The Pitch: City Love 2 (17 page)

I started pacing the room, the memory of my failed relationship with Chris resurfacing. Now I was finally talking about it I was determined to get it all out. “I suppose I was selfish,” I admitted. “I was only twenty-six and I’d just started to put together the idea for Grounded Marketing. I wasn’t ready for children, but Chris kept saying the younger I was the better chance we’d have.”

I stopped my pacing and stared at the panorama of the city laid out before me, lights shimmering in the distance. “Going off the pill is like hell for me, Paul. I get really sick and I wasn’t willing to put myself through that. Plus the ordeal of going through IVF for the off chance – the very slight, minuscule chance – it would all work out.”

I turned back to face him. “So we agreed to disagree and Chris left me. The only one who knows the truth is my mother. I let my girlfriends and everyone else think it was mutual. It was hard enough to accept my selfishness thrown in my face, let alone the judgment of my friends.”

Paul frowned, his forehead creasing. “I wouldn’t say you were selfish. I’d say you made an informed choice.”

“A choice which cost me my relationship,” I said, more bitterly than I’d intended.

“How can you say that?” He shook his head. “You were the one who was going to have to suffer through the reality of trying to fall pregnant. You were the one who was going to have to endure the pain. From what you’ve told me, choosing that path would have affected your health to the point where it would have prevented you from working. Is that right?”

“Yes. Probably.” I released a shaky breath.

“So how can you think that’s an act of selfishness?”

“I couldn’t give him what he wanted,” I whispered. “I didn’t even try.”

“And he shouldn’t have pushed you.”

I looked away, unable to say anything.

“It wasn’t fair of him,” he persisted.

“And it’s
not fair
that I’m not able to have children like every other woman!” There, I’d said it. I might have learned to live with it, but I still damn well felt the burden of it.

“Madeleine.” He walked to me and took both of my hands in his. “It’s not a failing, you know. It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” I blinked because I could feel the threat of tears in my eyes.

“Plenty of women have issues having children. Greg’s wife endured four rounds of IVF before they finally managed to have their eldest son, and two more to have their second.”

I knew he was trying to make me feel better. I also wasn’t so self-centered that I thought I was the only woman in the world who suffered from my condition. I squeezed both of his hands gently then freed myself from his grasp. I turned toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

I heard him sigh from behind me. “Mango chicken, massaman beef and jasmine rice.”

I walked over to the stove and took a peek in the pots still simmering gently. “My God, normal people would order out for this.”

“Tell me if you think it’s worth the effort then.” He retrieved a spoon from the bench and scooped a small amount of the chicken dish onto it. Rather than handing it to me, he came around and stood in front of me then spooned the mixture into my mouth.

The intimacy of the gesture reminded me of all we’d shared last weekend. I gave him a small smile, a type of peace offering, then groaned involuntarily. “Are you kidding? Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“I’ve always liked cooking. Being a bachelor has given me more time to experiment.”

“Again, most normal people would just order take out.”

He grinned. “Shall I assume my cooking passes the test? I almost thought of ordering pizza because your last boyfriend was a chef.”

“Chris was a good cook, but he was cordon bleu, and he actively avoided cooking when he was at home.” I’d had enough talking about my ex-boyfriend, so I gestured at the stove. “How long until it’s ready?”

“I can serve it up now. Go and sit down.”

I went to the dining table and watched him serve the meal. There was something very seductive about a grown man who knew his way around a kitchen. “I hardly ever use my kitchen,” I confessed.

“I did wonder.” Paul’s back was to me and I watched his shoulder muscles flexing through his shirt as he served up the food.

“There’s too many good take out options around here.”

He turned to me, shooting me a disapproving look. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“I sound like an adult,” he corrected.

“Just because I don’t like to cook doesn’t mean I’m not an adult.” I gave him a coy look. “Oh, that’s right. I’m a baby compared to you, aren’t I?”

He grinned. “It does appear you could do with someone around to look after you.” He walked over to the table and set the dishes down.

I surveyed the meal in front of me. “This looks wonderful. Thank you.”

“Good. It will be time to take your drugs in another hour, so eat up.”

I bit back a grin at his manly attempts to look after me, finding it endearing. I took a mouthful and savored the flavors fighting for attention in my mouth. “Oh God, Paul. How can I talk you into cooking for me more often? This is amazing.”

Paul met my eyes and they were surprisingly serious. “That depends.”

“On?”

“On whether you’d like to come over and meet my boys.”

I sat at my desk attempting to review ACB’s latest report for about the tenth time in the last hour. It was useless. With a sigh, I let my attention drift to the scene outside my window. Summer had arrived. It was now only two weeks until Christmas and Darling Harbour was busy with tourists and people enjoying after-work drinks.

A soft knock at my office door broke me out of my reverie. I turned to see my mother watching me curiously.

“Why don’t you call it a night?”

She didn’t miss much. I’d been a bundle of nerves all week. Paul’s request to meet his children was a big step for him. I knew a lot of men would see a woman for a while before introducing them to their kids. In Paul’s case, it was the reverse – he wanted me to meet his children so he could make sure pursuing a relationship with me was the right thing to do.

Not that he’d said as much. All he’d said beyond him wanting me to meet his boys was that he wanted me to be comfortable with the situation. He’d told me he wouldn’t introduce me as his girlfriend – just as a friend.

It wasn’t his intention, but I couldn’t help feeling as if it were a test.

“Maddy?”

I glanced back at my mother. I’d almost forgotten she was there. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun and instead of making her look severe, it made her look younger. I could tell her motherly instincts were burning with curiosity, so I decided to be honest. “I’m leaving soon. I’m having dinner at Paul’s in an hour.”

“That’s nice.” Her face was unreadable. “Business or personal?”

“Personal.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes. It’s about time.”

I frowned. “Why do you say that?” I asked.

“That man has had a thing for you the moment he stepped foot in this office,” she said plainly.

“And you were going to mention it to me when exactly?”

“I didn’t think I needed to mention it to you.”

“Why ever not?” I wasn’t advocating her meddling in my love life – goodness knows I had enough girlfriends to do that – but it would have been nice for her to share her insights before now.

“Because you felt exactly the same way.”

“I did?”

“Oh, good grief, Madeleine. No wonder it’s been four years since your last relationship. If you can’t recognize the way your jaw dropped the moment you saw him, I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far.”

“I – ” I actually didn’t know what to say, so I decided to go with denial. “He’s divorced with two boys. Plus he’s fifteen years older and he’s my mentor. Regardless of my obvious attraction, I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“Your father is eleven years older than me. And so what if he’s your mentor? You’re working together on the ACB account now anyway.”

“I’m glad I’ve got your approval,” I said dryly.

“Surely it’s a good thing he has children?”

I paused at her gentle tone of voice. “He’s inviting me over for dinner tonight so I can meet them.”

“And you’re stressed about it?”

I didn’t try to deny it. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Children are pretty easy going, darling. Stop worrying about impressing them and just be yourself.”

It seemed ludicrous that I was worried about impressing twelve and seven-year-old boys, but that’s exactly how I felt. I scrunched up my face in frustration. “I haven’t exactly had a lot of experience with kids.”

“They’re still human beings, you know.”

“Little human beings. With strange ways of talking. I just know I’m going to mess it up somehow.”

“Good grief. Stop
thinking
about it so much. My advice? Don’t think. Just go and have some fun.”

I smiled weakly at my mother. “Maybe it’s just as well I can’t have children. I don’t think I’m really motherhood material.”

“Nonsense.” She waved a hand in my direction. “Lack of experience, that’s all. You might surprise yourself.”

“For Paul’s sake, I hope so. Otherwise he could decide he doesn’t want to see me again.”

My mother shook her head at me, making it clear I was overreacting, then turned and walked back to her desk. With a deep sigh, I closed the spreadsheet on my computer. There was no way I was getting any more work done now.

*

Friday evening traffic was heavy and instead of catching a train across the Harbour Bridge to Paul’s house, I decided to walk. I was hoping it would eradicate my nervous tension. In reality, all I was doing was working up an unattractive sweat and increasing my already rapid heart rate.

I wiped a bead of perspiration from my forehead and quickened my pace. I had plenty of time but something about this evening was making me want to get it over with.
That’s the spirit, Madeleine.
I really needed to snap out of this mood. I couldn’t help wondering if children were like animals – could they smell fear?

I distracted myself for the rest of the walk by focusing on the surrounding scenery. I was in the harborside suburb of Lavender Bay, full of post-war apartment buildings and beautiful nineteenth and twentieth century houses. The road narrowed and a row of Victorian era terrace houses with ornate windows and verandas dominated the high side of the street. My steps faltered when I arrived in front of number six. “Wow,” I said to no one in particular.

Paul’s terrace was located at the end, painted a simple off-white color with dusky blue window frames and trims. It was beautiful. For some reason I hadn’t expected him to live in a house like this. I’d imagined something sleek and modern, not historic and full of character.

I opened the gate and made my way up a series of steps to the front porch. A paved courtyard area lay to the left of the steps and I paused, momentarily breathless. A wooden table and chairs sat amid a neatly kept garden, the view overlooking Lavender Bay and the city. The Harbour Bridge dominated the skyline, with Opera House in the distance.

“Some view,” I whispered. I wondered if this was where Paul had been enjoying a relaxing beer the night we’d been emailing each other.

I tore my eyes away from the view and made my way up the remaining steps. I reached out to press the doorbell, but stopped when I heard strange noises coming from inside the house. I frowned, confused. I could hear high-pitched screaming – or maybe that was squealing – and raucous laughter. Then a number of loud thuds and heavy footfalls that sounded like running. What on earth was going on?

Against my better judgment I pressed the doorbell. The noise immediately stopped. Seconds later the front door opened.

“Madeleine. Hi.”

I stared at Paul. He was wearing jeans and a casual gray T-shirt. His hair was ruffled and he looked puffed.

“You’ll have to excuse the boys, they’re just letting off some steam,” he explained.

I peered down the empty hallway curious as to what the boys looked like, but saw no sign of them.

“Come in.” Paul gestured me in and gave me a polite peck on the cheek.

I walked past him, down a high ceilinged hallway. It opened into a lounge and kitchen area and I inhaled an unsteady breath. I felt as though I was standing in my dream house. I’d always longed for a terrace. In fact, I’d promised myself that in a few years’ time when I had more money behind me, I’d invest in my own.

Paul’s was decorated tastefully. Simple black leather sofas and warm wooden tables and furniture contrasted the cream walls and highlighted the Victorian elegance of the house. “I love your place,” I told him honestly.

“Thanks.”

I followed him into an open plan kitchen area, made of timber and dark granite benches. “Can I get you a drink?”

“
Freeze!”

I clutched my chest and did exactly that. A tall boy with a mop of blond hair and Paul’s blue eyes was standing at the foot of the stairs. He wore a red bandana wrapped around his head and had a fierce look on his face.

Paul sent the boy a warning glance. “Jack? Later, alright? My friend Madeleine is here.”

Jack’s pale blue eyes surveyed me for another second then fixated on his father. “Noah is coming. I need reinforcements.”

“Jack – ”

“
Aaaargh!”

I jumped again. A blur of color sped in from an adjoining room and latched onto Jack’s back, pulling him to the floor.

“Dad! Help me,” Jack cried. I could barely make him out from underneath a smaller boy’s figure. Whoever it was – Noah I was guessing – seemed intent on tickling Jack until he appeared to be in physical pain.

Paul looked at me regretfully, as if this was completely normal. “Sorry. I’d better sort this out.”

I expected responsible adult behavior, some sort of reprimand. Instead, Paul strode toward his sons. In one smooth movement he picked them both up, throwing a boy over each shoulder and demonstrating he was stronger than his office bound job indicated. The boys squealed in delight as their father carried them in to the lounge area. He flung them onto a beanbag and proceeded to tickle them into fits of breathless laughter.

“
Dad!”

More giggles.

“God, Dad. Enough!” yelled Jack.

“Daddy, please!” the younger boy cried.

Eventually Paul eased off them, hands raised in peace. “Alright. I’m done. Now come and say hi to Madeleine.”

His eldest son, Jack, rolled off the beanbag and stood, giving me a questioning look. It was a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. The younger boy tugged persistently on his father’s leg.

“Come on, Dad. She won’t mind. Can we go again?”

Paul gave Noah a gentle look. He scooped him out of the beanbag and set Noah down in front of him, resting his hands on his shoulders. “Noah, this is Madeleine.”

“Hi,” he said.

I gave him a bright smile. “Hi Noah. Sorry, I don’t want to stop your fun.” God, the child was cute. He was the polar opposite of Jack, with impossibly dark brown eyes and dark brown curls. I assumed he resembled Paul’s wife.

“That’s okay,” replied Noah. “You can be on my side. They always try to gang up on me.”

I gave Paul a puzzled look, then returned my gaze to Noah. “What do you mean they always gang up on you? You’re the littlest.”

Noah shrugged easily. “That’s because Jack and Dad can never beat me.” He grinned, revealing a series of big, crooked teeth. “I’m the only real Ninja Turtle in this house.”

I gave him my most serious look. “Is that so? They don’t beat you – ever?”

“Hardly ever. I’m the best at tickling and I’m the fastest.”

“It’s true.” Jack looked genuinely annoyed. “He’s too quick most of the time.”

“Can you catch me, Madeleine?”

I hesitated at Noah’s use of my full name. For an odd second, I was reminded of Paul, except this was far more endearing.

“I’m not sure that would be fair, Noah.” I wasn’t sure I should be chasing Paul’s son around his house on our first official meeting. “I’m pretty tall, so I’m quick too.”

“You’re about the same height as my Dad and he can’t catch me. And you’re a
girl
.”

“Noah.” Paul’s voice was deep as he reprimanded his son.

I couldn’t help myself and grinned. “So you think girls are slower, do you?”

“Yeah,” Noah replied, as if it was obvious. “The girls at school can’t keep up with any of the boys,” he said proudly.

I straightened myself to my full height. “You obviously didn’t go to my school then. I was a champion runner.”

Noah studied me seriously for a long moment, weighing up my statement. “You’re still not as fast as I am. Catch me if you can.”

He shot off around the corner.

It wasn’t very mature of me, but I felt my competitive streak flare in response to the boy’s certainty. I ran after him, but not very fast because I figured it wasn’t going to be very hard to catch a seven-year-old boy and tickle him to the floor.

I was wrong.

By the time I rounded the corner into what looked like a second living area doubling as a study, Noah shot out of a door on the other side of the room. I heard his footsteps pounding up some steps.

“Holy crap,” I muttered.

I ran through the doorway, which took me to a set of steep steps.

“What are you waiting for?” Jack whizzed passed me, taking the stairs two at a time after his brother.

I turned and shrugged at Paul who was still standing in the lounge room watching on, amused.

“Do you mind?” I asked.

His grin broadened. “We’ll have to divide and conquer. If you and Jack can get him back down here, I’ll tickle him to the ground.”

It sounded like a plan. I bounded up the stairs, confident that I alone could corner Noah.

“Watch out!”

I arrived on the landing and ducked out of the way at the last second as a blur sped around the corner. Noah swept past me at impressive speed, then raced up another set of steps into a loft area.

I gave Jack a nod of thanks for his warning. “He’s trapped now, surely?”

“Maybe.”

I let him run up the steps ahead of me, then followed. I arrived in what looked like Jack’s bedroom.

“See?” I said. “There’s no way out.”

“
Boo!”

I squealed loudly when Noah pounced from the wardrobe. He made his escape before I could catch my breath.

Jack raised an eyebrow at me, reminding me once again of Paul. “See? Told you. He’s quick.”

He darted off down the stairs after his brother while I took a moment to recover myself. I couldn’t believe I’d just squealed like a girl. It was time to change tactics.

I crept down the stairs to the landing below and waited, listening. Paul stood at the foot of the stairs on the lower level, arms folded, watching on. I saw Jack in what looked to be another bedroom, searching for his brother.

“Come out, Noah. I know you’re here,” he called.

I believed him, but I also knew that Noah was smarter than his age suggested. I padded silently across the wooden floorboards and positioned myself outside the door where I couldn’t be seen.

“
Aaargh!”

A loud thump followed by a squeal. If previous indications were good, Noah was tickling his much bigger brother to the floor.

Wait, Maddy, wait,
I urged myself.

A moment later Noah shot out the door, victorious, which was when I pounced. I scooped him up lightly into both arms and held him up, his legs flailing uselessly. My height was an advantage after all.