“Thanks for letting me borrow you, Rick.

“You convinced everyone at the party that you were my boyfriend.”

They were neighbors, nothing more, she reminded herself. Rick wasn’t looking for a meaningful relationship. And she certainly didn’t want to become involved with another man hot on the heels of her disastrous engagement. So why did she feel an intense longing to throw herself into his arms?

His voice cut into her thoughts. “It’s a pity that I can only lend myself out for this all too brief evening,” he said carefully. “You know that’s how it’s got to be, don’t you, Maddy?” His eyes were fixed intently on hers. “My job doesn’t leave much space for romantic relationships.”

She closed her eyes and tried to banish the memory of dancing in his arms. “I totally understand that you want to be a professional bachelor, Rick.” Silence filled the space around them.

“That was my plan,” he muttered eventually.

Barbara Hannay was born in Sydney, educated in Brisbane and has spent most of her adult life living in tropical North Queensland, where she and her husband have raised four children. While she has enjoyed many happy times camping and canoeing in the bush, she also delights in an urban lifestyle—chamber music, contemporary dance, movies and dining out. An English teacher, she has always loved writing, and now, by having her stories published, she is living her most cherished fantasy.

Books by Barbara Hannay

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3578—OUTBACK WIFE AND MOTHER

Borrowed Bachelor

Barbara Hannay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

SHE only needed to reach just a little higher.

Maddy Delancy tested her weight as she balanced on the top of the stepladder. So far so good. If she rose onto her tiptoes, she should be able to attach the cane basket brimming with greenery to the hook in the ceiling and then her shop’s window display would be complete.

It was touch-and-go for a moment. The stepladder wobbled within the same split second that Maddy caught a glimpse, out of the corner of her eye, of a man’s alarmed face through the window. Crazy visions of falling flashed into her mind—of the ladder toppling—even smashing through the pane of glass and taking her with it.

But, to her immense relief, the stepladder righted without mishap. The chain holding the hanging basket slipped over the hook with a satisfying clunk and Maddy was able to climb back down in time to see the man, who’d been staring at her, rush through her rose-festooned doorway and almost skid to a halt just in front of her.

She had the distinct impression that this tall, dark male was dashing to her rescue and she found the thought charming. Perhaps if the stepladder had wobbled some more, fate might have had her falling into his arms, and she’d be clinging to him now, her eyes shining with eternal gratitude.

Worse things could happen. The fellow had all the hallmarks of a knight in shining armour. His height, broad shoulders, thick, dark brown hair, not to mention his ruggedly handsome face, were all features which, for her money, fitted quite well into the perfect hero image. And, she realised with growing interest, this was the same man she’d seen this morning moving his things into the flat upstairs.

Maddy wondered if it was time to lift her self-imposed ban prohibiting all interest in the opposite sex. Six weeks ago, her fiancè, Byron, had suddenly broken off their engagement with all the delicacy and finesse of an erupting volcano.

She had done her best to put Byron out of her mind. The first step had been to move her bank account to a different branch, so she wouldn’t have to run across him at his work. But her chest still thumped painfully whenever she caught sight of a handsome, fair-headed man of medium height dressed in a grey business suit. And even now, whenever she thought of Byron it would take ages for her heart to subside to its accustomed rhythmic beat and for her breathing to steady.

The whole experience had been so devastating, she’d sworn off men for ever.

So, this morning, she was quite surprised to find herself surreptitiously checking that her pale pink blouse was still neatly tucked into her jeans as she flashed the newcomer a bright smile. ‘Hello there, may I help you?’

‘Help me?’ he asked, looking puzzled, and his uncertainty cemented her first impression that he’d rushed into her shop thinking she was about to fall. But she had to admire the speed with which his expression switched from confusion to defiant confidence.

‘You wanted some flowers?’ she suggested.

‘Yes, of course.’ His steel-grey eyes swept the shop’s interior, taking in the buckets of fresh flowers clustered on the floor, the dried arrangements of vivid wild flowers lining the shelves on the far wall and the two glass-fronted refrigerators holding more floral decorations. ‘I—I’m visiting someone in hospital.’

She gestured to the buckets at their feet. ‘Did you want something fresh?’

He ran lean fingers through his rain-spattered hair while he scanned the colourful array. Roses, orchids, carnations—pink, mauve, white. As Maddy waited patiently, she pushed wispy dark curls away from her face. ‘These Love Potion and Angel Face roses are on special.’

He slanted her a reproachful smile. ‘You can spare me the sales pitch. My friend’s not the roses type.’

‘Then perhaps these blue irises?’ With her sneaker-enclosed foot she pointed to a bucket holding one lone bunch of striking blue flowers with yellow throats.

‘Yes. They’re nearer the mark. They’ll be fine, thanks.’ He smiled again. This time it was a stunning smile that not only warmed his grey eyes, but brought heat to her cheeks.

And as she bent down to lift the irises from the water Maddy was aware of his curious gaze appraising her. But he looked away quickly as she straightened and he concentrated his attention on the shop’s bright pink and purple sign. Bordered by flowers, it stood out against the stark white of the painted brick wall. Floral Fantasies…we aim for the heart.

‘Clever slogan.’ His head jerked in the direction of the sign.

‘Thanks.’ In response to his meagre show of interest she plucked up the courage to add, ‘You’ve just moved in upstairs, haven’t you? I saw you this morning, carting up your gear.’ Holding out her hand, she smiled, ‘I’m Madeline Delancy. We’re neighbours. I have a little flat behind the shop.’

He seemed taken aback by her sudden friendliness. Maybe she was acting a little over-eager. Nevertheless, he shook her hand and grunted, ‘Rick Lawson.’

‘My friends—most people—call me Maddy,’ she added, and looked at him expectantly.

‘Maddy?’ For the briefest moment, his eyes gleamed, but Maddy couldn’t be sure whether the spark was stirred by irritation or interest.

‘You’re lucky,’ she said, determined not to be put off by his reticence. She shook water away from the stems. ‘This is my last bunch.’

He made no response as he followed her to the counter and with deft, sure movements she wrapped clear Cellophane dotted with jaunty yellow spots around the bouquet. ‘That should cheer the patient up! I’ve pinned the Cellophane over at the top to keep the rain out.’

As she handed him the flowers, a figure huddled inside a shiny red raincoat dashed into the shop, spilling raindrops.

‘Maddy! You’re just the person I need.’

Maddy recognised the woman with bright blonde hair and felt her smile vanish with the speed of a light switch being flicked on. ‘Cynthia? I—I haven’t seen you for ages.’

And haven’t missed you one jot, she would have liked to add. Cynthia Graham was one of her least favourite people.

Cynthia didn’t respond. Her heavily made-up eyes were scanning the fresh flowers frantically. ‘Oh, no! There are none here!’ she wailed, and shot a startled look at Maddy. ‘Don’t you have any blue irises?’

Her annoyed glance swept over Rick, taking in the wallet he’d just extracted from his hip pocket and the bunch of irises he gripped in his other hand. Her eyebrows rose in consternation. ‘Have you bought them? Have you taken the last bunch?’

‘I’m sorry, Cynthia,’ Maddy interrupted quickly. ‘Just as soon as I’ve attended to this gentleman, I’m sure I will be able to help you find something else suitable.’

She was aware of Rick Lawson’s gaze darting from one female to the other.

‘But I wanted them for Byron,’ Cynthia explained impatiently.

‘Byron?’

This time it wasn’t just the smile that left Maddy’s face. She felt a cold sweat break out and her shoulders slumped. What on earth did her ex-fiancè have to do with Cynthia? An ice-cold sense of premonition swamped her and she clutched the counter for support.

But even as her mind floundered she sensed that Rick Lawson was getting edgy, standing impatiently waiting to pay for his flowers while this tense exchange took place. She cleared her throat in an attempt to finish serving him when Cynthia interrupted.

‘Maddy, didn’t you know about Byron and me?’ Her crooning voice was loaded with pseudo-concern and insincerity and she cast a sly glance over her shoulder to Rick, before continuing. ‘I hate to be the one to tell you this, sweetie, especially when you were so sure you were going to marry the dear boy, but since he broke off with you—well, I’m afraid he’s fallen madly in love with me.’

‘He’s what?’ A thick, painful sob rose in Maddy’s throat.

‘Byron and I are engaged.’

Lifting a shaking hand to her mouth, Maddy tried to ward off a hollow wave of nausea. She felt giddy. And so embarrassed to have a stranger like Rick Lawson overhearing Cynthia’s shocking news!

He’d feigned disinterest by turning his back on them and, with arms folded across his chest, he was staring at something on the ceiling.

Somehow, the sight of that broad, resentful back urged Maddy to pull herself together, but it took every atom of her willpower. ‘I’m so happy that you’re happy, Cynthia,’ she chirped, in what she hoped sounded like a spontaneous response. Then she added defiantly, ‘But don’t worry about me. I’m well set up now.’

Cynthia’s fair eyebrow arched in disbelief and Maddy’s hands clenched. Flustered, she rushed on. ‘I have a new boyfriend.’ She nodded quickly towards Rick’s turned back. ‘He’s just moving in today.’ The enormous lie doubled the pace of Maddy’s heartbeats.

Cynthia’s face pulled into an expression of grudging approval mingled with self-centred disappointment. Maddy couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction.

But Rick had clearly had enough. With a burst of annoyance, he turned, scowling, shoved his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans and dropped the bunch of irises back on the counter. ‘Here, you buy them,’ he growled at Cynthia. ‘I can get them another day. My friend’s going to be in hospital for a long time.’

Maddy struggled frantically to think clearly. ‘Are you sure? You don’t have to…’

‘No, look, really,’ Rick demurred, raising his hands to ward off any protests and backing towards the shop door. It was clear he wanted to get out of the place. ‘It really isn’t a big deal.’ He flashed them both a teeth-gritted version of a smile before striding quickly out of the shop.

‘It’s very kind of you,’ Maddy called after him.

As he disappeared, Cynthia’s eyes narrowed. ‘You can easily get him some more if he’s about to move in with you, can’t you?’ she asked.

Maddy looked at her blankly. Then she blushed. ‘Yes. Yes, of course I can. It’s not a problem. Give my regards to Byron.’

And she held herself together until Cynthia walked out of the shop door clutching her irises. But as soon as the other woman had gone she snatched up the empty bucket that had held the flowers and stomped to the little room at the back of the shop where she thumped it down with a loud crash.

Damn Cynthia! Double damn Byron!

After six weeks, she’d thought the scars were finally healing. But now…Byron engaged again? To Cynthia Graham? How could he?

How could she?

But Maddy knew the answer to that. Cynthia Graham had been an old rival since high school. Anything Maddy could do, scheming Cynthia would always do better, if it killed her…

It was a pattern so old, Maddy knew she shouldn’t be surprised that it had been repeated once again. Cynthia Graham had always wanted everything she ever wanted, whether it was getting into the netball team, or winning an art prize. And later she managed to date just about any boy Maddy ever went out with. She should have known Cynthia would chase after Byron.

And now look at the mess she’d made of things. She’d panicked and become so desperately flustered that she’d let Cynthia think Rick Lawson was her boyfriend. Thank heavens he had no idea. There was already a woman in his life he cared deeply enough about to want to buy her flowers.

That was another thing. This friend of Rick Lawson’s was sick in hospital and surely she deserved those flowers much more than Byron!

She could picture Rick visiting his friend. He would present her with the bright bouquet—bending low to her hospital bed to give her a kiss. It would be a touching scene. He was so very nice-looking—especially when he smiled. And she could imagine how pleased the patient would be to see him.

Maddy tried to pinpoint where she’d seen Rick before. There was something strangely familiar about his face and his name. Early this morning, he’d made several trips past her window carting up his luggage through the rain. But bulging backpacks and high-tech camera equipment seemed to be the sum total of his belongings.

She shrugged as she reached for the phone while running her finger down the list of other florist outlets taped to the wall beside her small desk. Whoever he was, he had dashed into her shop like a man on a desperate mission. He’d taken great pains to select exactly the right flowers. And then he’d gallantly surrendered them to Cynthia, as if they hadn’t mattered at all.

Maddy stared through the small window in the shop’s back wall. The rain, so unseasonal for sunny Brisbane, was still streaming down outside. She didn’t really fancy heading out into such miserable weather, but the least she could do was find Rick Lawson a replacement bunch.

At six-thirty, Maddy rapped a confident knock on her new neighbour’s door and summoned her brightest smile as it opened. But her smile wavered as she encountered grey eyes regarding her warily, as if she were casing the joint, or at the very least trying to sell something.

When Maddy thrust a bunch of irises forward, Rick merely frowned. ‘Good evening,’ she began, trying not to sound too hesitant. ‘I managed to get some more irises and I thought I’d deliver them as soon as possible in case you were going back to the hospital tonight.’

‘Thanks,’ he muttered as he accepted the bouquet. Maddy felt her eyes widen. He wasn’t exactly rude, but there was certainly something exceedingly guarded about his expression.

‘It was no trouble,’ she offered. ‘The Golden Wattle in Adelaide Street had plenty of these flowers to spare and…seeing we’re neighbours…’ Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Rick was staring at the bunch of flowers, a deep frown drawing his brows low.

‘I’m very sorry about the tussle over the flowers this afternoon.’ Maddy tried again. ‘I hope your…um…the patient—I hope she wasn’t too disappointed.’

‘Sam?’ The tanned skin around the grey eyes crinkled and Maddy thought she caught a hint of a smile. ‘It wasn’t a problem.’

She bit her lip uncertainly. Why was this stranger making her feel so inadequate? She had always considered herself to be very good with people. While her successful business had always depended on her skills in public relations, she’d gone out of her way to be on friendly terms with her neighbours as well. Life was much more comfortable that way.

She tossed her long dark curls over her shoulder and waited in the vain hope that he would be more forthcoming. Perhaps he would tell her about the woman in hospital. Anything to be sociable. But Rick Lawson clearly didn’t feel the need to make any kind of small talk.

She shrugged. If her new neighbour had the social skills of a newt, it was a pity, but she’d get over it. ‘Look.’ She tried one last time. ‘I know you’ve just moved in here. I don’t mean to pry or anything. I just wanted to apologise about the flowers and perhaps I could—I don’t know—maybe I could cook you a meal some time as a kind of compensation. While you’re settling in,’ she added with her most encouraging smile—the one she used for uncertain customers. ‘I mean if you’re spending a lot of time at the hospital, you might be pretty tied up…and I’m always cooking extra food for my kid brother at uni. He claims they starve him.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

His bluntness angered her. Maddy stiffened. Why couldn’t this man be a little more grateful? Helping him would be a useful distraction. It would help her forget her other woes and she would feel less guilty about using him as a weapon against Cynthia. ‘You’re going to be obstinate, aren’t you?’ she challenged him.

‘Good Lord, woman!’ Rick exclaimed, with an exaggerated heave of his shoulders. ‘I’m saving you from having to cook dinner for me. How does that make me obstinate?’

She shook her curls defensively. ‘This afternoon you seemed terribly anxious to buy some flowers for your friend. The next minute Cynthia Graham virtually grabbed them off you for—for the stupidest of reasons. I felt bad—especially as you’re not just any customer. You’re my neighbour. I like to get on with my neighbours and—and I’d like to be able to compensate.’

Rick shoved his free hand deep into the pocket of his track pants and an eyebrow arched. ‘Ms Delancy,’ he said with exaggerated forbearance, ‘how about we agree that I shall put in a compensation claim if and when I feel you or your business have inconvenienced me in any way? Does that sound acceptable?’

It sounded to Maddy like a pretty clear snub. She could add it to her list of recent failures. It was bad enough that Byron had dumped her in preference for Cynthia. But now even this mature-age street kid was shunning her friendly overtures. Perhaps he had her tagged as a loser?

‘It doesn’t sound like good neighbourly relations,’ she said huffily.

‘For Pete’s sake,’ Rick Lawson cried, running distracted fingers through his hair. ‘This isn’t the United Nations. We are simply a man and a woman who happen to live in the same building. We don’t need any kind of a relationship. You just concentrate on this new fellow who’s moving in with you.’

Maddy stared at him, her mouth opening and closing while she tried to think of anything to say.

Rick took advantage of her dilemma to drive his point home. ‘Look, I know you’ve had some kind of bust-up with your fiancè. But it’s got nothing to do with me. I’m not a counsellor. Sorting out your love life is a job for your new boyfriend.’

Her face was bright red. She could feel it. This morning in the shop he’d heard every word of her reply to Cynthia. It was small comfort that he hadn’t actually seen her indicating that he was the boyfriend in question. Maddy had never felt so embarrassed, so caught out, so angry!

Lifting her head as proudly as she could, she glared at him. ‘My love life is fine, thank you. You must have a warped view of the world if you interpret every friendly gesture as related to—to sex!’

With another toss of her head, she spun around in a rather poor imitation of a pirouette. Unfortunately, she finished awkwardly and staggered for the first few steps as she tried to march haughtily away. But at least Rick Lawson had the good grace not to chuckle—not so loudly that she heard it at any rate.

During the week that followed, the monster upstairs made Maddy cringe or feel angry every time she saw him. He passed her shop several times each day, starting with an early morning jog around the time she arrived back from the markets. So she was provided with far too many opportunities to seesaw between self-recrimination for making such a mess of a simple friendly gesture and self-righteous wrath whenever she remembered his biting responses. How had she ever thought of him as some kind of hero?

They’d virtually ignored each other all week. A curt ‘good morning’ or an unsmiling nod was the most they’d exchanged.

But by Friday evening Maddy had begun to put the silly episode behind her. Mr Lawson certainly wasn’t worth another moment’s mental anguish. She tried not to let it bother her that he’d probably guessed by now that there was no new boyfriend.

At seven o’clock she closed her timber venetian blinds to block out the lights of Inner Brisbane and with her stereo system playing the hushed, slow crooning of her favourite jazz CD she curled contentedly on her sofa.

A plate of toast piled with beans and a mug of hot mocha sat on the coffee table beside her and a whole weekend stretched in front of her. Blissfully she crunched into a piece of toast topped with spicy beans and contemplated what her weekend held.

Chrissie, her part-time assistant, looked after the shop on Saturday mornings, so all Maddy had to concentrate on was the flowers for the Jameson wedding in the afternoon. And that was more or less in hand. Sunday would be hers.

But, socially…it was an empty weekend with no dates, no invitations.

Of course, no Byron.

Maddy tried to shrug away the thought. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander down that weary, worn-out track. Thinking about Byron with Cynthia was even more hurtful and distressing than contemplating Rick Lawson.

When her doorbell rang, she remained quite calm. After weeks of leaping to answer the telephone’s ring or a knock on the door, Maddy at last knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that there was no chance the caller would be Byron. Slowly she rose to her feet and dusted toast crumbs from her T-shirt. As she padded across the room in her bare feet, Maddy noticed a bean had rolled down her front, leaving a bright amber trail over one breast, so she dabbed at the stain with a tissue. But the orange glob simply spread further.

She swung the door open and took two rapid steps back.

‘Hi,’ said Rick Lawson.

‘Oh!’ Her mouth stayed open in a silly, round circle.

The sight of him dressed casually in jeans and a black polo shirt and filling her doorway with his one hundred percent all-male presence stunned her. What on earth was he doing here?

‘Mr Lawson?’ After her week of pent-up resentment, she could only think of one reason why he would be calling. ‘Have you come to apologise?’

His brows shot down into a deep V. ‘Pardon?’

Maddy felt her eyes roll towards the ceiling. ‘You realise you were rude to me last week after I went to a lot of trouble to get you those flowers.’

He stepped forward into her flat and Maddy found herself taking another step back.

‘I wasn’t being rude, Madeline. Just cautious.’

‘And I’m being cautious now. What do you want?’ she asked.

‘I need some advice.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he replied with an amused smile. ‘After considering your little lecture on good neighbourly relations, I’ve decided to accept your offer.’

‘My offer?’ she echoed, at the same time flinching at the inanity of her question. Surely she wasn’t going to flounder through another moronic episode of foot-and-mouth disease?

‘Dinner,’ he replied with annoying succinctness. From behind his back he produced a bottle of expensive-looking red wine.

‘But you refused that offer,’ she protested, hands on hips.

Rick cocked his head to one side and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then he grinned. Maddy noticed rather irrelevantly that he had nice teeth. ‘I need a change of scenery. Sam’s feeling much better and getting stroppy. And I think you might be able to help me.’

‘I don’t see how I can help you, Rick,’ Maddy countered, feeling totally confused. ‘I’m quite sure you don’t need my advice on how to humour your friend while she recuperates.’

Rick chuckled. He handed Maddy the wine and she accepted it, but stood there holding it in front of her while she waited for an explanation. He scratched his head. ‘I’m interested in some business advice. You seem to have a pretty good little outfit running here. And I’m keen to do some networking on my partner’s behalf.’

Maddy felt her lips flatten into a half-hearted smile. She’d only inherited her grandfather’s shop eighteen months ago and didn’t consider herself all that experienced. And she was hardly flattered that Rick Lawson considered her company an improvement on the grumpy Sam. But then again, on a lonely Friday evening, anything that helped her forget about Byron was a bonus.

Rick strode across her lounge room towards the kitchen, and he sniffed as he walked. ‘What are you eating? Can I smell chilli?’

‘Chilli beans,’ she answered without enthusiasm. ‘On toast.’ He would pick the one night she was having a scratch meal!

‘With cheese?’

She almost responded in her usual manner by jumping straight into hostess mode. Maddy was more than capable of hauling a range of items out of her well-stocked fridge and throwing together quite a presentable meal. But, she reminded herself, this was Rick Lawson, the moody and undeserving monster from upstairs. There was nothing to be gained by bending over backwards to impress him.

‘No cheese,’ she lied airily.

‘Salsa?’

‘No.’

‘I suppose corn chips or sour cream would be out of the question?’

‘Completely.’

He pivoted, then stood with feet firmly planted on her hand-woven rug, and his mouth pulled into a rueful smile. His eyes shimmered as he hooked his thumbs through the loops of his jeans and Maddy couldn’t help noticing the snug fit of blue denim over well-toned, masculine muscles.

‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she said.

‘Of course you weren’t,’ Rick replied with a shrug. ‘Will your boyfriend mind?’

Maddy’s stomach plummeted. She shook her head. If she were brave, she would confess now that there was no boyfriend—that she’d only invented him in an attempt to ward off Cynthia’s oppressive one-upmanship.

But she wasn’t brave.

‘He—he’s not home tonight,’ she stammered. ‘He—he’s taking evening classes and he had to go to a lecture.’

Rick’s eyes widened. ‘And he won’t mind if you dine with a stranger?’

‘Oh, of course not!’ she spluttered. ‘He’s not the jealous type and—and anyhow, you’re my—our neighbour, hardly a stranger.’ Thoroughly flustered now, she flounced past him into the kitchen. ‘I’ll see how much is left in the pot.’

He followed her. ‘Even though it’s smaller, your place looks a lot classier than mine.’ Rick’s gaze scanned Maddy’s flat with interest, taking in the glowing timber floors and blinds and the deep royal-blue walls, which provided a striking backdrop for her collection of bright prints. ‘I have an old, moth-eaten carpet in a delightful shade of baby-poop yellow and a slightly lighter version of the same fetching hue on the walls.’

Maddy handed him back the wine bottle plus a corkscrew then took a step back. In her tiny kitchen, he suddenly seemed bigger, even more overwhelmingly male. ‘Interior decorating is my hobby,’ she said as she scraped beans away from the sides of a saucepan, sloshed in a dollop of chilli sauce and placed it back on a low heat. ‘I get urges to make any place I live in as comfortable and cheery as possible, so I talked the landlord into letting me do up these rooms. He provided the materials, I supplied the elbow grease.’ She dropped two slices of bread into her toaster.

‘You’ve done a great job,’ Rick admitted as he pulled the cork out of the bottle. It came with a gentle pop. His lazy smile mocked her. ‘So you have an overdeveloped nesting instinct?’

Maddy sniffed. ‘What’s so funny? I put a lot of energy into my business, but my home is important to me as well.’

‘Sounds smart.’ He lifted a restraining hand. ‘There’s no need to wave that wooden spoon at me like that. Your shirt already has a bad case of the measles.’

She looked down at her white T-shirt. A splattering of bright red dots had joined the stain she’d noticed earlier. But, worse than a little mess, she noticed that, under Rick Lawson’s sardonic gaze, her nipples were hardening into obvious tight buds, straining against the thin cotton fabric. She dumped the spoon back in the pot and, as casually as possible, crossed her arms over her chest.

The toast popped up and Maddy was grateful for the diversion. She placed the slices on a plate and spooned beans onto them. ‘You’ll find a knife and fork in that drawer to your left. And wineglasses in the cupboard above.’

As she carried their food to the glass-topped table at one end of the lounge-dining room while Rick followed with the wine and glasses, Maddy reprimanded herself for being so easily manipulated. Rick had arrived uninvited and totally spoiled her peaceful evening. And somehow she’d let him get away with it.

‘I guess you do a lot of business for people visiting the hospital,’ he said as he filled her wineglass.

So he really does want to discuss my business, she realised, faintly surprised. ‘There are florists right at the hospital door who do a roaring trade there. My sales are more of a mixture.’

Rick took a deep swig of his wine. ‘Weddings, celebrations? Do you have much work in that line?’ His tone sounded deliberately casual.

Maddy toyed with her glass. Where was this leading to? Was he from some big chain wanting to take over her business? The thought chilled her. She loved her little shop and the thought of losing it was unbearable. But surely she was letting her imagination get the better of her. ‘I’m moderately successful in that area,’ she said, and decided to leave it at that.

Rick sampled the beans and nodded his approval as he chewed. ‘Tasty,’ he commented. ‘Beans go quite well with the wine, don’t they?’

Maddy’s hand waggled vaguely in the air. The beans were average as chilli beans went, but the wine was very good quality. ‘This wine would improve just about anything—even a peanut butter sandwich.’ She took another sip to prove it. ‘I’m glad to hear your partner is getting better.’

‘Yeah. It’s going to be a long process, but mobility should be retained.’

‘So she’s had an accident?’

For a long moment, Rick stared back at her, and she was shocked by the sudden change in his expression. His grey eyes became as empty and bleak as the ashen shell of a burnt-out building.

‘A bullet lodged in the hip.’

‘My God!’

Rick frowned and blinked and stared at his food, and Maddy lowered her eyes to her own plate. Her thoughts whirled.

Rick Lawson’s girlfriend had been shot?

Who was she sharing her meal with?

A criminal involved in some kind of backstreet warfare?

She thought of Rick’s few belongings. Was he on the run? The hairs lifted on the back of her neck as she remembered how familiar his face and name had seemed. Surely she hadn’t seen mugshots of him on television? On some ‘Wanted’ file?

‘I blame myself,’ Rick said with a heavy sigh. And the expression on his face was so full of remorse that Maddy put on hold her intention to ring Crime Stoppers. Surely a criminal wouldn’t look so repentant?

‘Perhaps you’re being too hard on yourself,’ she said, shocked at the definite note of sympathy she heard in her voice.

Rick’s eyes softened and he smiled a slow, lingering smile that acknowledged her attempt at empathy, but held just a hint of something else as well.

As his gaze rested on her, Maddy’s arms turned to goosebumps and her cheeks grew warm. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to feel warm and melting over a man’s smile. Especially a man who already had a girlfriend. So what if the smile was a darn sight beyond charming? So what if his eyes suddenly sparked with a hint of something that looked remarkably like desire? And perhaps his mouth was sensuous and sexy? Minutes—maybe only seconds ago, she’d been suspecting this man of being wanted by the police in at least five states.

But, whatever message had flashed across his face, it disappeared as he shook his head. ‘Sam’s accident was my fault. It was my idea for us to chase a story in a really dangerous part of the world.’

Rick placed his wineglass carefully on the glass-topped table. ‘Sam didn’t want to do the story. Said the whole situation was too hazardous. But such a damned good photographer can’t resist a chance at good footage—and I knew that once we got there and saw the action Sam would be right in the thick of things—getting the most incredible scenes.’ He paused and, with his fork, traced a pattern in the bright sauce on his plate. ‘I placed my partner’s life in jeopardy for the sake of my story.’

While her sympathy for him swelled, something else clicked into place in Maddy’s brain. ‘I just realised who you are,’ she blurted out.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU’RE Rick Lawson!’ Maddy exclaimed.

He grinned briefly and rolled his eyes. ‘Well done,’ he chuckled. ‘I thought I introduced myself last Monday.’

‘No. I mean you’re the Rick Lawson. The foreign correspondent!’

How could she not have recognised him? On her father’s recommendation, Maddy had watched Rick’s programs from around the world with increasing fascination. She’d been impressed by his ability to make complicated and often disastrous situations in foreign parts of the world seem clear and vitally important to viewers watching from the comfort of their lounge rooms.

But, meeting him in a totally different context—in her own little flower shop—she hadn’t made the connection. As soon as he’d mentioned terms like stories and photographers, his identity had been so glaringly obvious, she felt foolish. ‘Wow! You did all that wonderful work for famine relief last year!’ she exclaimed.

‘And landed my partner in hospital this year,’ he replied softly.

‘But you said she’s going to get better.’

‘Sam will walk again. But there’ll probably be a limp. We won’t be able to do the dangerous kind of work we’re used to doing together.’

Rick reached over and topped up her glass and promptly changed the subject. ‘The people like you whose business involves weddings—the caterers, florists, photographers…Do you all form some kind of a cooperative? Recommend each other? That sort of thing?’

‘Oh—um—are you planning a wedding?’ Maddy stammered, still grappling with the startling realisation that, rather than harbouring a criminal, she was entertaining a celebrity.

‘No, not at all. But I thought maybe Sam should think about that line of work—some kind of functions photographer. Videos perhaps.’

‘Oh. I see,’ Maddy said quietly.

And she saw a lot more. It suddenly made complete sense why the taciturn Rick Lawson, who’d shunned her all week, had suddenly turned up on her doorstep. He was no more interested in ‘good neighbourly relations’ now than he had been on Monday.

That winning smile he’d beamed on her mere minutes ago had been a weapon—a weapon he frequently used in front of the camera. He could switch it on whenever he needed to win the hearts of viewers worldwide. And tonight he’d turned it on for her, because he wanted to appease his guilty conscience by finding a suitable career alternative for his partner. He was simply sussing her out as a possible link for Sam’s future employment.

And why she should be so utterly disappointed by that thought puzzled Maddy totally.

Rick stood up. ‘Why don’t you have the last of this wine while I wash the dishes?’

Startled, Maddy jumped to her feet. She hadn’t expected Rick Lawson to belong to the dish-washing variety of male. She’d hardly met a man who had. At home, her father had always had more important things to do than household chores and her brothers had helped him on the farm, leaving the kitchen to her mother and herself. More recently, while her fiancè had enjoyed her cooking on many occasions, she knew Byron would have had a blue fit if she’d so much as waved a tea towel at him.

‘You don’t need to wash up,’ she told Rick. ‘There are only a couple of plates and a pot.’

But he ignored her protests, gathered up the plates and headed for the kitchen. ‘I insist.’

Maddy followed him, clutching her wineglass. She leant against a cupboard and watched with interest as Rick flicked on the hot-water tap and squeezed some detergent into the sink. She had to admit that her interest was fuelled by more than simple curiosity about a man tackling a household chore. The muscles flexing in Rick’s shoulders and arms as he moved, the way detergent bubbles clung to the light hair on his strong forearms and the neat way his jeans outlined his behind were all points worthy of inspection.

She set down her drink, reached for a tea towel and furiously scrubbed at a plate. There was no point in wasting time contemplating Rick Lawson’s physique when the only interest he’d shown in her was as an employment agency for his girlfriend.

‘Do you have a pot-scrubber?’ he asked as he frowned at the baked-on dregs of beans sticking to the bottom of the saucepan.

‘Sure,’ Maddy mumbled, feeling ridiculously flustered and frantic. It was so weird to be sharing a domestic chore with a virtual stranger. ‘Under the sink. I’ll get it for you.’

He stepped slightly to one side so that she could rummage around in the cupboard. How could the scouring gear have vanished? It was always in a little plastic bucket at the front of the cupboard. On her haunches, she stuck her head deeper into the rather untidy jumble of cleaning gear.

At last she saw the scourer right at the back of the cupboard. As she reached for it, her phone chose to ring and Maddy automatically straightened. Her head hit the drainpipe. ‘Ouch!’ she wailed as she staggered backwards and fell against Rick’s legs.

‘Whoa,’ he chuckled, and his wet, soapy hands grasped her shoulders. ‘Are you OK?’

Maddy nodded and he helped her up while the phone continued its insistent ringing. ‘I should get that,’ she muttered. But she was too late. As she headed across the kitchen, her answering machine cut in and her caller’s voice was broadcast through the small flat.

‘Hello, Madeline. Surprise, surprise. It’s Byron.’

Maddy froze mid-step. Her heart thumped frantically and her chest tightened as if her childhood asthma had returned. She wanted to run to the phone and snatch it up, but her feet wouldn’t carry her quickly. She staggered across the kitchen as if she were fighting her way through dense forest. Byron? What on earth did he want?

She didn’t want to know.

But his message continued, his voice sounding a little thinner than she remembered. ‘I understand Cynthia has told you our news, Maddy. About our engagement. We’d really love you to do all the flowers for our wedding. Please give us a call. Same number. Bye.’

How long she stood there, staring at the answering machine, her hands clasped as if in prayer while her heart galloped a chaotic route around her rib cage, she couldn’t tell.

A discreet cough disturbed her wretched thoughts. Rick stood beside her.

‘You’re finished?’ she whispered.

‘I could well ask you the same question,’ he replied. ‘You look as if you’ve been totally finished—done in, done over. I take it that wasn’t good news?’

‘No.’ She tried to smile but somehow the muscles around her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. ‘It was—I mean—it—it’s just another job.’

‘Of course it isn’t just another job,’ he said, his voice all deep and gravelly. ‘You’re a really shocking shade of pale. You look like you’ve just had a close encounter with a vampire.’

She stared at him for a long moment. ‘In a way I have,’ she whispered, the aftershock of Byron’s bombshell still sending sickening waves shooting through her.

He guided her towards the sofa. ‘You need to sit down.’

Maddy slumped onto the sofa and Rick sat beside her, watching her carefully. ‘You don’t have to tell me about the vampire if you don’t want to,’ he said. ‘You should probably save it for your boyfriend. What time does he get back?’

‘Oh—um—not till late,’ she mumbled. She managed a weak smile. ‘Don’t worry about me, Rick. I know you don’t want to get embroiled in my personal problems.’

Rick eyed her shrewdly. ‘There’s no such animal, is there?’

‘What?’

‘This boyfriend. I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but there’s absolutely no evidence of a bloke in this flat. If he does exist, he must be the neatest fellow who ever walked this planet—and be very clever at slipping in and out of this place when no one’s around. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in a week.’

Maddy plucked at a loose thread in the fabric on her sofa. There was absolutely no point in trying to cover up any longer. ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘There’s no new boyfriend.’ Then she hastily added, ‘At the moment.’

‘You just wanted to shut up that woman in the shop the other day,’ Rick conceded. ‘She was one nasty piece of work.’

Maddy could have kissed Rick. It felt so good to realise he understood. He had read Cynthia like a book. ‘It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment,’ she admitted.

With lazy nonchalance, Rick settled himself lower on the sofa. ‘This Byron fellow who rang tonight is your ex-fiancè. Right?’

Maddy nodded. ‘He—well, he called our engagement off just six weeks ago. And now—he’s engaged again!’ As a fresh wave of anger surfaced, Maddy clenched her fists. ‘And he has the gall to ring up and ask me to do the flowers for his—for crying out loud—his new wedding! But the worst thing is, he’s marrying Cynthia Graham!’

Rick’s eyes widened and Maddy couldn’t help noticing that up close, and when he wasn’t scowling, they were very nice eyes—grey with unusual little flecks of vivid blue. ‘The woman in the shop?’

She nodded.

‘So you know the bride quite well?’

Bride? The word brought sudden, stinging tears to her eyes. Six weeks ago she had been dreaming of being a bride. They hadn’t quite set a date. Byron hadn’t wanted to commit himself to a definite time frame. There were so many things to consider, he’d said. But still she’d been dreaming of an elegant white gown and a happy country-style wedding at home on her parents’ farm.

‘Yes.’ Maddy hugged her folded arms across her chest and drew in an angry breath, which emerged seconds later as a long, frustrated sigh. ‘Since the eighth grade when I arrived at boarding school. I really don’t know why I hadn’t already expected this. Cynthia has always wanted everything I ever wanted.’ She outlined for Rick a potted history of Cynthia’s competitive endeavours over the past decade.

Rick slanted her a sardonic half-smile. ‘She sounds like a real honey.’

His sarcasm was like balm to her smarting wounds. ‘Oh, she’s a sweetie,’ Maddy agreed. ‘The only area where she couldn’t compete with me was music.’ Maddy couldn’t resist a tiny grin. ‘I’m no singing star, but Cynthia didn’t have a musical bone in her body. At university she auditioned for our college choir—after I was accepted, of course. But the conductor told her she should confine her vocal talents to the bathroom, but to ensure that it had been soundproofed first.’

Rick grinned back at her. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Just keep thinking nice warm and fuzzy thoughts about the two of them and then you’ll be able to pull it off.’

Maddy raised startled eyes to his. ‘Pull what off?’

‘Why, providing the flowers for their wedding, of course.’

Maddy shrank away from him as if he’d been going to strike her. ‘What? You’ve got to be joking! There’s no way I would even dream of going near that wedding. I don’t even want to organise for anyone else to do it!’

Rick grunted his disapproval and slid lower on the sofa, stretching his long legs before him. ‘That’s a pity.’

Maddy jumped up, angrily tossing her curls. ‘A pity?’ she cried. ‘What would you know about this? Have you any idea what’s involved in organising all the flowers for someone’s wedding?’

‘Tell me.’

She threw her arms wide open to try to convey the enormity of the task. ‘First of all I’d have to have them both—possibly a bridesmaid or two or even Cynthia’s mother as well—here at my flat for a consultation. Normally people come to the shop, but Byron knows I always bring special friends in here and make a little social occasion of it, so that’s what he’d expect. And while I showed them albums of examples and discussed all the different bouquet choices they would be billing and cooing all over each other! Then there’d be endless phone calls and—and decorating the church and the reception venue on the day!’ Maddy shuddered. ‘No one would expect me to do all that. Not for them!’

‘Obviously Byron does.’

His casual reply infuriated her. She clenched her fists. How could she expect this stranger to understand or care about her finer feelings?

‘But I don’t owe Byron anything!’

Rick’s puzzled gaze rested on her and Maddy felt the colour rise and fall in her cheeks. ‘No, you don’t owe him anything,’ he reassured her. ‘This Byron fellow is obviously a first-class fool. But you look like you’ve got plenty of spunk. I’m sure you can hold your own in love and war, Maddy.’

‘I wouldn’t be so certain,’ she answered softly.

‘Come on. You’re not going to let one whimper from your ex-fiancè send you crumpling in a heap like paper thrown on a fire.’ Rick raked a hand through his hair. ‘I kind of understand how you feel. In my line of work, I’ve seen plenty of defeated people. I’ve watched people fight and struggle for basic rights, only to be rejected once too often. That’s when they give up.’

‘Can you blame them?’

‘Not really,’ Rick admitted. ‘But that’s what’s so good about my work. Because it’s at that point that sometimes, by exposing the injustice, my film crew and I have been able to make a difference.’

Maddy had to admire Rick’s zeal. She could tell he genuinely cared about his work. But she didn’t see how her little problem was quite in the same league.

‘You’d be playing right into Byron and Cynthia’s hands if you let them know they’ve hurt you,’ he told her. ‘From what you’ve said, I think this Graham woman would enjoy knowing you were suffering.’

Maddy sat down again and met his grey gaze. She swallowed at the impact it had on her at this close distance. ‘Cynthia would certainly love it!’ she agreed.

She saw his serious expression brighten. ‘Then rise above her!’ he cried, thumping the sofa with a clenched fist. ‘Show her you don’t care. Don’t let either of them see that you’re hurting at all. I promise you, it will feel like a victory.’

Maddy narrowed her eyes as she considered his advice. ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was low and uncertain.

Rick’s clenched hand reached out to trace her cheek with his knuckle. Maddy was surprised by his sudden show of tenderness. It must have startled him too. Abruptly, he rose to his feet. ‘Think about it. It’s up to you, of course, but my advice would be to take the wind out of their sails. Show them you don’t give a damn. Certainly don’t lose any sleep over them. They sound like they deserve each other.’

‘I will think about it,’ she said, standing beside him and following him to her door. ‘Thanks, Rick.’

‘Thank you for the dinner.’

‘Perhaps—another time—I could cook you a proper meal. I rather like cooking.’

‘Part of the little home-maker package?’ Rick asked.

‘I guess so,’ she said, then smiled. ‘Just look what Byron’s missing out on.’

He drew up his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. ‘His loss. Just don’t let him gloat, by acting like a victim.’

He let himself out of her flat quickly.

Maddy thought about Rick’s advice all night long. ‘Don’t lose any sleep over them’, he’d said. Well, that was impossible. Not just because she was upset about Byron and Cynthia. Rick upset her, too. He was such a disturbing mixture. Tonight he’d shown her little glimpses of a new-age, sensitive male and yet all week he’d behaved like a primitive Neanderthal caveman, offering her no more than a frown and a grunt.

If she took away his good looks, all that was left was a stubborn, impossible male—who occasionally, out of the blue, seemed unexpectedly concerned and considerate. The last point Rick had made certainly rang true. In response to Cynthia and Byron, she was behaving like a victim.

Somewhere around three a.m. it finally started to make sense. It was time she took control of her life again. And, yes, she would make a start by doing the flowers for Byron Black’s wedding! The Black wedding! She could almost dredge up a giggle. It sounded so macabre. As a few more wicked ideas began to blossom, she almost looked forward to the task. But, she thought as she drifted off to sleep at last, she would need a little help from the man upstairs.

‘They’re coming next Wednesday at five-thirty p.m.,’ Maddy announced to Rick towards the end of the following week. ‘Oh, and I’ve brought you some chicken cacciatore.’

Once again she was standing outside his flat and he was staring back at her, looking grim and a touch confused. ‘Run that by me again, please.’

‘Sorry,’ Maddy apologised, realising she was gabbling. ‘Let me start over. Number one, how’s Sam?’

He folded his arms across his wide chest. ‘Coming along better than expected.’

‘Wow, that’s great! I should think hardly anyone gets to exceed a doctor’s expectations!’

‘Yeah, I guess that’s so.’ Rick’s scowl softened and, like the sun peeping over the horizon, his face brightened. Maddy found herself staring at him. How amazingly good it felt inside to see his slow, sexy smile.

She proffered a covered dish wrapped in a gingham tea towel. ‘Second thing, I made a chicken casserole for my brother Andy and saved some for you.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’ He accepted the dish, his frown back in place.

Maddy’s empty hands dropped onto her hips. ‘But the big news is…that Byron and Cynthia have made an appointment to consult about the flowers.’

Rick’s eyes gleamed. ‘Good. So you’re taking them on.’

‘I am.’ Maddy straightened her shoulders; she was still trying to convince herself that she could pull this off. ‘And I feel quite ready for their visit. Or at least I will when I’ve finished my preparations.’

‘I wouldn’t go to too much trouble if I were you. From what you’ve told me, they don’t deserve any extra trimmings.’

‘No, but I do,’ Maddy replied with careful emphasis.

‘Pardon?’

‘The preparations are for me. I need to bolster my morale so I can face them both and keep my chin up,’ she explained.

He was curious now. She could tell, because he was forgetting to frown at her.

‘So what did you have in mind?’

Maddy smiled. ‘I need to do some reconnaissance.’

Rick shook his head as he lounged against the door-jamb. ‘You’ve totally lost me again.’

‘I need your help. Actually, I need to inspect your flat.’

‘Like hell you do.’ His scowl deepened.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s important. It’s necessary research. I need to see how a man lives,’ Maddy told him cheerfully.

Rick looked so startled, Maddy thought he was going to drop the casserole dish.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was getting tired of hovering in the hallway. Rick Lawson certainly didn’t go out of his way to be hospitable. ‘When Byron and Cynthia come. When they arrive at my place, I have to pretend that I have a—new lover. You know, a live-in lover. Remember? I told Cynthia in the shop that day that he was moving in.’

‘So you’re going to keep this subterfuge going as a morale booster, are you?’ Rick drawled.

Maddy hesitated. If Rick was going to be negative or cynical about her plans, she would get nowhere. ‘Well, yes. I couldn’t bear to have Cynthia catch me out. And Byron and Cynthia will get the picture that I’m not jealous much more clearly if I have my own gorgeous hunk of live-in masculinity, won’t they?’

‘I—I guess so.’ Rick stared at her and she could have sworn his jaw thrust forward slightly. ‘So, where exactly does my flat fit into all of this?’

‘Oh, Rick, please let me in and then I’ll explain. After all, you bounced into my flat unannounced the other night and all’s fair in love and war.’

He stood frowning for a little longer before he finally shrugged and stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. ‘I can’t promise you’ll be impressed.’

‘I’m not expecting to be impressed,’ said Maddy, beaming triumphantly as she followed Rick into his lounge room. ‘I have two brothers and their rooms have always looked like war zones. But I wasn’t sure if they were typical of the male species.’

Halfway across his lounge room, Rick paused. ‘So you’ve never been in another man’s apartment?’

Her confidence faltered. ‘N-no. Not alone with a man who lives—alone.”

‘There must have been boyfriends?’

‘At uni I lived in a residential college—so did most of the guys I dated. I occasionally saw their rooms, but it’s not quite the same.’

‘What about Dracula? What’s his name again?’

‘Byron.’ She shot him a drop-dead look. ‘He lives with his mother. And she still does everything for him.’

One of Rick’s eyebrows rose and he smiled at her. ‘One might almost feel sympathy for Cynthia.’

Maddy allowed herself a small chuckle. ‘Yes. She might be in for one or two surprises.’

‘Perhaps you had a lucky escape.’

‘Perhaps…’

By the time Maddy had journeyed through Rick’s flat and reached his kitchen, it was her turn to be surprised. His flat was amazingly neat. Neat wasn’t really the word for it. It was spartan. ‘Your—your flat is virtually empty!’ she cried in dismay.

‘Welcome to masculine perfection,’ he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes.

‘Well,’ he went on defensively, ‘these are only temporary digs. This isn’t my home, you know. Not that I really have a home anymore.’ He paused and frowned. ‘I’m never settled in one place for long. I couldn’t get a furnished apartment close to the hospital for just a few weeks and I didn’t want to waste money getting a whole lot of unnecessary furniture.’ Setting the casserole dish down on a kitchen bench, he turned to her. ‘So, Ms Delancy, what exactly did you want to know about male habitats?’

Maddy chewed her soft lower lip. She’d been afraid Rick would make fun of her scheme and it seemed her fears were warranted. Still, she was committed to this appointment with Byron and Cynthia now, and so she had to press on. ‘Well, you said yourself the other night that there was no sign of a man in my flat, so I want to plant evidence of a man’s existence about the place. I guess if you can’t—or won’t—help me I can make it up myself—a football sweater draped over a chair, joggers under the sofa, shaving gear in the bathroom.’

‘Bathroom?’ His forehead wrinkled in surprise. ‘Do you need to go into that much detail?’

‘Definitely. I’m sure Cynthia is the type to investigate the bathroom cabinet while she visits—just so she can check out every intimate detail. If she had time she would probably snoop around the bedroom too.’

‘What might she hope to find there?’

To her annoyance, Maddy felt her cheeks burn. ‘I was actually thinking of pyjamas.’ She looked at him shyly. ‘You don’t happen to have a spare pair, do you?’

‘To leave poking out from under your pillow?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Sorry,’ Rick grinned. ‘I never use them. Can’t help you there at all.’

‘Oh…’ Maddy made a show of examining her nails while she tried to banish thoughts of Rick between the sheets and without pyjamas.

‘I’m starting to get the picture.’ He looked around his bare kitchen. ‘Would you like some coffee? Or perhaps a beer?’

‘Coffee would be lovely.’

He switched on his electric kettle before grabbing a teaspoon to lever the lid off a tin of instant coffee. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing fancy here.’

‘Instant’s fine,’ she told him. With something of a start, she realised that anything was fine when Rick was being friendly and cooperative like this. Just watching him fill mugs with steaming water filled her with warm, bubbling happiness.

Rick held a mug in each hand and indicated the lounge room with his shoulder. ‘Take a seat in there and I’ll see if I can come up with any helpful hints.’

There was still only the one dilapidated director’s chair in the room and Rick sat cross-legged on the rather unattractive carpet.

Feeling like a rather hesitant Goldilocks, Maddy tried the chair. ‘I’ll sit on the carpet, too,’ she offered. ‘I feel a bit elevated up here.’

It was only after she’d lowered herself to the floor that Maddy remembered she was wearing a very short skirt. She manoeuvred herself into the most demure position possible with her knees tightly together and her legs tucked to one side. With one hand, she tugged at her tartan skirt to hold it in place, while with the other she accepted the coffee. ‘So, have you any bright ideas?’

For several long seconds Rick seemed to be having trouble coming up with an answer. ‘Er, um golf clubs.’

‘Golf clubs? You want me to park some golf clubs in a corner somewhere?’

‘They’d impress Byron, wouldn’t they?’

‘Probably, if they were really good quality, but I don’t know where I’d get them from.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘You play golf?’

Rick shook his head. ‘No, I’ve never had time to pick up the skills. As far as I’m concerned golf is a good walk interrupted. But I have a couple of friends who are mad keen golfers. I’m sure one of them will help out.’

‘That would be great. Thanks. Any other suggestions?’

Rick smiled and his grey eyes twinkled. ‘Well, there’s one obvious give-away.’

‘Yes?’

‘The toilet seat has to be up.’

Maddy laughed. ‘Of course! Goodness, I should have thought of that after living with two brothers for seventeen years.’

‘Some masculine magazines scattered—if you can bear to clutter that stunning flat of yours.’

Maddy took a sip of her coffee. It was very strong. ‘Yes, magazines are a good idea. What sort do you think would be best?’

Rick leaned back against the ugly yellow wall, raised one knee and rested his elbow on it. ‘It could be anything from a mag about game fishing to an almanac of British vintage motorcycles. I guess it rather depends on this lover of yours.’ His level gaze held hers. ‘So tell me, Maddy, what is your idea of the ultimate lover?’

Maddy felt herself blushing again. When she’d headed for Rick’s flat, she’d never intended to end up discussing her ideas about men. ‘I—I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘He’s perfect of course. The kind of guy any girl would swoon over.’

Rick’s eyes held hers for an uncomfortably long time. ‘Go on,’ he said at last. ‘Describe him.’

‘Well—um—he’s athletic, likes to keep fit,’ she began self-consciously.

Rick nodded, his grey eyes barely concealing amusement. She decided to put him in his place. He was wearing the same faded tracksuit he’d worn when she’d brought him the irises. She ran a deliberate eye over his clothes. ‘Of course, he dresses well.’

Rick’s eyes still held hers, his expression challenging.

‘He earns a decent salary,’ she continued. ‘He isn’t afraid to do some of the cooking. And he’s fun to be with—as well as thoughtful and romantic.’

‘Not a problem,’ Rick drawled with a confident grin. ‘Sounds like your average Australian bloke.’ He drained his coffee and then his eyes narrowed. ‘Just so I’m clear on this, can you define the female’s view—correction, your view—of “romantic”?’

Maddy clutched her mug to her chest. Surely this discussion was becoming more in-depth than was necessary? Once upon a time, she would have had no trouble answering that question, but now she was less sure. When Byron had produced surprise tickets to the ballet, she’d thought it was a romantic gesture until she’d discovered they were cast-offs from his mother. Most girls found gifts of flowers romantic, but her business thrived on that. It wouldn’t work for her.

At that very moment she was feeling absurdly romantic, sitting on Rick’s mouldy carpet and sipping his bitter coffee. ‘I—I guess it depends on the man,’ she said hurriedly, her mind searching desperately for a feasible answer. ‘He does whatever suits his temperament. It could be anything—maybe writing poetry or love songs or—or a dinner by candelight on a secluded balcony.’ She put the mug down beside her on the carpet and folded her hands in her lap. She kept her eyes lowered. ‘I guess it’s only limited by his imagination.’ Then she forced a light laugh and looked at Rick again. ‘Or in this case, unfortunately, by my imagination.’

Then she wished she could take back her words. Just talking to Rick Lawson about her imagination seemed to unleash ridiculous, teasing fantasies. And there was no way she could afford to blush again.

Rick considered her words for several moments. ‘Imagination can be dangerous, Maddy.’

She was stunned. Was he reading her mind? The unwanted blushes arrived with relentless punctuality.

His eyes were fixed on hers so intently, she wondered if he was angry with her. ‘So let me get this straight,’ he drawled after some time. ‘Love poetry and candlelit dinners on—what was it—secluded balconies?’

Maddy gulped. ‘It doesn’t have to be poetry…’

Rick’s smile teased her. ‘What else did you have on your list? Songs? Not too many blokes sound romantic when they try to sing.’ He scratched his head and frowned as if this whole issue was intensely serious and very puzzling. ‘I understand why the balconies need to be secluded,’ he said with a suggestive wink. ‘And I know poetic guys have always had a lot going for them. But I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned muscles, brawn…bedroom eyes…They’re not a turn-on for you, Maddy?’

‘I—I don’t remember saying that,’ she stammered. ‘But gorgeous guys are not always…romantic. Romantic men are…are thoughtful.’ She felt distinctly hot and bothered having this conversation with this particular man. Superbly built, but decidedly offhand and brusque, he broke all the silly definitions of romance she’d just outlined and yet still managed to make her heart flutter quite ridiculously.

‘So this Byron fellow of yours—he did all these romantic things for you? Wrote you poetry and wined and dined you in secluded little corners?’

Maddy quickly sipped her coffee. It had cooled and tasted terrible, but at least it helped her to cover her confusion. When she thought about her time as Byron’s fiancèe, she couldn’t remember any little romantic gestures. He’d taken her to restaurants certainly, but usually as part of ‘the gang’. He’d spent nights at her apartment…

Rick was waiting for an answer. ‘I don’t think Byron’s romantic technique is any of your business,’ she told him huffily. ‘We need to stick to practicalities.’ Her voice was slow and unsteady. ‘So, would you mind if I borrowed your shaving gear for an hour or so next Wednesday? It would be good to have some male deodorant, too.’

Rick ran his hand slowly over his chin and his eyes held a teasing glint as he considered the matter. ‘I guess I could release such essential equipment for a very short time.’

Maddy smiled. ‘Thanks, Rick. You don’t happen to have a football jersey, do you?’

‘Sorry, no. But I do have a very ancient rowing one, if that’s any use to you.’

‘Rowing? Yes, please. That’s sure to impress Cynthia.’

‘Would you like a photo? Thanks to Sam, I have a few on hand. I could autograph it: “To my darling Maddy”.’

‘Oh, er, I don’t know.’ His darling Maddy? Why did those simple words send her heart into overdrive? She knew he was joking, playing along with her game of pretence, but hearing Rick say those words made her heart beat so violently, she was afraid he would hear its drumming. How could she let one little throwaway line send her into such turmoil?

‘It would clinch the authenticity angle,’ he added.

‘I—I guess so.’

Rick’s fingers raked through his hair. ‘It’s no skin off my nose. I don’t care what you do with it afterwards. You could burn it as soon as you’re finished with it.’

Maddy plucked a loose strand of carpet. She must remember that accepting his photo was all part of the game. It meant nothing!

She hadn’t realised how long she was taking to answer him and was shocked when he jumped to his feet suddenly. ‘No, my pic wouldn’t be a good idea,’ he growled.

‘Oh?’ Maddy tried to hide her disappointment. Once she’d got over the initial shock, she had really warmed to the notion.

‘You wouldn’t want this to get too complicated and if Byron recognised me, well, things could get kind of awkward.’

Somehow Maddy doubted that Byron watched documentaries about famine in Third World countries or military coups in far-flung trouble spots. When she thought about it, he was a pretty shallow, narrow-minded sort of fellow. She was beginning to wonder exactly why she’d once found him so thrilling. On the other hand, she reflected with a pang of regret, she could appreciate that Rick Lawson would not want his public image entangled in her private affairs any more than was absolutely necessary. And, she reminded herself with a stab of dismay, he had his own girlfriend lying in hospital, so he certainly wouldn’t want to become mixed up with somebody else.

‘We’ll drop the photo idea, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll rack my brains to come up with a couple more details, but I think we’ve got the basics established for a pretty convincing deception.’ Impulsively, she stood on tiptoes. Then froze. She’d been about to drop a reassuring kiss on Rick’s cheek, just as she might have kissed her brothers, but at the last minute it didn’t seem such a good idea.

Something warned her that kissing Rick Lawson—even a light kiss on the cheek—would be nothing like kissing a brother. She stepped away quickly. ‘Thanks a lot for your promise to help, Rick.’

His gaze touched hers, then withdrew. ‘My pleasure,’ he grunted.

So that was how it was going to be, Maddy thought as she headed back down the stairs. Rick was back to scowling and grunting again. But she mustn’t let it bother her. Surely any amount of scowling would be worthwhile if Byron and Cynthia were taken in by her little subterfuge?

CHAPTER THREE

‘SO WE’LL settle for the orchids?’ Maddy looked up from her display book to check Cynthia and Byron’s reactions. They nodded simultaneously. ‘I’m sure you’ll be happy with your choice,’ she told them. ‘An orchid wedding is always very elegant.’

She rested her elbows on the table, let out a deep breath and felt her facial muscles relaxing into a smile. Things were looking good. It appeared more and more likely that the plan would work. Cynthia and Byron had been in her flat for over an hour. The flowers for the wedding were more or less settled and Cynthia’s initial gloating smirk had been wilting for some time. Barely concealing her secret delight, Maddy watched as her visitors’ eyes kept wandering to the subtle little clues she’d planted around the room.

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