Borrowed Bachelor
‘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.