"No, of course not. Just something casual, like two old friends catching up."
He could do that. They were old friends, sort of. And if Maddie misconstrued it as a real date, so what? It might make the evening more interesting.
A date with Maddie—the idea quickly grew on him.
"But would she go out with me? I mean, as friends? We weren't exactly close."
Linda's attention was momentarily diverted to Ronan as he returned to the cupboard door. "You're beginning to drive me nuts, young man." She picked him up and handed him a teething rusk. "Knock yourself out." She sat back down. "Where were we? Oh yes, taking Maddie out. And yes, she'll go out with you. Trust me."
"I don't know," he hedged. "I'm not really her type."
"Yes you are." She said it a little too vehemently for Sam's liking. "But just in case, I'll send you there on an errand so it doesn't look contrived."
That might work. "Okay," he said, feeling like he’d just been snow-balled.
"So, how's your job?" she said. "Any plans to move back to Melbourne permanently?"
"Actually, I do. I've quit."
"What! But you were earning a fortune!"
He shrugged. "It's only money."
Linda stared open-mouthed at him until Ronan, crawling at top speed across the kitchen floor, banged his head on the table leg and cried. She picked him up and he instantly stopped as if Linda had pressed the OFF switch.
"I had no idea," she said. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"
"I told Pete last night."
She frowned at Ronan. "I'll have to have a word to your daddy when he gets home." She looked at Sam again. "But why? You had it all in Sydney."
"No, Linda, I didn't. And does it matter why? I've quit and it's final." She was worse than the Inquisition. Worse than his mother. No, not that bad.
"Okay, I get the picture."
She didn't look like she got it. She looked like someone dying to ask a million questions but not sure if it was appropriate to pry. Maybe it was time he left before she decided to fire away. He didn't want to be lectured by his best friend's wife.
A little blonde head poked around the door. "Mummy, poos."
Yep, definitely time he left.
***
If it wasn't for the doorbell chiming, Maddie might have fallen asleep in the bath. Next time she'd bring an alarm clock into the bathroom with her—drowning wasn't on her list of things to do this year.
If there was a next time. She rarely took baths because when she did, she never wanted to get out and she couldn't afford to waste time luxuriating when there were things to do, like checking up on her ebay items or reading through her work notes. But tonight was an exception. Pheramour needed to be diluted in water and applied to her entire body, so a bath was the obvious way. True to form, she didn't want to get out. She loved it. Oh well, she could always take the notes into the bath with her next time.
She got out and wrapped a towel around her body. She needed to get moving anyway if she wanted to see Sam tonight. It was already seven o'clock and he might make other plans soon if he hadn't already. She'd decided against calling him because it was easier to back out over the phone. Why make it easier for him?
She dried her feet so she wouldn't drip on the carpet and hurried to the door as the doorbell chimed a second time.
"All right, all right," she muttered, opening it. "Sam!"
Sam leaned against the doorframe, a plastic shopping bag dangling from his fingers. He straightened and his gaze fell to the swell of her breasts above the towel. She hiked it up but that made them jiggle. She dropped her hands to her sides and pretended Sam Hennessy wasn't staring at her breasts. True to form, everything heated, from the tips of her ears to her toes. Crap.
"What are you doing here?"
Finally, slowly, his gaze shifted to her face. "Is that any way to treat a man bearing gifts?" He held up the bag.
"Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone." She stepped aside. "Come in."
He moved past her, his bare arm grazing hers. The teenager that still lurked inside screamed "Sam Hennessy just touched me!" She caught a whiff of his masculine scent and the combined effect of his presence on the four senses—touch, smell, sight and sound—sent a thrill through her. All she needed now was to taste him. She bet he'd be delicious.
Down girl. He was not chocolate ice cream. He’d taste good smeared in the stuff though.
She followed him into her living room, concentrating on the back of his head and not the back of his jeans. "So what's in the bag?"
"Your sister asked me to give you this. She said it was important you get it and Pete was working back late and she didn’t want to drag the kids out." He handed her the bag.