Borrowed Bachelor

“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.