Dr Drop–Dead Gorgeous
Emily Forbes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

EMILY FORBES is the pseudonym of two sisters who share both a passion for writing and a life-long love of reading. Beyond books and their families, their interests include cooking (food is a recurring theme in their books!), learning languages, playing the piano and netball, as well as an addiction to travel—armchair travel is fine, but anything involving a plane ticket is better. Home for both is South Australia, where they live three minutes apart with their husbands and four young children. With backgrounds in business administration, law, arts, clinical psychology and physiotherapy they have worked in many areas. This past professional experience adds to their writing in many ways: legal dilemmas, psychological ordeals and business scandals are all intermeshed with the medical settings of their stories. And, since nothing could ever be as delicious as spending their days telling the stories of gorgeous heroes and spirited heroines, they are eternally grateful their mutual dream of writing for a living came true.

They would love you to visit and keep up to date with current news future releases at the Medical™ Romance authors’ website at: http://www.medicalromance.com

To my very own Drop-Dead-Gorgeous husband and romantic inspiration, James, and our two gorgeous boys, Ned & Finn—it is the most amazing feeling to have your support and to know how proud you are of my writing.

You are the most precious people in the world to me and this book is for you with my thanks and love.

Chapter One

‘JULIET! Can you hear me? Stay with us, Juliet.’

Maggie woke with a start. She was in strange surroundings, curled up and cramped in an armchair. She rubbed her neck with one hand as she tried to work out where she was. The room came into focus. A drip stand, an overway table, white sheets on a single bed—a hospital room.

She remembered where she was. She was waiting for her sister to come out of Theatre.

She looked around, searching for the person whose voice had woken her. A man’s voice, she was sure of it. He’d been talking loudly but the room was quiet now; she was alone.

Had she been dreaming?

Her heart was thumping in her chest—she put her hand over it, as if she could slow it down. She had been dreaming; she could recall it now. She’d been dreaming about Juliet’s operation. Juliet’s heart had stopped and the doctors had been using cardiac paddles to get it going again. That was what had woken her so abruptly. That was why her heart was racing—it was as though she’d felt the shock of the charge going through her own chest.

Something had gone wrong and she needed to find out what it was.

She jumped out of the chair.

How long had she been sleeping? She checked her watch, quarter past two. Juliet should have been out of Theatre by now. Someone must know something.

Maggie needed information; she needed to know what had happened and she needed to know if Juliet was OK.

She made her way to the nurses’ station. The nurse sitting at the desk was the one who’d come to take Juliet to Theatre. Maggie was relieved there hadn’t been a change of shift yet. She had no time for pleasantries or to explain who she was.

‘Carol, do you know if Juliet is out of Theatre yet?’

The nurse looked up and must have recognised her. ‘I haven’t heard anything. Would you like me to check?’

‘Please. I thought she’d be finished by now.’ Maggie tapped her foot impatiently.

Carol picked up the phone and punched in the extension number, frowning as the call went unanswered. ‘There’s no answer but if they’re busy they don’t always pick up.’

Maggie knew that was true but she immediately wondered what was happening in Theatre or Recovery that would make the phone go unanswered. Was Juliet all right?

‘I’ll try again in a minute and come and find you. Will you wait in Juliet’s room?’ Carol waited for Maggie to nod before returning her attention to her paperwork.

Maggie made a pretence of returning to her sister’s room but there was no way she’d be able to sit and wait. She walked past the door and headed for the lift to take her up to Theatres and Recovery.

She paced around the confines of the lift as it carried her to the top floor. She exited the lift and followed the signs, hurrying along the corridor to the recovery suites and pressing the call button by the door. She pressed it twice before a nurse responded.

Maggie barely waited for the nurse to ask what she wanted before she spoke. ‘I’m Juliet Taylor’s sister. Can you tell me how she is?’

The nurse’s eyes widened and Maggie’s eyes narrowed in response as she tried to work out what was bothering the girl. Was she surprised to find a stranger hovering by the door or was she trying to formulate an answer? Maggie suspected that something had happened and that this nurse didn’t want to be the one to tell her about it.

‘What happened? Is she OK?’

The nurse continued to stand there, mute.

Maggie recognised the nurse’s expression now. Something unexpected had happened in Theatre and Maggie had been right to come barging up here to find out what. Something had happened to Juliet.

There was a flurry of movement behind the nurse. Maggie peered over her shoulder and saw a patient being wheeled into Recovery. She shoved her foot in the doorway to prevent the nurse from closing her out and waited, trying to catch a glimpse of the patient on the barouche. Was it Juliet? She couldn’t relax until she saw her sister with her own eyes.

There was quite a crowd surrounding the bed, fussing about as they connected the patient to various monitors. It was difficult to see who was lying there but as the nurse backed away Maggie had a strong suspicion the patient was Juliet. She wasn’t waiting any longer—somebody must be able to tell her something. She looked around for someone, anyone, who didn’t appear to be busy.

She saw the nurse she’d spoken to approach one of the other theatre staff—a man—and saw her point at the doorway, at Maggie. Maggie focused on her as she directed her comment to the room in general.

‘Excuse me, I’m Juliet Taylor’s sister. Could someone please tell me what’s going on?’

The man looked in her direction, issued what seemed to be instructions to the other staff and started towards her.

There was no hesitation on his part. He walked confidently. He looked as if he was used to being in control; he looked like a man who could avert a disaster.

Something in his walk told Maggie that even if there had been a problem, he’d solved it. He didn’t walk like a man who was about to deliver bad news. Maggie felt herself relax; she could breathe normally again.

‘You’re Juliet’s sister?’

Maggie nodded. ‘I’m Maggie Petersen.’

‘Ben McMahon, Juliet’s plastic surgeon.’ He held out his hand, offering to shake hers. His grip was warm and strong. Comforting, Maggie thought as she put her hand in his and felt her heart stop its crazy hammering and return to its normal rhythm, calmed by this man’s touch.

‘Is she OK?’

‘Yes, she’s going to be fine but there were some complications.’

‘What sort of complications?’ Maggie’s heart skipped a beat and she took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm, willing her heart to beat normally. Juliet had cheated death once before—could she be lucky a second time?

‘Let’s find somewhere to sit down.’ He led her around a corner to a room with several recliner chairs lining the walls. It was obviously used for day-surgery patients but at the moment it was vacant.

Ben waited for her to sit in one recliner, then he sat on the edge of the next one facing her. It looked as though he was trying to work out how to phrase his words gently and Maggie didn’t have the patience for that. ‘I’m a nurse—just tell me what happened.’

He jerked back a little, perhaps surprised by her abruptness, but he recovered quickly and answered Maggie’s question without hesitating. ‘Juliet’s reconstructive surgery went well—I was pleased with that aspect—but as the anaesthetist was about to reverse the anaesthetic Juliet’s blood pressure plummeted. You saw her in recovery—’ he waited for Maggie to nod in assent ‘—so you know she’s pulled through but her heart did stop and we had to resuscitate her.’

Maggie recalled her dream—maybe it hadn’t been as strange as it seemed. Her voice was tight as she forced her next question out. ‘She’s fine now?’

‘We’ll keep a close eye on her, of course, but so far she’s fine.’

‘How long did it take to revive her?’ Maggie needed facts.

‘About ninety seconds.’

Within safe time limits, Maggie knew. ‘What triggered the drop in BP?’ she asked.

‘The anaesthetist suspects it might have been a reaction to the antinausea drug. That’s not uncommon but it’s reassuring to know that in patients who’ve experienced this reaction there have been no long-term after-effects.’

Maggie could hear what Dr McMahon was telling her—Juliet would be fine—but she’d had a sense of unease about this surgery from the beginning and now she wondered what else could go wrong. She hadn’t been convinced that Juliet had needed this surgery but it hadn’t been her decision and there’d been no way of stopping Juliet once she’d made up her mind. That had been the case their whole lives. Juliet didn’t wait for other people to make her decisions. She didn’t leave it up to fate either. Juliet did what Juliet wanted and when.

This operation was a perfect example, Maggie thought. Juliet had been diagnosed with breast cancer twelve months ago. She’d undergone a bilateral mastectomy even though the cancer had been in one breast only. When she found out that, due to a faulty gene, she had a high chance of getting cancer in her other breast she’d very quickly decided to have both removed. Now she had just completed the first step of breast reconstruction. Maggie hadn’t seen the point of a reconstruction but, as Juliet had pointed out, it wasn’t her body, and Juliet had been adamant that was what she was going to do. And now it had nearly killed her.

Maggie had always thought the surgery unnecessary and now it had almost cost Juliet her life. A life she’d fought so desperately to save just twelve months earlier. Maggie sighed, knowing that even this latest drama wouldn’t stop Juliet from going after what she wanted.

‘Are you OK?’

Dr McMahon’s hand on her arm startled Maggie out of her reverie. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. She lifted her head. He was looking at her with concern. Worried she was about to collapse too? She was quite OK. The only thing upsetting her equilibrium was Dr McMahon—he was seriously gorgeous and sitting far too close. She just remembered to nod in reply to his question even as she registered that his eyes were the exact same blue as his theatre scrubs.

‘Come with me—I’ll take you in to see for yourself. She’s going to be fine. Trust me.’

And for some reason she couldn’t explain, Maggie did trust this man. This man she’d only just met. Somehow she believed if he said everything would be fine, it would be.

She followed him along the corridor, back to Recovery. His back filled her field of vision. He was more than six foot by a couple of inches, Maggie guessed, solidly built, not fat but fit. He filled out his scrubs nicely—broad shoulders, narrower hips with his trousers tied loosely around them. Maggie was well aware just how unflattering theatre clothes could be but somehow, despite this, he managed to pull off the look. Some people would look good in a sack and Maggie suspected this man was one them. He could be a poster boy for tall, dark and handsome men.

Maggie stayed beside her sister, keeping one eye on the monitors that displayed her blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen levels, and one eye on the gentle rise and fall of the sheets as Juliet breathed in and out. Ben had been telling the truth—Juliet seemed fine. There was nothing for Maggie to do except watch. Watch and think. She thought about the past two years, about what Juliet had been through, but she also thought about Dr Ben McMahon. He’d left Recovery after checking on Juliet’s status but Maggie could very easily recall his turquoise gaze and his calm and confident aura. She was glad he’d been there; she felt reassured.

She stayed until she was sure Juliet was OK, until she was certain she could go home and tell Juliet’s children their mother was fine.

Maggie felt as though she’d barely slept for two nights. She was staying at Juliet’s house to look after the children but they were unsettled and missing their mother and Maggie’s nerves were stretched. She was tired and stressed, worried about her sister’s recovery. Each time she woke during the night she rang the hospital to check on Juliet. Her recovery had been unremarkable and, just as Dr McMahon had predicted, there’d been no more dramas and everything seemed back to normal.

Juliet was expecting to be discharged today. She’d asked Maggie to get to the hospital as early as possible, anticipating going home. She was obviously feeling better—she was certainly pushing to be discharged—but nothing much had ever slowed Juliet down.

Maggie had just managed to get Juliet’s children ready and to school on time before she returned to the hospital. She’d showered but hadn’t had time to wash her hair. She’d pulled it back into a ponytail and thrown on a pair of old jeans and a jumper but no make-up. She thought she probably looked worse than Juliet.

Juliet had been moved out of HDU into a private room after twenty-four hours but she’d spent most of yesterday sleeping and she looked surprisingly good. I do look worse than her, Maggie decided.

She walked over to the bed, leaning over to kiss Juliet’s cheek. ‘Hi. How are you feeling?’

‘A bit tired and sore but otherwise fine, surprisingly enough.’

‘Ready to go home, do you think?’

‘Definitely. I’m just waiting for the surgeon to come and discharge me.’

That would be Ben. Maggie’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. She hadn’t seen him yesterday when she’d visited Juliet, but she didn’t want to admit she’d felt disappointed. ‘Did he explain to you what happened?’

‘They think I had a reaction to the antinausea drug but there don’t seem to be any ongoing problems and they certainly don’t seem to be expecting any,’ Juliet replied.

‘Do you remember anything? Were you scared?’

Juliet shook her head. ‘Not at all. It was the strangest experience though. It was just like I’ve heard people describe it. The light. That floating sensation. How safe you feel. Everything.’ She paused and then continued. ‘Steven was there.’

‘My Steven?’

Juliet nodded.

‘Did you see him?’ Maggie didn’t doubt her sister’s recollection. Maggie was a theatre nurse; she’d heard plenty of these tales before, too many for her to rule them all out as nonsense.

‘No, I couldn’t see anything up there. The light was beautiful but it concealed everything. I could look down, I could see the operating theatre, I could see myself—but I couldn’t see Steven. I just heard him.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He told me it wasn’t my time. He sent me back. Told me my babies needed me.’ Juliet paused. ‘Do I sound crazy?’

Maggie shook her head. ‘I’ve had patients tell me similar things before,’ she answered honestly. ‘Did Steven say anything to me?’

The question was out before she could wonder why she’d even asked it.

What was she hoping to hear? Did she want a message or not? Would it matter either way?

When Steven first passed away Maggie would have given anything for one more chance just to touch him, one more chance to have him hold her, one more chance to hear him whisper her name. But that had been ten years ago and she’d come to terms with her loss. Even though she hadn’t found anyone to take Steven’s place his absence was no longer a gaping hole in her life—it was just a part of her. A part of her she’d become used to living with.

So why had she asked the question?

Curiosity, she decided. That was the answer.

Juliet shook her head. ‘No, sorry, Mags.’

She shrugged; it didn’t matter. What had she expected him to say? Only what she imagined she’d want to hear. ‘Be happy. I miss you. I love you’?

Did she still love him? She loved him but she couldn’t still be in love with someone who’d been dead for ten years. That wasn’t realistic. It didn’t matter that there’d been no message. A message wouldn’t change the fact that she was a widow and her life had moved on.

She picked up the chart at the end of the bed and flicked through it, looking for a change in topic. The monitors said Juliet was fine and the charts agreed. The medical staff had checked and double-checked everything and there was nothing untoward going on. Nothing that required further discussion.

‘Morning, ladies.’

Maggie looked up from the chart at the sound of Ben’s voice. It was rich and deep and she could feel it reverberate through her body. She hurriedly replaced the chart only to realize he was focused on Juliet and apparently not at all concerned about her activities. She silently reprimanded herself for being so foolish. Just because she felt a spark of attraction didn’t mean anything. He was obviously just a man doing his job.

‘Juliet, how are you?’ he asked.

‘Great. Packed and ready to go home. Ben, this is my sister, Maggie.’

‘Yes, we met.’ He glanced in her direction before returning his attention to Juliet. His focus was definitely on his patient, and Maggie swallowed her pride. ‘How’s your chest?’

‘A bit sore but better than yesterday, and otherwise I’m fine.’

Maggie stepped away from the bed, giving Ben space to examine Juliet. She thought putting some distance between them would give her a chance to recover her nerve but all she did was stand there and study him while his attention was focused elsewhere.

His thick dark hair was cut short but it looked as though it would curl if left to grow longer. His jaw was square and firm, perfectly symmetrical. He smiled at something Juliet said and creases appeared in the corners of his eyes. He was leaning over Juliet now, checking her wounds, and his trousers moulded around his buttocks. Maggie felt herself blush and quickly moved her attention a bit higher, away from temptation. From behind him she couldn’t see his eyes but she remembered the colour—turquoise blue.

She noticed a few flecks of silver in his hair and guessed him to be in his late thirties or early forties, about her age. The silver did nothing to detract from his looks—he really was gorgeous. But, she supposed, given that he was a plastic surgeon, he should be gorgeous. She wondered if he’d had any work done.

He’d finished examining Juliet and was standing in profile now; this allowed Maggie to study his nose, which, for the record, was a perfect Roman nose, narrow and straight. He turned to face her. ‘Is something wrong?’

Had he felt her staring at him? Normally she would have blushed and looked away—normally she would be mortified to have someone catch her staring—but she found herself unable, or unwilling, to break his gaze.

‘Your nose.’

Ben reached up, rubbing his nose with one hand as if expecting to find something distasteful there. ‘Is that better?’ he asked.

‘No, no, there wasn’t anything wrong with your nose—that was what I was wondering, whether you’d had it fixed.’

‘Maggie!’ Juliet exclaimed.

‘What?’ Maggie looked at her sister, relieved to find she was actually able to break Ben’s gaze after all.

‘You can’t ask that.’

‘Why not? If I can’t ask a plastic surgeon about plastic surgery, who can I ask? Besides, you know I’ve always hated my nose so if I see a nice nose and I find out it’s been surgically assisted I might consider getting my own done.’

‘Thank you,’ Ben responded. ‘I think that was a compliment, but my nose is one hundred per cent natural, sorry.’

Maggie looked back at him. He was smiling at her, and she immediately forgot what she’d been talking about. If he was gorgeous before, he was now twice as gorgeous. His teeth were perfect, straight and white—what she always thought of as American teeth, the sort all sitcom actors had—but when he smiled she could see a streak of mischief in him that you wouldn’t have noticed at first. Not smiling, he was the epitome of a clean-cut, college-educated Aussie male, but when he smiled, she knew he wasn’t as wholesome as he first appeared. There was more to him than met the eye—he had a definite larrikin streak, which by no means diminished his appeal. If anything, it made her wonder even more about him. What was he thinking about that could make him smile like that?

His blue eyes sparkled. ‘Just out of interest, what’s wrong with your nose?’

Maggie touched the bridge of her nose. ‘I hate this bump in the middle.’

‘That’s a hard thing to guarantee to fix, you know. Think of it as giving you individuality.’ Ben delivered his verdict with a wink before turning his attention back to Juliet.

Maggie stood, stuck to the spot as strange sensations flooded through her. This man was disturbing her equilibrium in a major way.

She’d met plenty of attractive, intelligent men in her time but Ben seemed so down-to-earth, with no signs of an overinflated ego. He seemed normal, charming. Or at least he was charming her! But it didn’t seem deliberate on his part. It seemed natural. And Maggie was definitely not immune. Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking; her pulse was racing. She put a hand to her stomach, trying to settle her nerves. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself.

‘So, can I go home? Maggie’s a nurse—I’ll be in good hands.’

Hearing her name brought her attention back to the matter at hand, getting Juliet home. She realized she’d missed most of Ben and Juliet’s conversation as she’d tried to get her wayward thoughts under control.

Ben addressed her now. ‘That’s right—you told me that the other day, didn’t you? What sort of nurse?’

‘I work in Theatre.’

‘Can you handle patients who are conscious?’ Ben’s accompanying smile made Maggie’s skin tingle. It was the strangest sensation, as if her skin had a life and mind of its own.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, smiling back at him, or at least hoping she was smiling and not grinning like a half-crazed woman.

Ben turned his focus back to Juliet. ‘In that case I’ll discharge you and see you in a fortnight. Have you got your appointment?’ Juliet nodded and Ben continued. ‘Any concerns, ring me. And remember, no heavy lifting or strenuous housework—that includes shopping for groceries and hanging up washing.’

Both sisters watched him leave the room and once he was supposedly out of earshot Juliet spoke up.

‘Told you he was fabulous, didn’t I?’

Had she? Maggie couldn’t remember. She’d be surprised if Juliet hadn’t said something—it wasn’t every day you came across someone as striking as Ben—but she could barely remember right now what her own name was let alone whether Juliet had mentioned her handsome plastic surgeon. Silently she did agree that he seemed fabulous but she wasn’t sure whether her mind was really processing things properly so she chose to keep her own counsel.

‘Pity he’s my specialist,’ Juliet continued talking, apparently unaware that Maggie hadn’t answered her.

‘You wouldn’t!’ Maggie gasped.

‘Wouldn’t what? Jump into bed with him if I got the chance?’ Juliet laughed. ‘’Course I would. I’m divorced, not dead. I’ve survived twice now, first breast cancer and then being brought back from death’s door two days ago, and I intend to make the most of being alive. Just wait until I get my new boobs—there’s more life in this old girl and I intend to enjoy some of it.’

Maggie laughed but also wondered what Juliet would say if she told her that was exactly how she felt!

Her first response hadn’t been wrong—Ben was seriously attractive, and she definitely wasn’t immune to his physical qualities. The small space of Juliet’s hospital room hadn’t been able to contain his energy and charisma, and Maggie was just as aware of his appeal today as she had been two days earlier. But, while she could appreciate Ben’s attributes, unlike Juliet, she couldn’t imagine being with him any more than she was sure he could imagine being with her.

As much as she’d consider the idea in theory she couldn’t imagine it ever eventuating in real life. What would a gorgeous, successful, charming man who, she imagined, could have any woman he wanted see in her—a skinny, forty-two-year-old widow with a flat chest and a bump in her nose!

Chapter Two

THE next fortnight passed in a blur for Maggie. Despite Juliet’s insistence that she felt one hundred per cent well Maggie knew she was still far from fully recovered. Juliet’s ex-husband was away on a training exercise with the Australian navy and being a single mother was hard enough when you were fit and healthy, let alone when you were recovering from surgery. Maggie understood that and it was why she was in Melbourne, to take some of the pressure off her sister. Juliet’s children were at school but it was their extra-curricular activities that had Maggie run off her feet, and by the time nine-year-old Kate and six-year-old Edward were in bed Maggie was looking forward to putting her feet up and enjoying a glass of wine. Maggie’s niece and nephew were a lot younger than her own children and she’d forgotten how much time got eaten up just doing the basics for a young family. She’d forgotten how exhausting it could be.

‘Here’s to tomorrow, the start of my new life.’ Juliet raised her wine glass in a toast to the future and waited for Maggie to join her. As Maggie’s glass clinked against hers Juliet went on. ‘And here’s to a fresh start for you too.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve discovered there’s nothing like coming face to face with your own mortality to make one stop and assess their life. There’re still so many things I want to see and do so I’m putting the past two years behind me and putting my energy into my future.’ Juliet sipped her wine. ‘But thinking about my future got me wondering about yours too. I’ve been trying to work out where you’re headed as well.’

‘I’m not sure I’m headed anywhere.’

‘That’s my point,’ Juliet replied. ‘You should be. I think you need to take stock of your life too. I think everyone should. We should all have a five- or ten-year plan.’

‘What ten-year plan?’

‘The one we’re going to work out tonight. Your kids are adults now and they’ll be busy with their own lives. You should have a list of a thousand things you’ve always wanted to do but never had time for. Now’s your chance to start on that list—you just have to work out what to do first.’

‘I’ve been thinking about doing some courses, taking up a hobby,’ Maggie admitted.

Juliet snickered.

‘What?’ Maggie asked.

‘I was thinking more of long-term things, more about your life for the foreseeable future, not just the next few months.’

‘You asked what was on my list.’

‘Maybe I should have been more specific. Who do you want to do those things with? You’re forty-two—you could potentially live for another forty years. You’re not going to spend those years alone, are you?’

Juliet must be feeling better, Maggie decided; she was back to her bossy self! ‘You could be in the same position, you know. Merry widow, gay divorcée—either way we’re both single,’ she retorted.

‘Don’t think I haven’t thought about that,’ Juliet said. ‘Leaving Sam was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done but I haven’t accepted that I’ll never find love again. And I hate to think of you spending the rest of your life alone.’

‘I thought I could move in with you. Once your kids have flown the nest we could be two old-maid sisters living out their last days in peace and quiet,’ Maggie joked.

‘Speak for yourself—I don’t intend to spend my twilight years alone. It’s too soon for me but I think you need to start dating.’

‘I’ve been on dates.’

‘When was your last date?’ Juliet asked.

‘Just before I came down to Melbourne.’

‘How many third dates have you had?’

Maggie was silent—third dates were few and far between. Most of the time a second date was as far as things went before she decided there was no chemistry, attraction or even the possibility of intelligent conversation and called it quits.

‘Thought so,’ Juliet responded, interpreting her silence. ‘And when was the last time you had sex?’

‘I don’t remember.’

Juliet threw her hands up into the air, almost spilling her wine in the process. ‘That’s my point exactly—you should remember. It should have been recent and it should have been fantastic. You need to get out more.’

Maggie twirled her wine glass in her hands. ‘Do you want to know why I don’t date? For the first twelve months after Steven died no one knew what to do with me. I didn’t get invited anywhere. Everyone assumed I needed time to deal with my grief but what they didn’t realize was that the lack of invitations meant I had more time than I knew what to do with, more time to think about what I’d lost. When I finally got invited out again I got the feeling that half the women thought I’d be after their husbands. It made me uncomfortable. It was easier not to go to some things.’

‘Don’t you meet people at work?’

‘I don’t want to date people from work,’ Maggie replied. ‘It’s too complicated.’

‘What about people you meet through work?’

‘Like who? Patients?’ She laughed. ‘I work in Theatre, remember? I only see patients for a few minutes before they go under anaesthetic and then they’re off to Recovery before they really wake up. Not much opportunity to start chatting, other than telling them to count backwards from twenty!’ Maggie shook her head. ‘I’m not against the idea of romance or even a simple roll in the hay but in my opinion dating takes too much effort. A hobby would be much easier.’

‘Back to that!’ Juliet sighed. ‘You know you don’t necessarily have to date if all you want is a bit of romp.’

But that wasn’t really how Maggie operated. She knew she was someone who wanted the whole experience—attraction, romance, a strong connection both emotionally and physically. That was exactly why she was still on her own, why she didn’t often go on third dates. She was still waiting for the perfect man to sweep her off her feet, just as Steven had done more than twenty years ago. But was Juliet right? Was she being too fussy? Was she looking at spending the next forty years alone?

Working and being a sole parent for the past ten years had drained her, but when she thought of Juliet’s life hers seemed blessed in comparison. Juliet had been through a divorce, a malignant breast lump, chemotherapy, a double mastectomy and then a near-death experience. Just one of those things would be more than most people could cope with, Maggie thought, let alone all of them.

‘You deserve to have some fun after the past two years you’ve had,’ she said to Juliet.

‘What about you? Don’t you want to have fun?’

‘I’m happy as I am.’ Was that true? What was her definition of happy? Her own children made her happy—most of the time, she thought with a smile. Her extended family. Her work. But was that enough?

‘Don’t you think you could be happier?’ Juliet wanted to know.

Maggie shrugged. She wasn’t sure this was a conversation she wanted to have.

But Juliet wasn’t finished yet. ‘I have a suggestion for you. I know you’ve come to Melbourne to help me but you don’t need to stay home twenty-four hours a day on my account. If I can introduce you to some decent single men, would you go out on a date?’

‘Why?’

‘Because you might have fun! I’m not ready to get out and about yet but that doesn’t mean we both have to sit at home. I’m quite happy to live vicariously through you for the time being. Nobody in Melbourne knows you and your story—it’s a good chance to relax and enjoy yourself.’

‘Who are these single men you have in mind?’ Maggie wasn’t about to agree to Juliet’s plans without more information.

‘You can choose.’

‘Me?’

Juliet nodded. ‘I know a few single men. Besides, I have an ulterior motive. If I can find you someone perfect you might end up staying in Melbourne, close to me,’ she said with a grin.

‘Why am I not surprised?’ Maggie said. ‘There’s always a grand plan with you!’

‘Tell me your idea of a perfect man and I’ll see what I can do,’ Juliet prompted.

Maggie decided she really didn’t have anything to lose by agreeing to Juliet’s plan. If nothing else, it would keep Juliet off her back, and Maggie had learned a long time ago that letting Juliet think she was winning a battle was one way of ensuring a quiet life. So what would her perfect man look like these days?

Tall and solid, but fit rather than fat. A protector. Someone dependable. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Turquoise blue. An image of Ben McMahon flashed before Maggie’s eyes. Tall, dark, gorgeous and obviously intelligent—was it any surprise he sprang to mind?

‘Who is it?’ Juliet badgered. ‘You must have someone in mind—you’re daydreaming.’

‘I don’t know if he’s perfect—he seems too good to be true.’

‘Sounds interesting. Who?’

‘Ben McMahon.’

‘Mmm. Good choice. He’s pretty close to perfect. Smart, sexy and single.’

‘Single?’ She hadn’t actually expected him to be single. ‘So that’s what’s wrong with him.’ Maggie sighed.

‘What?’

‘He’s gay.’

Juliet laughed. ‘Not as far as I know but why don’t you test that theory?’

‘How?’

‘Ask him out.’

‘Hang on a minute—I thought you were finding me a date.’

‘He wasn’t on my list,’ Juliet argued, ‘but I’m sure we can work something out. Why don’t you try flirting with him at my appointment tomorrow, then we’ll find out if he’s interested.’

Maggie got embarrassed at the thought of flirting with Ben. She couldn’t possibly do it for real without making a complete spectacle of herself, could she?

‘Are you sure he’s not married?’ she clarified. That would be too humiliating and just her luck.

‘Trust me, he’s single and he’s straight.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He’s always in the social pages—his family is Melbourne high society—and he’s always with a different woman in every photo. I’m sure that’s not just camouflage, and if he had a wife I’m certain she wouldn’t be putting up with that!’

‘What do you mean, ‘high society’?’ Maggie’s curiosity was piqued.

‘His father’s family owns a publishing company and his mother runs the McMahon Foundation. Even in Sydney you would have heard of them, surely?’

‘He’s one of those McMahons?’

Juliet nodded and Maggie felt sick at the thought of trying to have a normal conversation with Ben now, let alone flirt with the man. He would have women throwing themselves at him at every opportunity, and she didn’t want to put herself in that same category. ‘I don’t know. He’s way out of my league.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, you need to stop thinking like that right now. You’re good enough for anyone. Besides, I’m only asking you to flirt with the guy—he doesn’t need to propose.’

But appreciating a fine example when it crossed her path was one thing; drawing attention to herself was another thing entirely.

As she rinsed out the wine glasses and got ready for bed she reflected on what she’d just agreed to. Juliet wanted to have fun; Maggie wanted to be happy.

She didn’t want to be lonely but she very much doubted that Ben McMahon held the key to her happiness. She shrugged her shoulders. She supposed she had nothing to lose by flirting a little. What was the worst that could happen?

Maggie hesitated over applying make-up the next morning as she got ready to take Juliet for her first post-op appointment with Dr McMahon. Ben.

She wasn’t as completely out of practice as Juliet might think. It had been years after Steven had died before she’d even contemplated dating but she had been on a few dates in the past five years. It was just that she hadn’t enjoyed them particularly. When that was the case she couldn’t see the point of continuing to date, of waiting to see if she ‘grew to like them’. She knew she wouldn’t, so while she had dated, it could certainly be said she hadn’t had a proper relationship since Steven had died.

She reminded herself that the aim of today wasn’t to get Ben to ask her out on a date; she just needed to make a little light conversation, just to show she was trying. She didn’t necessarily want to draw attention to herself but she decided a bit of make-up might help her feel more in control of the situation.

Her hand shook as she tried to apply her lipgloss. She was as nervous as she could ever remember being. All because she was supposed to flirt with a gorgeous man! She ignored the eyeshadow, thinking it would be overkill for a morning appointment, and just put some eye drops into her eyes to dull any traces of red. She brushed her dark hair until it shone and debated over whether to tie it up but in the end she left it down, falling over her shoulders. The brushstrokes were relaxing but she was still terrified she’d embarrass herself despite Juliet’s assurances that men would either be flattered by, or ignorant of, her methods.

Maybe if she failed spectacularly Juliet would let her off the hook. She thought she might prefer being lonely to being terrified.

But she needed to at least look as though she was trying. And she was still a woman—she still wanted to see if she could catch a man’s eye, even if she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do next. Everyone’s ego needed a boost now and then; she wasn’t really any different to the next person. She decided to make an effort.

She searched through her clothes looking for a bra that wasn’t more than three years old and that managed to lift her boobs back up to somewhere close to where they used to be. She pulled a dress out of the wardrobe, holding it in front of her—too fancy for a doctor’s appointment she decided. Jeans? Too casual. She swapped the jeans for a skirt that gave a little bit of shape to her boyish figure and put on a fitted T-shirt—white—to make it look as if her boobs were bigger than they really were. That looked better. Finally she was ready.

Maggie sat in the waiting room, convinced everyone could hear her heart hammering in her chest. She wiped her clammy hands on her skirt and looked for something to distract her.

‘What do you think of these?’

Maggie glanced at the photograph in the magazine her sister was holding.

‘Pamela Anderson! Is that what you chose?’ Maggie knew her younger sister had gotten the flamboyant gene whereas she’d inherited the conservative one but, even so, she hadn’t expected her to choose to be quite so out there. ‘You’re not serious! I thought you wanted to look like the old you?’

Juliet grinned at her. ‘You’re right, classy, not brassy. I picked out boobs that look more like Kate Winslet’s.’ Juliet turned back a page and showed Maggie another photo.

‘Huh!’

‘What?’ Juliet asked.

‘I didn’t realise when you said the “old you,” you really meant the “young you.” Kate’s boobs look like yours did in your teens, not what they looked like in your thirties after a couple of kids!’ Maggie couldn’t resist teasing her sister; some light-hearted banter was just what she needed to distract her from Juliet’s ‘mission.’

‘You think her boobs are too good for me?’

‘Not at all, it’s just that they’re not at all saggy.’

Juliet took the magazine back and had another look at the photo, her forehead creasing a little as she studied it. ‘Why is that, do you think? She’s had two kids as well.’ She paused, tilting her head slightly to one side. ‘Could be a flattering angle or a good bra.’

‘Or she could have had work done,’ Maggie said.

‘That does it, I’m definitely getting boobs like hers, then—particularly if they look natural and they’re not! Not much point in saggy new boobs.’

Maggie glanced down at her own chest. She’d never been more than a B-cup and she’d never considered being anything else—as long as everything worked, that was all that mattered, as far as she was concerned. But even though she wasn’t about to change her own body, which had served her well for forty-two years, she could see Juliet’s point. ‘I suppose, if you’re going to have a breast reconstruction, you might as well get what you want.’

‘My thoughts exactly.’ Juliet chuckled.

‘Come through, Juliet.’ Ben appeared in the waiting room and Maggie was surprised by the pull of attraction she felt. He was wearing a white shirt with no tie; his collar was open at his throat, and as Maggie stood she could see a smattering of dark hair below his collarbones. ‘You sound in good spirits.’

‘Just showing Maggie which boobs I’ve ordered.’ Juliet gestured towards her sister. ‘You remember Maggie, don’t you?’

‘Of course. Are you feeling the pressure of providing a second opinion?’ His eyes met hers, holding her attention. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her go weak at the knees. She got the feeling he could read her mind, could see into her soul. Her heartbeat increased its pace.

She couldn’t do this! She knew she’d get flustered and make a fool of herself. There was an energy that surrounded him, and she was much too attracted to him to flirt comfortably. In the two weeks since she’d seen him she’d forgotten just how good-looking he was.

But he was waiting for her response. She said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Someone had to make sure Juliet didn’t end up looking like Pamela Anderson.’ She went for levity in her reply in an attempt to break the spell Ben seemed to have over her. If she could crack a joke maybe she’d be able to breathe again and maybe her heart would be able to return to its normal rhythm.

So far, so good. Her voice sounded normal, no squeaks or breathlessness.

He smiled. There was a definite sparkle in his eyes and that was all it took for her heart to start racing again. ‘That was an option?’ he asked as he led them through to his office.

She answered quickly while his back was turned, before he had another opportunity to throw her off kilter. ‘Not for long!’

‘Don’t tell fibs, Mags,’ Juliet said as she sat in one of the chairs in front of Ben’s desk and placed the magazine on the table, tapping a photograph. ‘I’d like to look like Kate Winslet, please.’

Ben picked up the magazine. ‘Kate Winslet? What do you think, Maggie?’ He lifted his gaze to hers, his blue eyes focusing on her and making her stomach somersault. If he kept looking at her like that she’d never be able to answer.

She tore her gaze away, concentrating on the photograph. ‘Far more suitable than Pamela,’ she replied.

‘Pamela might have been fun though,’ Juliet said.

‘I’m sure you’d find those boobs more annoying than fun after a while, not to mention the backache.’ That was better. She should concentrate on Juliet; she could talk to her like a normal person!

‘Oh, Mags, you’re such a sensible older sister.’

‘Be nice or I’ll get Ben to give you the saggy version of Kate.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’

Maggie stuck out her tongue and Ben laughed. The sound washed over Maggie. She’d made him laugh and it was the nicest sound she’d heard in a long time. Deep and rich, he laughed like a man who enjoyed himself, like a man who laughed often and easily.

‘Sorry, girls, I’d prefer not to do saggy and I wouldn’t give Juliet “Pammy” breasts either. Neither option would be good for my reputation.’

Ben’s comment took Maggie by surprise. She thought all men would choose Pamela Anderson if they got the chance. And he looked as if he’d prefer American-type women. Blonde, blue-eyed, white teeth and big boobs—cheerleaders.

What was she doing? Why was she even considering what type of women he’d like? His taste in women was of no concern to her, although she’d bet his taste didn’t lean towards skinny, small-breasted, brunette Aussie women!

Stop it—who cares? she thought, knowing, even as she asked herself the question, that she did.

This flirting thing was going to end in disaster unless she got her hormones under control.

Ben was talking to Juliet now, the consultation under way, leaving Maggie time to settle her nerves. ‘A good C-cup will suit you perfectly Juliet, as we’ve discussed. That’s assuming the tissue expander stretches enough over the next few weeks to allow me to put C-cup implants in. Have you had any soreness or noticed any redness over the past few days?’

‘No, everything’s settled down well.’

‘Excellent. If you’re ready to get started I’ll get you to go behind the screen, slip your shirt off and lie down on the bed. There’s a sheet there to put over you.’

Juliet disappeared behind the privacy screen, and Ben went to the sink to wash his hands before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves.

Maggie could hear him explaining the process to Juliet as he worked. She listened to him while she studied his office.

‘Everything looks good. I’m planning to inject about ninety millilitres of saline into the tissue expander today if I can. Remember, the whole process will take six to eight weeks as each injection stretches the expander a little more until we can replace it with the implants. How many weeks exactly will depend on how easily your skin stretches.’

Maggie scanned the artwork on the walls. There had been a definite African theme to the pictures in the waiting room and that continued in Ben’s office where several stunning photographs were displayed on the walls. She told herself she was interested in the photos for art’s sake but she knew the truth. The truth was she was looking for clues about Ben, about his life outside of work. She was snooping. But the artwork told her nothing except that he seemed to have an interest in Africa.

‘I’ll do the left side first. It won’t hurt—there are no nerve endings so you won’t feel the saline going in. It goes straight into the expander through the skin valve. You might feel a little stretching but that should be about it.’

Maggie’s gaze travelled to the desk. There were a few pieces of African art—sculptures and the like on his desk and bookshelf—but no photos, particularly no photos that could be of a wife, or ex-wife, and children.

So Juliet was right…Ben was single?

‘OK, almost done. You might find it gets a little uncomfortable over the next twenty-four hours or so as the muscles stretch. Take some mild analgesics if you need to.’

Maggie heard Ben snap his gloves off and then he reappeared from behind the privacy screen.

‘Are you able to help Juliet for the next twenty-four hours, Maggie? I’d like her to avoid driving, heavy lifting and raising her arms above chest height for the next day, just to help prevent any additional soreness.’

‘Yes, I’m still staying at her house.’

‘Great,’ he said as Juliet joined them in front of the screen. ‘I’ll see you both next Friday, then?’

‘Definitely,’ Juliet said, jumping in before Maggie had a chance to reply.

Ben opened the door for them but didn’t follow them out.

‘There you go—that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Juliet asked as they returned to the reception desk to confirm her remaining appointments. ‘And he sounds like he’s looking forward to seeing you next week too.’

‘I’m sure he’s just making polite conversation.’

‘Time will tell,’ Juliet said with a grin.

Maggie sensed she had more to add but fortunately they were now back in the waiting area and Juliet seemed to decide not to share her opinion with the rest of Ben’s patients, or his staff. But Juliet’s comment got Maggie thinking as she waited for the receptionist to confirm the next appointment—did she want Ben’s remark to be genuine? She was sure it had been said with sincerity—she didn’t doubt that—but did she want him to be looking forward to seeing her again specifically? That thought made her equally nervous and excited and she found herself replaying his words many times over the course of the evening before finally deciding it was what it was—a polite comment with no hidden agenda! As much as she hated to admit it, disappointment accompanied that realisation.

Chapter Three

IT WAS a busy Saturday morning in Hawthorn and Maggie was feeling a little frazzled after trying to find a car park around Glenferrie Oval, where vacant spots were as rare as the proverbial hen’s teeth.

‘OK, champ, let’s get in the line to hand in your registration,’ she said to Edward as they joined the queue stretching around the perimeter of the oval.

It was her nephew’s first football-coaching clinic and Maggie had offered to bring him as Juliet was still feeling tender and sore following the tissue expander procedure the day before.

There seemed to be hundreds of six-year-olds running amok all over the oval and dozens of footballs were whizzing through the air in all directions. The grass was a mass of brown and gold as most children were wearing miniature versions of the local football team’s tops.

‘Can you do it, Auntie Maggie? My friends are over there kicking the footy.’ Edward pointed across the oval and looked up at her with his best pleading expression.

What should she do? If it were her own child she’d say yes in a flash but Maggie didn’t know Edward’s friends and didn’t really know what today’s procedure was.

‘Please?’ he begged.

‘Which friends?’

‘Jake and Rory.’ He pointed at a group of children, all in brown-and-yellow football jerseys. Maggie couldn’t tell one from the other, but she remembered meeting one of Juliet’s friends, Anna, who had a son called Jake. She could only assume that was who Edward was talking about.

The oval was fenced and Edward didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he seemed rather keen to run off. Maggie shrugged. ‘I guess that’s all right but just listen when they call you in for the start of the session, OK? I’ll sit in the grandstand and watch.’

Edward nodded his head and disappeared, leaving Maggie to stand in line to register before she could make her way to the old grandstand.

‘Morning, Maggie.’

She had just sat down in the front row of the grandstand where she could bask in the autumn sun when she heard the greeting. She hadn’t expected anyone to recognise her here. She certainly hadn’t expected to know anyone herself, but that voice was instantly recognisable.

‘Ben! What are you doing here?’ A thousand questions raced through Maggie’s mind in the space of a few short seconds. The questions seemed to be keeping time with her heartbeat. And as quickly as her heart had begun racing it stopped and sank in her chest as she realised why he was here. ‘Do you have children here?’

He shook his head. ‘A nephew. You?’

Her heart leapt back up to its rightful spot. ‘Same. I brought Juliet’s son.’

‘Are you staying to watch the session?’ he asked and when Maggie nodded he continued. ‘Can I get you a coffee? I was just on my way for one.’

A warm glow spread through her. She wouldn’t say no to Ben’s company. Juliet’s plan sprang to mind and while she certainly couldn’t call this a date it did involve striking up a conversation. Who knew, maybe she could flirt with him. And let’s face it, she told herself, if she couldn’t flirt with someone who literally made her toes curl with desire there wasn’t much hope for her, was there?

‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

‘Cappuccino, latte, flat white?’

‘You don’t suppose they’d make a hot chocolate?’ she asked.

He smiled at her—yep, her toes were curling—and said, ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ before he headed off towards the coffee van.

‘One hot chocolate,’ he said on his return, handing her a takeaway cup and a paper bag, ‘and a blueberry muffin. I’m eating so I took a chance on your preference.’

Maggie peeked into the bag, ‘Looks great, thanks.’

‘Here, let me hold the muffin while you take the lid off your drink.’ Ben’s fingers brushed against her hand as he took the bag from her, and she almost dropped the cup when a trail of heat raced up her arm. Her hand shook as she removed the lid to allow her drink to cool down but Ben seemed oblivious to her sudden bout of nerves. ‘Which one is your nephew?’ he asked.

Maggie shielded her eyes with one hand as she sought out Edward. She’d left her sunglasses in the car. The day had started off grey and bleak, and she’d forgotten how rapidly Melbourne weather changed.

‘Is the sun bothering you? Did you want to move further back in the grandstand?’ Ben asked.

‘No. I’m enjoying the sun. I’m finding Melbourne mornings a bit chilly, to be honest. I need some sunshine to warm me up.’

‘Are you not from here?’

‘I’m from Sydney. I’ve just come down to help Juliet with the kids while she was having surgery.’

‘Did you grow up here or there?’

If she’d had a thousand questions when she’d first seen Ben this morning it seemed as though he had more! ‘Sydney, born and bred,’ she replied. ‘Juliet moved here with her ex-husband. He’s in the navy and she stayed when they split up. Kate, her daughter, was settled in school and Juliet figured that was easier than moving.’

‘How long are you here for?’

‘I’ve taken some long service leave and I might go back and forward a bit until she’s had the implants. It sort of depends on how she goes with the procedures.’ She held his gaze. ‘I guess it’s up to you a bit, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe I should take my time,’ he said. ‘Give you a chance to enjoy our hospitality.’ He smiled and his blue eyes sparkled, reminding her of the ocean on a sunny day.

She couldn’t believe it—was he flirting back? Maybe his farewell after Juliet’s appointment hadn’t been simply polite rhetoric? Before she had time to work that out Ben had moved on in the conversation.

‘Speaking of Juliet, how is she going?’

She decided she didn’t have the skills to work out whether or not Ben was flirting so she stuck to the script. ‘She’s a bit sore today. She says she feels as though she’s done too many push-ups, so I guess it’s muscular soreness she’s describing.’

‘She hasn’t had any other side effects?’

‘Physically or emotionally?’

‘Either.’

‘Not really. I expected her to be a bit tired from the surgery and the near-death experience but she seems to have bounced back with more energy than ever. She’s even more determined to make the most of every moment now. She’s been a bit like that since she finished chemo after the mastectomy but it’s more noticeable now. She would have come with me today except she’s taken her daughter to a ballet class.’ Ben opened his mouth to speak out but Maggie guessed what he was about to ask and added, ‘Don’t worry, she didn’t have to drive. It’s walking distance.’

‘So she doesn’t seem worried about what happened in Theatre?’

‘No, she seems fine, quite calm about the whole thing considering.’

‘Considering what?’

‘The fact she says she heard my husband’s voice.’

Husband? Ben’s eyes flicked to Maggie’s left hand. She was wearing a wedding ring. He’d noticed her; how had he not noticed her wedding ring?

‘Is it possible she could have heard him?’ His mind was buzzing but somehow he managed to formulate a reply.

She shrugged. ‘It’s not impossible. He died ten years ago.’

So she was widowed. Had she remarried? Was that why she was wearing a ring? Questions whirled around in his head. While newly single women were definitely fair game in his opinion, married women definitely were not. But when had he put Maggie in his sights? He knew the answer to that. Yesterday—when he’d spent too much time thinking about her when he should have been writing reports. He was supposed to have been entering details of Juliet’s procedure into her file but his mind had kept drifting, not aimlessly but rather definitely, to Maggie.

She was a stunning woman. As a plastic surgeon he was trained to notice bone structure and Maggie had a perfect oval face and fabulous cheekbones. Even the bump in the bridge of her nose, that she apparently hated, gave her face character. He’d been honest when he said he wouldn’t change it.

Her eyes were a startling blue, and as he looked into them now he could picture her in Theatre. Gowned, masked, capped—covered up except for her eyes. He wondered how the other staff kept focused.

He shook his head to clear his mind and ran back over the events in his theatre. He couldn’t remember everything—it had all happened very quickly—but some things were clear. ‘Was his name Steven?’

‘Yes.’ Maggie’s brow creased with concentration as she looked at him, or was it confusion? ‘How did you know that?’

‘When we’d revived her I asked her if she could hear me and she called me Steven. At least, I thought she was talking to me.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘She thinks she was talking to my husband.’

‘You’re a nurse, a theatre nurse, you said?’ He waited for her confirmation. ‘Do you think there’s something to these “near-death experiences,” for want of a better term?’

‘I’ve heard too many reports to be able to discount them completely.’

‘Really? You’ve had other patients report similar things? Firsthand experiences?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Three or four times, I reckon. And there have been plenty of similarities between them. The light, the feeling of peace and tranquillity, hearing loved ones.’

‘So what’s your opinion, then?’

‘I’ve often wondered about it, from both sides—the emotional and the physiological. I can see the scientists’ point of view—they say it’s all chemical reaction and nerve synapses—but when Juliet said she’d heard Steven’s voice, that all made sense too. But maybe she just confused someone else’s voice with his, maybe it was you she could hear. Do you remember what you said? If you can remember it could explain whether she heard you or not.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t remember anything specific, it was all rather frantic. I was more interested in trying to save her life than in paying attention to what I was saying. I would have been talking to her, trying to get her to hold on, but more than that I couldn’t say. I’ve never had one of my patients flatline before. I was more concerned about saving her.’

‘Well, I’m very glad you did. I don’t think I could bear to lose Juliet, not after all she’s been through.’ Maggie smiled at him as she spoke but her smile was tinged with sadness, and Ben knew she was thinking of more than just Juliet’s close call. Maggie had lost someone she loved before, and he wondered if she had found love again. ‘And, as for near-death experiences, I’d like to think they’re real.’

‘The white light and the voices…You think people are waiting to guide us to heaven?’

She shrugged her shoulders and her dark hair shone as the sunlight bounced off it showing up shades of red and gold amongst the predominantly dark waves. ‘I don’t know about heaven but I believe there’s another life waiting for us after this one. I think it’s likely to be very different but I need to believe there is something. Even if it’s just a place where souls can meet again. But that’s just my opinion. I’m still not sure if Juliet’s recollection gives any more weight to my theory.’

‘It’s a nice idea though.’

‘Yes, it is.’ Maggie’s eyes met his and for a moment neither of them spoke. He understood her need to believe in an afterlife, in whatever form it came. As a doctor he’d seen that belief get people through some horrendous situations. This sharing of opinions forged a connection between them that didn’t need words. He kept eye contact, amazed again at just how blue her eyes were, their unusual colour accentuated by her dark eyelashes. Other than the bump in her nose her features were remarkably symmetrical and gave her a slight ethereal quality.

‘Thank you for listening.’ Maggie put a hand on his arm. It was an unconscious gesture on her part—he’d swear she was completely unaware of the movement—but the touch of her palm on his bare forearm sent a surge of desire through him that took him by surprise.

She was an attractive woman—physically not more so than a dozen others he knew—but this spark that zipped through him was unusual. There had to be some scientific reason for it; in his mind there was a scientific reason for everything. Even near-death experiences, in his opinion, were simply a by-product of a person’s wiring. Not that he’d pushed that idea on Maggie; he’d been too interested in her thoughts. But chemistry between two people, two strangers, that was stuff of fiction. The spark must simply be due to ions in their bodies or the humidity in the air. Something simple. Something scientific.

‘Look what I got, Uncle Ben.’

An unexpected voice startled him. His nephew was standing in front of him, proudly displaying a bright yellow football and a backpack.

‘Rory! Has the clinic finished?’ He hadn’t noticed the session coming to an end.

‘Rory is your nephew?’ Maggie said. ‘My nephew Edward’s friend? Why didn’t you say something?’

He turned to Maggie—he must have missed some information along the way. ‘I didn’t know there was a connection,’ he admitted. ‘I know that my sister, Gabby, recommended me to Juliet but I didn’t think to ask how they knew each other. It must be through the boys’ school.’ He paused, wondering if this information gave him licence to take another step, before deciding there was only one way to find out. ‘We’re going to have a milkshake now, why don’t you join us?’

‘Thank you, we’d love to but we can’t. I made a deal with Juliet that if she wanted to walk Kate to ballet I’d pick her up afterwards. We’ll have to get going.’

That was OK—she hadn’t knocked him back. ‘Maybe next week, then.’

‘Will you be bringing Rory again?’

‘More than likely. My sister and her husband travel quite often for their business, and I help my parents out with Rory on weekends when I can.’

‘That’s very good of you.’

‘Not at all, I think I get more out of it than Rory. He’s great company.’

‘So, next Saturday, then?’ she said with a smile which he found ridiculously satisfying.

He nodded, pleased she seemed keen to join him, and as he watched her walking away, a slim figure in faded jeans, he tried again to work out what it was about her that appealed to him. He thought back over their conversation. She’d been very open and honest; he guessed there’d be no game playing with her. Perhaps that was her point of difference—she was genuine. Could it be that simple?

As he caught the last glimpse of her as she and Edward left the oval he realised he was already looking forward to next week. She intrigued him, he decided, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been able to say that about someone.

Maggie listened to Edward recount the morning’s activities to Juliet as she heated soup for lunch and prepared sandwiches. He didn’t mention Ben, but then why would he? Football had been the big attraction for him.

‘Was it as much fun as Edward thinks?’ Juliet asked her when she came into the kitchen. ‘It didn’t drag on for too long?’

‘Not at all,’ Maggie answered. The time had passed in the blink of an eye.

‘Did you have to help out?’

Maggie shook her head. ‘No, there were plenty of official helpers. It was pretty well organised.’

‘What did you do for an hour, then?’

‘Ben McMahon was there,’ Maggie said, hoping she sounded calm despite her sizzling nerves. ‘I chatted to him.’

Juliet squealed. ‘What did you talk about?’

My dead husband, Maggie thought, knowing that Juliet would have a fit if she admitted this had been a topic of conversation; that was surely a no-go zone in the ‘art of flirting.’ She decided to keep that to herself and went with, ‘This and that—the kids. Ben said that Rory’s parents are away—something to do with their work?’ She changed the subject.

‘I’d forgotten they’re interstate. They run a rather successful art gallery in St Kilda and they focus on indigenous art, Aboriginal and other cultures. They travel a lot.’ Juliet paused and Maggie could almost see the wheels turning in her head. ‘You should get Ben to show you their gallery.’

‘I think he’d have better things to do.’

‘You’ll never know until you ask.’

Maggie could have told Juliet then all about their conversation but she knew it was too complicated to explain how she’d immediately felt comfortable in Ben’s company. How it hadn’t felt strange to talk to Ben about Steven or about such a controversial subject as life after death and people’s perceptions of heaven.

Talking to Ben she’d felt as though her opinion mattered, as though it was worth something. She was an intensely private sort of person, much more so than Juliet, so to have such a revealing conversation with a virtual stranger must say something about Ben. Or maybe it said more about her feelings towards Ben, and she wasn’t ready to share those yet. Not even with Juliet.

Nor was she about to mention the plans for next weekend. She wanted to hug that to herself for a little longer. It felt too precious, and she knew that sharing the news would diminish that. So she just shrugged and concentrated on making lunch and steered the conversation back to Juliet’s morning and then onto their plans and schedule for the following week. It had been a while since her own children had depended on her for everything, and Maggie wanted to make sure she had a handle on what needed to happen in order for Juliet’s household to run smoothly. The kids had had enough upheaval, and Maggie wanted to make things easy for everyone. Focusing on what everyone else needed also meant she didn’t have time to examine her own feelings too closely.

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