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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.
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.
