it?'

I nodded. I also inwardly cringed because it was only a few miles away from where I was going.

As a single child Max was born in Singapore. She had a father who was a Colonel in the army and she had spent most of her early childhood in a boarding school. She had gained an honours degree in Biochemistry and was on her way home having just finished a tour of Southern Ireland. 

Our coffees served I took a large mouthful of a cherry muffin before asking how she came by the name of Max. It seemed unusual to say the least.

'Oh that was my dad's fault,' she chuckled leaning back in her chair. 'I was born Margaret after my late grandmother but I was a stubborn little madam and always hated being told what to do. I also have a love of animals.'