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She selected a pencil and sharpened it carefully, took a deep, happy breath and made the first mark on the fresh white page. Within moments, she was completely absorbed, lost in the enchanting world of her imagination. Thank heavens it never let her down.
The flat was in darkness when Jake arrived home some time after midnight. Last night he’d tripped over something in the dark, so he turned on a light this time and he blinked as the living room came to life, blinked again when he saw the clutter on the coffee table.
Surely Mattie, the neat freak, hadn’t left this mess?
Curiosity got the better of him and he moseyed over to take a closer look.
Blow me down.
The table was covered by a painting, which Mattie had obviously left to dry. It was a pen and ink sketch, coloured with pretty watercolours in a soft wash, and it showed the corner of a bathroom.
A little girl peeped out of a sea of bubbles in an elegantly curved, claw-footed bathtub. Bright rainbow-tinted bubbles drifted over the edge of the bath and onto a white fluffy mat on the floor, where a pair of pink-and-white-striped socks with lacy frills lay abandoned.
The long sleeve of a blue jersey hung over the edge of a wicker laundry basket and the cheeky face of a black cat peeked out from behind the basket.
It was such a simple little scene, drawn with an economy of lines and coloured delicately, but there was something utterly fascinating about the picture. Jake looked again at the little girl’s mousybrown curls and beady blue eyes and he chuckled softly. She looked incredibly ordinary and yet unexpectedly appealing. Not unlike her creator.
Mattie woke next morning to the unexpected sound of pots and pans being rattled in the kitchen, and when she opened her bedroom door she caught the distinctive aroma of mushrooms frying.
She’d slept in, after staying up much longer than she’d intended last night. When she’d finally finished work on her painting she’d lain awake for ages, thinking about the rest of her book, but she hadn’t heard Jake come in, so he must have been very late. How extraordinary that he was up already.
She dressed quickly, pulling on a T-shirt and jeans, and she made a hasty stop in the bathroom to wash her face and tidy her hair, then she entered the kitchen cautiously.
Jake was whisking eggs and he turned and grinned at her. ‘Morning.’
‘Good morning,’ she returned carefully.
‘I let Brutus out into the garden,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ She blinked with surprise when she saw that he’d also filled Brutus’s bowl.
‘How did such a tiny mutt end up with a name like Brutus?’ Jake asked as he watched the little dog crunch miniature biscuits.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Mattie admitted. ‘I guess his former owners had a sense of humour, even if they were careless.’
‘Former owners?’
‘I have a good friend, Lucy, who’s a vet. Someone dumped Brutus on her doorstep and she needed to find a new owner.’
Jake stopped whisking eggs. ‘And you offered.’
‘Yes.’
For a long moment, Jake watched her with the slightest hint of a smile lurking in his eyes, then he pointed to the frying pan. ‘I found some leftover mushrooms in the fridge so I’m making an omelette.’
He looked rather pleased with himself, but Mattie refused to be amused or impressed. Last night she’d been shocked by her reaction to this man and she’d vowed to remain unimpressed by anything about Jake Devlin. With a little willpower, she could rise above the attraction of his broad manly chest, his sexy smile and his flashing dark eyes.
There was simply no point in getting hot and bothered about him. Apart from the fact that he already had a girlfriend, or possibly several girlfriends, he brought back memories of the one time she’d fallen disastrously in love and she’d vowed never to put herself through that kind of agonising heartache again.
Besides, no matter how attractive Jake was, he would be gone in under a week. And, very soon after that, she would be pregnant with someone else’s baby.
No man on earth would be interested in her then.
Not that she minded. This was her year for living chastely. She was dedicated to a higher cause, to Gina and Tom’s baby. When she was old and she looked back on her life, she would see this gift to her friends as one of her greatest triumphs.
With a breezy wave of her hand, she smiled at Jake. ‘You’re welcome to the mushrooms.’
‘Would you like to share this omelette?’
‘No, thanks. I’m allergic to eggs.’
He shot her a sharp, disbelieving glance and Mattie shrugged. ‘I usually have oatmeal.’
He looked momentarily disappointed, and she couldn’t suppress a spurt of triumph. Touché, Mr Devlin.
But then he gave an offhand shrug. ‘Bad luck for you. My omelettes are legend.’
As Mattie spooned boring oatmeal and water into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave, she asked, over her shoulder, ‘So where did you learn to cook?’
‘In Mongolia, on the mine site.’
She turned to him. ‘Really?’ In spite of her vow of indifference, she was intrigued.
‘We have this fabulous cook—a French Canadian called Pierre—and, whenever I’m at a loose end, I pop into the kitchen to lend him a hand.’
‘I don’t suppose there are too many ways to spend your free time on a mine site in Mongolia.’
‘Not unless you can get a lift into the capital, Ulaanbaatar.’ Using a spatula, Jake skilfully folded the omelette in two.
‘Are you a geologist like Will?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m an enviro.’
‘What’s that?’
‘An environmental scientist.’
‘So it’s your job to make sure the mining companies don’t wreck Mongolia?’
He grinned. ‘More or less.’
‘I guess that must be rather satisfying.’
‘It’s not a bad job.’ Jake lowered the heat beneath his frying pan.
The microwave pinged and Mattie gave her oatmeal a stir.
‘What about you?’ he asked casually. ‘What do you do?’
‘Oh, I haven’t been to university, and I don’t have what you could call a career. I tend to drift from one situation to another.’
‘But you paint.’
‘Well…yes. I suppose you saw the mess I left last night. Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. I was actually glad to see stuff lying about. Now I know you’re normal.’
His sudden smile was so charming that Mattie felt a dangerous flutter inside and she was grateful when a burst of song from the cage by the window distracted them both.
She darted across the room and removed the cover from the cage. ‘Morning, Pavarotti.’
Jake snorted. ‘Pavarotti?’
‘That’s his name. Like the opera singer.’
He shook his head as he skilfully tilted the pan so that the omelette slid smoothly onto a plate.
At the cutlery drawer, Mattie fetched him a knife and fork and got a spoon for herself, and then they sat opposite each other at the small kitchen table—and Mattie knew she was in trouble.
Her insides were twittering in time with the canary’s warbling.
Jake nodded towards the bird cage as he cut into his light and fluffy omelette. ‘So you’re a fan of opera?’
Remembering the heavy metal music he’d played, she almost said yes, just to provoke him, but her habitual honesty prevailed.
‘My gran was the opera fan,’ she explained. ‘She named the canary. I wanted her to call him Elvis, but he was her bird so of course she had the last say.’ Mattie realised that further explanation was necessary. ‘My grandmother died last year and I inherited Pavarotti.’
Jake nodded slowly. ‘You were close to your grandmother?’
‘Oh, yes. I lived with her and looked after her for the last two years of her life.’
Across the table, his dark eyes registered surprise and then, eventually, an unexpected sadness. He scowled and looked more like the gruff man Mattie was used to and the flutters inside her settled. She was much more comfortable soothing other people’s worries than dealing with her own fluttery insides.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Eventually, Mattie said, ‘Do you have something interesting planned for today?’
‘I was thinking of taking in a movie.’
‘On a lovely day like this?’
His jaw stuck out as if he didn’t appreciate her implied criticism. ‘I’ve missed six months’ worth of movies. I’ve a lot of catching up to do.’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you want to come?’
The question was so unexpected that Mattie’s mouth gaped unbecomingly. Her mind whirled. She wanted to ask Jake if Ange was his girlfriend. Or was he a free agent who hooked up with the nearest available woman whenever he was on leave?
She didn’t have anything planned for the day, but if there was even a slim chance that Jake was actually asking her on a date, she should say no.
‘I’m afraid I can’t come today,’ she said quickly and decisively, before she could be tempted to change her mind. ‘I have another appointment.’
If Jake was disappointed he didn’t show it, but after he’d gone Mattie sunk to a new low. She couldn’t believe how restless and just plain miserable she felt. The flat felt hollow and empty and she seemed to rattle around inside it—like a pebble in a tin can.
In a bid to think about something else—anything else besides Jake Devlin—she rang around the local hairdressers until she found one who had a cancellation.
Two and a half hours later, she grinned with delight at her reflection in the salon’s mirror. Chestnut and copper streaks had transformed her mousy hair, and an elegant bob flattered her jawline and gave a nice emphasis to her cheekbones.
She told herself she was doing this as a prepregnancy ego boost. The new image had nothing to do with Jake. But when she got back to the flat, she took a long bath and she changed into her best dark grey trousers and cream silk blouse and she put garnet studs in her ears.
She looked fabulous, but she felt foolish. Wouldn’t Jake wonder why she’d dressed up?
She was still trying to decide if she should change again when she heard the front door open, so she dived into the kitchen and pretended to be busy in the pots and pans cupboard.
Jake came down the hall, then paused in the doorway. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘I think I’m in the wrong flat.’
To Mattie’s eternal embarrassment, she blushed.
‘I guess you’re going out?’ he said. ‘You’re all dressed up.’
‘Yes,’ she lied. As she closed the cupboard door, she hoped he couldn’t see through her fat white fib. ‘I’m meeting a friend for dinner.’
Jake nodded slowly, then said quietly, ‘Have a good evening.’
‘I will. Thanks.’
He was about to head down the hall when he turned back. ‘By the way, Mattie.’
‘Yes?’
‘The new hair looks fabulous.’
She was really mad with herself as she set off on foot down the street. Ever since she’d met Jake she’d lost her grip on her common sense. Now, she’d lied about her plans for this evening and here she was, wandering the streets of Sydney like a lost waif, looking for somewhere to eat. The really silly thing was she’d stocked the refrigerator with the ingredients for a perfectly good supper.
She decided to eat at the first place she found—a café a block away. It was a simple place with bare concrete floors, metal tables and chairs and selections of Asian-style noodles and stir-fries scrawled in chalk on blackboards.
Most of the customers were wearing jeans and T-shirts and Mattie felt distinctly overdressed, but she took a seat and was determined to enjoy herself.
She placed her order and asked for a glass of white wine and all went well for about ten minutes. Then Jake strode in.
CHAPTER THREE
MATTIE’S heart began a ridiculous thumping. Jake was dressed in black and his unruly hair was tousled by the wind as he stood at the café’s front counter. Framed by the doorway, shoulders back and feet planted wide apart, he looked unbelievably gorgeous.
She wasn’t sure if he’d seen her, but it could only be a matter of moments before he did, and even if she could come up with a plausible explanation, he’d probably realise that she’d lied about meeting a friend. Talk about embarrassing!
His dark eyes scanned the café and she quickly dropped her gaze, letting her smooth new hairstyle swing forward, hoping that it would hide her face. Perhaps she could pretend she hadn’t seen him.
Within a heartbeat, however, strong, confident footsteps rang out on the concrete floor, and they stopped at Mattie’s table. Holding her breath, she lifted her head and there he was, standing before her.
