Borrowed Bachelor

‘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.