The Patterson Girls (37 page)

‘Comfortable?' He couldn't be taking her to a restaurant or a club then. ‘Where are we going?'

‘It's a surprise.'

‘What if I don't want to go out?' She crossed her arms over her chest.

He raised one eyebrow. ‘Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.'

And at his terrible impersonation of Rhett Butler, she smiled for the first time that day and went off to slip into jeans, all the while trying to guess where they were going.

‘Are we going to the movies?' she asked when she emerged.

He merely grinned and held open the front door. As they descended to the ground floor and then drove through the city, she kept firing possibilities at him and he infuriated her by not answering.

Then, he turned into a car park of a building with a bright flashing bowling ball on the top of it. ‘No way,' she said.

‘Yes, way,' he replied, still grinning.

Lacing up her shoes a few minutes later, she looked across at him and laughed. ‘I cannot remember the last time I went bowling.'

‘Me either. Celia refuses—says she wouldn't be seen dead in goofy clown shoes.' Sitting next to her, he stretched his legs and flexed his feet, modelling the shoes he'd just put on.

‘She may have a point.' But, shoes aside, Madeleine couldn't imagine perfect Celia ever stepping into a place like this.

‘Once you get past the terrible outfits,' Hugo said, ‘bowling can be addictive. And very therapeutic.' This reference was as close as he came to mentioning today's disappointment. Then he stood, walked over to the ball chute and picked up a bright orange bowling ball. ‘I hope you're not a sore loser,' he called over his shoulder as he launched his ball right into the gutter.

She was still laughing when it was her turn to bowl and she staggered to her feet, picked up her hot pink ball and hurled it down the alley, knocking down all ten pins in one shot.

‘What the fuck!' Hugo roared. ‘Do you come here and do this on your lunch breaks or something?'

She smiled smugly and shrugged. ‘Beginner's luck.' They both knew doctors didn't get lunch breaks.

‘I'm just warming up,' Hugo said, going forward for his next turn. And this time he hit nine balls and got the last pin on his second bowl. Both her balls went down the gutter, which sent her and Hugo into another round of hysterics. On either side of them were serious groups, dressed head to foot in goofy bowling outfits. They all seemed to have their own balls and special bags to carry them, each embroidered with their name. Larry, Wayne, Alvin and Dennis were clearly unimpressed with Madeleine and Hugo's silliness, but she was having the best time.

Hugo was right. Staring down an alley at ten little white pins and then trying to hurl a heavy ball right into them worked wonders for her mood. The two glasses of wine she'd gulped before Hugo arrived might also have had something to do with it, but either way she felt a million times better than she had a few hours ago. Between games they ordered hot dogs and chips from a pimply, gangly teenager at the café and then washed it all down with beer.

Although it was late and there weren't any kids around, Madeleine couldn't help imagining Hugo taking their child bowling and that made her smile. Just something else to add to list of why he'd be the perfect donor; another argument for ignoring the reasons he was not.

‘What are you grinning at?' Hugo asked, taking another slug of his beer.

She blinked. ‘Nothing. Just happy I guess.'

‘It's fun, isn't it.'

‘Yes. Thank you for dragging me out. I needed it.'

‘No worries. Now, drink up, we have another game to play. And tomorrow, we're both back on the wagon.'

Madeleine guessed that meant he was still happy to be her donor, but she decided not to mention that right now. Tonight wasn't about babies. It was about letting loose and having fun with a good friend. They played another game and if anything they were getting worse, but neither of them cared and when they were finished he took her home and saw her right back to her door.

‘Would you like to come in for coffee?' she asked, and then blushed in case he thought she meant something else.

He shook his head. ‘I better not.'

‘All right. Good night then.'

He smiled and turned to go but then turned again when he'd gone only a few steps. He walked up to her and grabbed hold of her hands. Her heart, pounding uncontrollably, shot up to her throat.

‘It'll be all right, Mads,' he said. ‘We can do this. I promise.'

It sounded like the kind of pep talk Joe would give Lucinda—one partner bolstering up another. As if they were in this together, as if Hugo wanted this as much as she did.

‘I know.' Madeleine forced a smile, inwardly reminding herself that he was not her partner and they were not doing this the traditional way.

No matter how much she wished they were.

Chapter Thirty

Don't forget your violin!

Abigail laughed at Nigel's message and then typed back,
Maybe.
Her naked violin recitals were becoming a bit of a thing for them and she had to admit they turned her on as much as they did him. Her dad would be appalled if he knew how she was putting all those years of tuition to use but she couldn't summon one iota of guilt. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Tease
, came his reply.
I'll see you soon.

Putting her phone down on the dresser, she turned back to the mirror to finish scrutinising her outfit. ‘Do I look ready for a ball?' she asked her reflection. The bathroom light glinted off the gold silk of her floor-length dress. Her legs may have been covered, but the way the fabric hugged her figure and dipped low at her back left little to the imagination. She couldn't wait to see the look on Nigel's face when he picked her up.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a ball, but the way Nigel had described it, this advertising awards dinner sounded pretty flash and she didn't want to let him down. She applied the finishing touches to her makeup and then went back into her bedroom to grab her evening bag, overnighter and violin.

‘You going out
again
?' Pamela asked from her position on the couch as Abigail trekked through the tiny living room to get to the front door. It was a lovely spring evening out; waiting outside for Nigel would be preferable to making small talk with Sam and Pamela for the next ten minutes.

‘Yep,' she replied, her voice light to match the spring in her step. ‘Don't wait up.'

They probably thought the violin a ruse, and that her frequent late nights were because she was stripping in a bar or something. How else could someone who'd been expelled from the orchestra possibly be earning money?

They could think what they like. Abigail didn't give a toss.

She closed the door behind her, walked down the front steps and then killed time catching up on Facebook while she waited. Charlie had dragged the Meadow Brook Motel into the era of social media by creating a page on which she regularly uploaded photos of her redecorating progress. Abigail had to hand it to her. The improvements made the old place look better than she'd ever imagined possible. In some photos, it almost sparkled. Of course it would never be able to compete with the kind of hotel Nigel was whisking her away to tonight, but it wasn't fair to make such a comparison.

At the sound of a car approaching, she looked up and smiled as a sleek, black limo slid to a stop just in front of her. When the chauffeur walked around to open the door for her, Abigail couldn't help glancing back at the townhouse. Sure enough, Pamela and Sam had their beady eyes pressed up against the window. Nosy parkers. She waved her immaculately manicured fingers at them, passed her violin case to the driver and then uttered her thanks as she climbed inside.

‘Hey, good looking. Can I tempt you?' Nigel greeted her with a crystal flute of pink bubbly and patted the plush leather seat.

‘Do you mean with the champagne or with something else?' Because he looked very temping in that swish, black tux. She slipped in beside him and kissed him firmly on the lips.

He placed the champagne glass in the holder and pulled her up against him. ‘Vixen,' he murmured before recapturing her lips.

She loved it when he called her that. She loved it when he kissed her too. She couldn't recall a night they'd been together when she'd done anything but smile. And it wasn't just the earthmoving sex. He made her laugh all the time, and she could talk to him about anything. Well, almost anything.

She slipped her hands inside his jacket, loving the way his firm abs tightened beneath her touch.

Nigel groaned and pulled back. ‘We can't. Not now. Not here. Not before …'

Reining in her disappointment, Abigail nodded and tried to catch her breath. ‘Sorry.'

‘Never apologise for turning me on,' he whispered, smiling as he reached out and brushed aside a few strands of flyaway hair that had fallen across her face. ‘Just try not to do it for the next few minutes. I can't turn up at the Awards with a boner jutting out the front of my trousers.'

She snorted and glanced down at his groin, which sure enough boasted a rather impressive tent. ‘I'll do my best.'

Grinning, he reached over and grabbed the two champagne flutes, handing one to her. ‘Maybe we should talk about something boring, something safe, something that doesn't make me want to jump your bones.'

‘Like …?' Glowing from his hot words, she racked her brain—conversation with Nigel was never boring.

‘My grandma sent me a picture of her new slippers yesterday. It's apparently getting cold Down Under and she thought I'd like to see them.' He pulled out his phone to show her, chuckling. ‘They are green with yellow dots, not those silly fluffy pink ones in case you were wondering. She likes keeping me up to date.'

‘She sounds like quite a character. She'd probably get on like a house on fire with my Aunt Mags,' Abigail said, taking another sip and relishing the way the bubbles felt on her tongue. Imagine if she fell pregnant and had to go without this deliciousness for nine whole months? Or was it ten? The timing had always confused her.

‘My whole family are characters. Why do you think I chose to live all the way over here on the other side of the world?'

‘I was thinking it was because you were ambitious.'

He chuckled. ‘Maybe a little.'

As they drove across London sharing crazy family stories (of which Abigail had plenty as well) they remarked on the various landmarks they passed. They'd both seen the main tourist sights—Big Ben, the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey and the like—but Abigail admitted to wanting to go further afield and explore some of England's famous castles.

‘I'll come with you,' Nigel said, squeezing her hand. ‘Maybe we could hire a car and make a long weekend of it some time.'

Abigail wasn't sure fuck buddies went away to the country to see castles together, but then again, the more time she spent with Nigel, the less she wanted to be
just
fuck buddies anyway. ‘That sounds great.'

Before they could plot their weekend getaway, the limo pulled into the grand entrance of one of London's finest hotels. The footmen were dressed in such finery (tails and top hats, no less) that they looked as if they could work for the queen herself. Once they'd checked in at reception and left their luggage with the concierge, they made their way to the ballroom.

‘I don't think I've told you how amazing you look tonight,' Nigel whispered, drawing her close to him as they waited to go in. ‘Let's hope this thing doesn't go too late.'

Desire rippled through Abigail at Nigel's words and all she could think about was ripping off his tux and getting down and dirty. A waiter passed with a tray of alcoholic beverages and Abigail snatched one, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long sip. She wasn't pregnant yet, so she may as well enjoy herself that night. Besides, she needed the coolness of the expensive champagne to lower her rapidly rising body temperature.

‘Nigel! Abigail!'

At the sound of their names, she turned to see Daniel and his wife, Liane, behind them.

‘Hi.' She smiled as Nigel's boss leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Nigel did the same to Liane and then the men shook hands.

‘Lovely to see you again, Abigail,' Liane said. They'd already met through her daughter's music lessons. ‘Livia won't stop raving about you. She's loving music since you've taken over the teaching.'

‘Yes,' Daniel agreed. ‘We used to have to bribe her to practise; now we almost have to tear her away to do other things.'

‘She's an absolute delight,' Abigail replied, basking in their compliments.

‘She's certainly come on in leaps and bounds since you started with her,' Liane said, grinning. ‘Now, tell me, where did you get that fabulous dress?'

‘Oh, this old thing? It's actually my mother's.'

‘I love vintage dresses,' Liane gushed. ‘She has impeccable taste.'

‘
Had
,' Abigail said before she could help herself. She absentmindedly brushed a hand over the silk. ‘Mum died six months ago. This was one of the dresses my sisters and I couldn't bear to throw out.'

Liane reached out and squeezed Abigail's hand, sympathy in her eyes. ‘I'm sorry for your loss. I can see why you wanted to keep it.'

‘Thanks.' Abigail swallowed, not wanting to cry here of all places. The loss of her mother hit her at the oddest moments, sometimes completely taking her by surprise.

When they finally made it into the ballroom, Liane stayed close to Abigail, introducing her to the other partners sitting at their table.

‘Lovely to meet you,' smiled a woman with a blonde bob sitting directly opposite Abigail. ‘Are you in advertising as well?'

‘No.' Abigail laughed, shook her head and nodded to Nigel who sat beside her. ‘I'm here with him.'