Billionaire on Her Doorstep (15 page)

She could downsize. But then again it was doubtful that the next tenant would only want to clear the brambles. They’d have a wrecking ball and a bulldo zer in here so fast… And he didn’t want to see that happen to Belvedere any more than she did. He’d grown attached to the place.

But, before Tom had the chance to even begin to think of finding a way to broach the subject, a cacophony of female voices came scrambling through the front door.

Of course. It was Wednesday.

“I’ll go heat up lunch,” Tom said, gathering up the bulk of the bubble wrap in his arms and kicking the rest into the kitchen before him, leaving Maggie to brace herself against the juggernaut.

She stopped fussing and worrying as she experienced a whole new ripple of excitement as she waited for her friends to enter her brave new world.

“Maggie, you are not going to believe…” Freya’s words petered out. Sandra banged into Freya’s back as her legs failed her.

“Freya, move!” Sandra said, before she saw what had made Freya stop. “Wooooooooooow!”

“Oh, Maggie,” Freya cried, “what have you done?”

“She’s finally bought herself some furniture, the love,” Ashleighsaid, her eyes glowing as they scanned the measure and shape of the new forms in the room. She eased p ast Freya, running her sculptor’s hands over the sloping back of the couch and letting her feet slide along the new plush pile red rug. Sandra skipped about the room, picking up cushions and looking into vases to check if the bouquets of red gerberas were real. They weren’t.

““Why don’t you ladies take a seat?” Tom said, coming in from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a bottle-opener. “Lunch is on its way.”

He dumped them into Maggie hands, grinned his potent knee-weakening grin, then went back from whence he came.

“Come on, girls,’Maggie said, feeling feisty and in charge for a change, and liking it. “Do as the man says.”

She sat at the head of her new rustic eight-seater dining table, tossing the cork in the air. Freya looked from the empty kitchen doorway and back to her as if she had suddenly grown an extra head. Little did any of them know that

Maggie felt as if she had too. And she was loving every second of it.

“Sit, Freya,’she insisted. Today I feed you.”

Freya moved into the room and sniffed the air. Her face relaxed a little as she realized how edible it smelled. “Your friend Tom’s done all the cooking?”

“If that’s all right with you,” Maggie said, delighted that Freya had accidentally said something nice about him.

Freya frowne d again. “No, seriously, Maggie. You’ll poison us. Unless you’re making sandwiches, in the very least you’ll make us ill.”

“Relax. It was all Tom. I promise not to even help stir. Now, shut up, sit down and prepare to feast.”

Maggie got up from her seat and padded towards the kitchen. Tom was cooking up a tomato pasta storm. The scents bombarding her made her mouth water.

“It smells fabulous,” she said, reaching into the bubbling tomato sauce for a fingerful. Tom slapped her hand away before she got more than a drop.

He’d already made a mess of her kitchen; half the utensils were dirty and there were re d sp lattere d b ow Is ap lenty, but she” d never seen her kitchen look so fabulous. “Who was she kidding? She’d never seen the world lookso fabulous as she had that day.

“Are they sitting?” Tom asked.

“Nope. I think they’re in shock.”

“I hope they’ll still eat.”

“Oh, they’ll eat. I’ve never known three women so fond of eating. But first they’ll have to go over every piece of furniture with an artist’s eye and then give me their honest opinions.”

“Not the shy, retiring types, are they?” Tom asked.

“Not hardly. But I hope you’ll stay for lunch this time. And that you’ll like them, even after spending more than five minutes in their company.” Maggie licked the spot of tomato sauce off her finger before it dripped on to the floor.

“Is it so important that I like them?’he asked, stirring away.

Maggie stopped with her finger to her mouth. The weightlessness in her he art dissipate d as she thought back over what she had said.

She’d woken in such a good mood, such a light-hearted mood, such a playful, hopeful mood, she’d forgotten that the rest of the world hadn’t changed overnight as she had.

Sure she was still married, but even if she wasn’t, Tom was still wholly unavailable. Whereas she knew right down deep in her heart that finally she was done running, she felt just as strongly that Tom wasn’t. It see me d it would take constant reminding to remember it.

“I… I just want to make sure all of my friends get along,” she said.

“Right,’he drawled. “I forgot we were now friends.”

“Well, yes. Of course we are. I don’t let just anybody use my pre cious saucepan.”

“You don’t even use your precious saucepan.”

“Well, I’m just saying - “

That it’s important to you that your friends like me.” He winked at her. “Okay. I get it.”

Before Maggie could qualify that comment, Tom placed a pile of dinner plates into her arms, spun her on the spot and gave her a shove towards the dining room.

She had a dining room! A lounge suite. A rug. And somehow even her painting corner didn’t look so much like an island, but like a piece of living art in itself.

“I can’t believe you spent all this money in one hit,” said Freya. “Unless… did you sell something new? Oh, Maggie that would be wonderful news.”

“Ah, no,” Maggie said, her voice quiet and soft, doing her best not to let it carry to the kitchen. “Just some royalties.”

“Well, that’s great too. So does that me an you’re out of the red? Are you here to stay?”

“Well. No. Not yet.” “

“Maggie…” Freya began.

“I bought this stuff because I wanted it, Freya. I thought it about time to surround myself with things that make me happy. Even if I only get to enjoy them for a couple of weeks, at least I’ll have those couple of weeks. You’re the one who was so insistent I reconnect with myself .Well, myself wanted a couch.”

“Leave her be, Freya,’said Sandra. “It’s her money. Her life. She can glue every last cent to one of her paintings and call it art if she wants.”

Thank you, Sandra,” Maggie said.

“Right. But you should have bought red couches. These just blend way too much in here,” Sandra said.

Maggie felt steam rising. She loved these guys. Really she did. But they really could be an overbearing bunch of so-and-sos. “So what do you think of my new stuff?’she asked Ashleigh.

Ashleigh smiled, patted her on the cheek and said, “I think it’s about time.”

Maggie nodded. “Me, too. I’m done with marking time and saving my pennies and waiting for the other shoe to drop, guys. You all promised coming here would help me turn over a new leaf. And this is how I’ve turned. Like it or lump it.”

The room grew silent bar the thumping of a pulse in Maggie’s head. The sound of a spoon scraping against a saucepan in the kitchen beyond broke the deathly quiet. Tom was right, she thought, picturing him whistling softly and pretending not to listen - they weren’t the shy, retiring types. But then, stuff it, neither was she.

“Well, you definitely need a vase in that far comer. I’ve got just the one. In cream. Reflective glaze,’said Freya, which for Freya was as much as giving in.

And Maggie could have hugged her.

An hour later the four of them sat back on Maggie’s couches. Replete. Maggie had her feet up on the coffee table, Sandra’s feet were dangling over the armrest and Freya was cross-legged and comfortable. And Maggie wished for about the eighteenth time that day that she had just gone ahead and done this months ago.

This has been fun, guys, but it’s time for me to get to work,” Tom said, peeling his long body from a dining chair he’d dragged over beside the couch.

Maggie watched with a small smile on her face as he lifted the chair and placed it back where it belonged. And she knew the reason she hadn’t bought herself a house full of furniture six months before was because she had been at a loose end. Until Tom had come along and simply advised her not to expect the worst any more.

“My boss is a slave-driver,” Tom said, winking at her. “If she knew I’d taken this long for lunch, I’d likely lose a limb.”

Thanks, Tom,’the girls all called out at once, before lolling back into the soft chairs with mingled laughter.

He gave them a salute and a smile, saving his last look for Maggie. His smile changed, shifted, softened, warmed, lingered and then he was gone.

Maggie leant her elbows on her knees and her chin on her palms and enjoyed the calm before the storm. She’d known that inviting Tom for lunch would only cause dissent in the ranks, but that was just too bad. He’d been nothing but sweet to her and he deserved to be known for more than dating the American broad’.

But now they were alone, just her Wednesday girls and her, all bets were off.

“I hear rumours you had a date Saturday night,” Freya said before Tom was barely out the door.

“We haddimerSMaggie said. “Accidentally” Even she heard the dsfensiveness in her voice and she wasn’t surprised when the mood in the room shifted as shackles rose and sensitivities grew.

“Oh, what have you gone and done, Mags?” Freya asked, eyes wide and alarmed.

Here we go… “I’ve done nothing.”

“Rubbish. You’ve done something. You slept with him.”

She shook her head. “I did no such thing.”

Then you’ve definitely kissed him,” Freya accused.

Maggie shook her head again. “Nope. Haven’t.”

“I know! I know! She’s fallen in love with him,” Sandra said, slapping her hand over her mouth as though wishing to take the words back.

Maggie tried to shake her head. She really did. She squeezed and clamped her teeth tight and did her all to simply move her head left and then right, but found that her honesty meter was in high gear and she could not.

Freya’s eyes squeezed shut tight. “Oh, Maggie.”

“You’ve actually fallen for the hunk?” Sandra bubbled. “With the muscles and the voice and those gorgeous eyes and the to-die-for pasta recipe and - ?”

The guy currently working at the bottom of my back stairs,” Maggie hissed. It was far too late before she realized what she had just admitted.

Sandra leapt out of the chair and clapped her hands and hugged Maggie until she could barely breathe.

“But you’ve known him - what? A week? Two weeks?” Freya asked.

“How long did it take for you to fall for the twins’ father?” Maggie said. Freya’s pale cheeks grew red and blotchy and Maggie knew it had been a low blow. But she was panicking. Because she hadn’t fallen for Tom. She liked having him around, that was all. She liked that he always looked out for her. She liked the way he looked and the way he looked at her. She liked that he made her feel smart, funny, beautiful and talented, and she liked that he liked the fact that she was all those things.

“What she didn’t like was Freya looking at her as if she’d gone out of her mind. “So I like him! A lot. More than a lot. Okay, so I’m crazy about him. That doesn’t make me crazy. Does it?’

“Sandra, what do you think?”

Sandra unbuttoned her lips. “I think he’s hot.”

“Right. Excellent. Ashleigh?”

Ashleigh sat calmly upright in her chair. “What we think isn’t the topic here, my sweet. We are here to help you forage your way through your hormones and reservations to see what you think.”

Tremendous. Helpful. Thanks.”

“No. This is all wrong. What about Carl?” Freya cried out, clutching at straws.

“What about him?” Maggie asked, her voice surprisingly calm considering Freya had deigned to use the “C word.

“Well, this guy’s nothing like Carl,” Freya said, her voice shaky. “He’s…sweaty.”

And Maggie burst out laughing. Of all the things Freya could have come up with, that was it? “Carl could be sweaty, Freya,” she said. “He just didn’t carry it off quite as spectacularly well as Tom does.”

Freya shuddered. “I know Carl did an unforgivable thing to you, Maggie. But he’s urbane and sophisticated. He understands the circles we run in. And, though you can be a real pain in the ass at times, his maturity meant that he never told you so once.”

“And how did that work out for her?” Ashleigh asked, as always appearing just at the opportune moment to shine the light of inspiration where it most needed to be shone.

Freya’s mouth snapped shut. For after that there was nothing to say. Maggie let her feet drop to the floor, then moved sideways and reached out to hug her stiff friend.

The truth was, that renowned maturity of his always frustrated the hell out of me,” Maggie said. “I get moody. I get PMT. Heck, every now and then I am just plain grumpy. And he never said a word. I never really thought it was all that healthy for him to keep it all bunched up inside.”

“So how is it with Tom?” Sandra asked, asking the question that they’d been skirting around.

“Do you really want to know?” Maggie asked, her view glancing off Freya.