Dr Drop-Dead Gorgeous

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.’