Barbara Hannay: Borrowed Bachelor

“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

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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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.