Dr Drop-Dead Gorgeous

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.