Borrowed Bachelor

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Rick shook his head as he lounged against the door-jamb. ‘You’ve totally lost me again.’

‘I need your help. Actually, I need to inspect your flat.’

‘Like hell you do.’ His scowl deepened.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s important. It’s necessary research. I need to see how a man lives,’ Maddy told him cheerfully.

Rick looked so startled, Maddy thought he was going to drop the casserole dish.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She was getting tired of hovering in the hallway. Rick Lawson certainly didn’t go out of his way to be hospitable. ‘When Byron and Cynthia come. When they arrive at my place, I have to pretend that I have a—new lover. You know, a live-in lover. Remember? I told Cynthia in the shop that day that he was moving in.’

‘So you’re going to keep this subterfuge going as a morale booster, are you?’ Rick drawled.

Maddy hesitated. If Rick was going to be negative or cynical about her plans, she would get nowhere. ‘Well, yes. I couldn’t bear to have Cynthia catch me out. And Byron and Cynthia will get the picture that I’m not jealous much more clearly if I have my own gorgeous hunk of live-in masculinity, won’t they?’

‘I—I guess so.’ Rick stared at her and she could have sworn his jaw thrust forward slightly. ‘So, where exactly does my flat fit into all of this?’

‘Oh, Rick, please let me in and then I’ll explain. After all, you bounced into my flat unannounced the other night and all’s fair in love and war.’

He stood frowning for a little longer before he finally shrugged and stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. ‘I can’t promise you’ll be impressed.’

‘I’m not expecting to be impressed,’ said Maddy, beaming triumphantly as she followed Rick into his lounge room. ‘I have two brothers and their rooms have always looked like war zones. But I wasn’t sure if they were typical of the male species.’

Halfway across his lounge room, Rick paused. ‘So you’ve never been in another man’s apartment?’

Her confidence faltered. ‘N-no. Not alone with a man who lives—alone.”

‘There must have been boyfriends?’

‘At uni I lived in a residential college—so did most of the guys I dated. I occasionally saw their rooms, but it’s not quite the same.’

‘What about Dracula? What’s his name again?’

‘Byron.’ She shot him a drop-dead look. ‘He lives with his mother. And she still does everything for him.’

One of Rick’s eyebrows rose and he smiled at her. ‘One might almost feel sympathy for Cynthia.’

Maddy allowed herself a small chuckle. ‘Yes. She might be in for one or two surprises.’

‘Perhaps you had a lucky escape.’

‘Perhaps…’

By the time Maddy had journeyed through Rick’s flat and reached his kitchen, it was her turn to be surprised. His flat was amazingly neat. Neat wasn’t really the word for it. It was spartan. ‘Your—your flat is virtually empty!’ she cried in dismay.

‘Welcome to masculine perfection,’ he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes.

‘Well,’ he went on defensively, ‘these are only temporary digs. This isn’t my home, you know. Not that I really have a home anymore.’ He paused and frowned. ‘I’m never settled in one place for long. I couldn’t get a furnished apartment close to the hospital for just a few weeks and I didn’t want to waste money getting a whole lot of unnecessary furniture.’ Setting the casserole dish down on a kitchen bench, he turned to her. ‘So, Ms Delancy, what exactly did you want to know about male habitats?’

Maddy chewed her soft lower lip. She’d been afraid Rick would make fun of her scheme and it seemed her fears were warranted. Still, she was committed to this appointment with Byron and Cynthia now, and so she had to press on. ‘Well, you said yourself the other night that there was no sign of a man in my flat, so I want to plant evidence of a man’s existence about the place. I guess if you can’t—or won’t—help me I can make it up myself—a football sweater draped over a chair, joggers under the sofa, shaving gear in the bathroom.’

‘Bathroom?’ His forehead wrinkled in surprise. ‘Do you need to go into that much detail?’

‘Definitely. I’m sure Cynthia is the type to investigate the bathroom cabinet while she visits—just so she can check out every intimate detail. If she had time she would probably snoop around the bedroom too.’

‘What might she hope to find there?’

To her annoyance, Maddy felt her cheeks burn. ‘I was actually thinking of pyjamas.’ She looked at him shyly. ‘You don’t happen to have a spare pair, do you?’

‘To leave poking out from under your pillow?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Sorry,’ Rick grinned. ‘I never use them. Can’t help you there at all.’

‘Oh…’ Maddy made a show of examining her nails while she tried to banish thoughts of Rick between the sheets and without pyjamas.

‘I’m starting to get the picture.’ He looked around his bare kitchen. ‘Would you like some coffee? Or perhaps a beer?’

‘Coffee would be lovely.’

He switched on his electric kettle before grabbing a teaspoon to lever the lid off a tin of instant coffee. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing fancy here.’

‘Instant’s fine,’ she told him. With something of a start, she realised that anything was fine when Rick was being friendly and cooperative like this. Just watching him fill mugs with steaming water filled her with warm, bubbling happiness.

Rick held a mug in each hand and indicated the lounge room with his shoulder. ‘Take a seat in there and I’ll see if I can come up with any helpful hints.’

There was still only the one dilapidated director’s chair in the room and Rick sat cross-legged on the rather unattractive carpet.

Feeling like a rather hesitant Goldilocks, Maddy tried the chair. ‘I’ll sit on the carpet, too,’ she offered. ‘I feel a bit elevated up here.’

It was only after she’d lowered herself to the floor that Maddy remembered she was wearing a very short skirt. She manoeuvred herself into the most demure position possible with her knees tightly together and her legs tucked to one side. With one hand, she tugged at her tartan skirt to hold it in place, while with the other she accepted the coffee. ‘So, have you any bright ideas?’

For several long seconds Rick seemed to be having trouble coming up with an answer. ‘Er, um golf clubs.’

‘Golf clubs? You want me to park some golf clubs in a corner somewhere?’

‘They’d impress Byron, wouldn’t they?’

‘Probably, if they were really good quality, but I don’t know where I’d get them from.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘You play golf?’

Rick shook his head. ‘No, I’ve never had time to pick up the skills. As far as I’m concerned golf is a good walk interrupted. But I have a couple of friends who are mad keen golfers. I’m sure one of them will help out.’

‘That would be great. Thanks. Any other suggestions?’

Rick smiled and his grey eyes twinkled. ‘Well, there’s one obvious give-away.’

‘Yes?’

‘The toilet seat has to be up.’

Maddy laughed. ‘Of course! Goodness, I should have thought of that after living with two brothers for seventeen years.’

‘Some masculine magazines scattered—if you can bear to clutter that stunning flat of yours.’

Maddy took a sip of her coffee. It was very strong. ‘Yes, magazines are a good idea. What sort do you think would be best?’

Rick leaned back against the ugly yellow wall, raised one knee and rested his elbow on it. ‘It could be anything from a mag about game fishing to an almanac of British vintage motorcycles. I guess it rather depends on this lover of yours.’ His level gaze held hers. ‘So tell me, Maddy, what is your idea of the ultimate lover?’

Maddy felt herself blushing again. When she’d headed for Rick’s flat, she’d never intended to end up discussing her ideas about men. ‘I—I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘He’s perfect of course. The kind of guy any girl would swoon over.’

Rick’s eyes held hers for an uncomfortably long time. ‘Go on,’ he said at last. ‘Describe him.’

‘Well—um—he’s athletic, likes to keep fit,’ she began self-consciously.

Rick nodded, his grey eyes barely concealing amusement. She decided to put him in his place. He was wearing the same faded tracksuit he’d worn when she’d brought him the irises. She ran a deliberate eye over his clothes. ‘Of course, he dresses well.’

Rick’s eyes still held hers, his expression challenging.

‘He earns a decent salary,’ she continued. ‘He isn’t afraid to do some of the cooking. And he’s fun to be with—as well as thoughtful and romantic.’

‘Not a problem,’ Rick drawled with a confident grin. ‘Sounds like your average Australian bloke.’ He drained his coffee and then his eyes narrowed. ‘Just so I’m clear on this, can you define the female’s view—correction, your view—of “romantic”?’

Maddy clutched her mug to her chest. Surely this discussion was becoming more in-depth than was necessary? Once upon a time, she would have had no trouble answering that question, but now she was less sure. When Byron had produced surprise tickets to the ballet, she’d thought it was a romantic gesture until she’d discovered they were cast-offs from his mother. Most girls found gifts of flowers romantic, but her business thrived on that. It wouldn’t work for her.

At that very moment she was feeling absurdly romantic, sitting on Rick’s mouldy carpet and sipping his bitter coffee. ‘I—I guess it depends on the man,’ she said hurriedly, her mind searching desperately for a feasible answer. ‘He does whatever suits his temperament. It could be anything—maybe writing poetry or love songs or—or a dinner by candelight on a secluded balcony.’ She put the mug down beside her on the carpet and folded her hands in her lap. She kept her eyes lowered. ‘I guess it’s only limited by his imagination.’ Then she forced a light laugh and looked at Rick again. ‘Or in this case, unfortunately, by my imagination.’

Then she wished she could take back her words. Just talking to Rick Lawson about her imagination seemed to unleash ridiculous, teasing fantasies. And there was no way she could afford to blush again.

Rick considered her words for several moments. ‘Imagination can be dangerous, Maddy.’

She was stunned. Was he reading her mind? The unwanted blushes arrived with relentless punctuality.

His eyes were fixed on hers so intently, she wondered if he was angry with her. ‘So let me get this straight,’ he drawled after some time. ‘Love poetry and candlelit dinners on—what was it—secluded balconies?’

Maddy gulped. ‘It doesn’t have to be poetry…’

Rick’s smile teased her. ‘What else did you have on your list? Songs? Not too many blokes sound romantic when they try to sing.’ He scratched his head and frowned as if this whole issue was intensely serious and very puzzling. ‘I understand why the balconies need to be secluded,’ he said with a suggestive wink. ‘And I know poetic guys have always had a lot going for them. But I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned muscles, brawn…bedroom eyes…They’re not a turn-on for you, Maddy?’

‘I—I don’t remember saying that,’ she stammered. ‘But gorgeous guys are not always…romantic. Romantic men are…are thoughtful.’ She felt distinctly hot and bothered having this conversation with this particular man. Superbly built, but decidedly offhand and brusque, he broke all the silly definitions of romance she’d just outlined and yet still managed to make her heart flutter quite ridiculously.

‘So this Byron fellow of yours—he did all these romantic things for you? Wrote you poetry and wined and dined you in secluded little corners?’

Maddy quickly sipped her coffee. It had cooled and tasted terrible, but at least it helped her to cover her confusion. When she thought about her time as Byron’s fiancèe, she couldn’t remember any little romantic gestures. He’d taken her to restaurants certainly, but usually as part of ‘the gang’. He’d spent nights at her apartment…

Rick was waiting for an answer. ‘I don’t think Byron’s romantic technique is any of your business,’ she told him huffily. ‘We need to stick to practicalities.’ Her voice was slow and unsteady. ‘So, would you mind if I borrowed your shaving gear for an hour or so next Wednesday? It would be good to have some male deodorant, too.’

Rick ran his hand slowly over his chin and his eyes held a teasing glint as he considered the matter. ‘I guess I could release such essential equipment for a very short time.’

Maddy smiled. ‘Thanks, Rick. You don’t happen to have a football jersey, do you?’

‘Sorry, no. But I do have a very ancient rowing one, if that’s any use to you.’

‘Rowing? Yes, please. That’s sure to impress Cynthia.’

‘Would you like a photo? Thanks to Sam, I have a few on hand. I could autograph it: “To my darling Maddy”.’

‘Oh, er, I don’t know.’ His darling Maddy? Why did those simple words send her heart into overdrive? She knew he was joking, playing along with her game of pretence, but hearing Rick say those words made her heart beat so violently, she was afraid he would hear its drumming. How could she let one little throwaway line send her into such turmoil?

‘It would clinch the authenticity angle,’ he added.

‘I—I guess so.’

Rick’s fingers raked through his hair. ‘It’s no skin off my nose. I don’t care what you do with it afterwards. You could burn it as soon as you’re finished with it.’

Maddy plucked a loose strand of carpet. She must remember that accepting his photo was all part of the game. It meant nothing!

She hadn’t realised how long she was taking to answer him and was shocked when he jumped to his feet suddenly. ‘No, my pic wouldn’t be a good idea,’ he growled.

‘Oh?’ Maddy tried to hide her disappointment. Once she’d got over the initial shock, she had really warmed to the notion.

‘You wouldn’t want this to get too complicated and if Byron recognised me, well, things could get kind of awkward.’

Somehow Maddy doubted that Byron watched documentaries about famine in Third World countries or military coups in far-flung trouble spots. When she thought about it, he was a pretty shallow, narrow-minded sort of fellow. She was beginning to wonder exactly why she’d once found him so thrilling. On the other hand, she reflected with a pang of regret, she could appreciate that Rick Lawson would not want his public image entangled in her private affairs any more than was absolutely necessary. And, she reminded herself with a stab of dismay, he had his own girlfriend lying in hospital, so he certainly wouldn’t want to become mixed up with somebody else.

‘We’ll drop the photo idea, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll rack my brains to come up with a couple more details, but I think we’ve got the basics established for a pretty convincing deception.’ Impulsively, she stood on tiptoes. Then froze. She’d been about to drop a reassuring kiss on Rick’s cheek, just as she might have kissed her brothers, but at the last minute it didn’t seem such a good idea.

Something warned her that kissing Rick Lawson—even a light kiss on the cheek—would be nothing like kissing a brother. She stepped away quickly. ‘Thanks a lot for your promise to help, Rick.’

His gaze touched hers, then withdrew. ‘My pleasure,’ he grunted.

So that was how it was going to be, Maddy thought as she headed back down the stairs. Rick was back to scowling and grunting again. But she mustn’t let it bother her. Surely any amount of scowling would be worthwhile if Byron and Cynthia were taken in by her little subterfuge?

CHAPTER THREE

‘SO WE’LL settle for the orchids?’ Maddy looked up from her display book to check Cynthia and Byron’s reactions. They nodded simultaneously. ‘I’m sure you’ll be happy with your choice,’ she told them. ‘An orchid wedding is always very elegant.’

She rested her elbows on the table, let out a deep breath and felt her facial muscles relaxing into a smile. Things were looking good. It appeared more and more likely that the plan would work. Cynthia and Byron had been in her flat for over an hour. The flowers for the wedding were more or less settled and Cynthia’s initial gloating smirk had been wilting for some time. Barely concealing her secret delight, Maddy watched as her visitors’ eyes kept wandering to the subtle little clues she’d planted around the room.