Maddie cocked her head. ‘Good for him.’
Her dry tone told him that he hadn’t completely convinced her. But that wasn’t his problem. He never openly criticised Oliver. Ever. His mixed-up contradictory feelings about his brother were his and his alone.
‘Anyway, to get back to the subject, my parents are fine, thank you. We all had supper together a couple of nights ago.’ Cale rested his cheek on his fist. ‘They’re talking about doing something in memory of Oliver. It’s two years in August.’
Maddie tipped her head, immediately interested. ‘Like what?’
‘My mom has this idea that we should do something to raise money for charity in his name.’
He thought the whole idea was mad, but if an event and some funds helped his mom work through her grief he’d be all over it.
‘Nice idea.’ Maddie thought for a minute. ‘Didn’t you and Oliver organise an informal triathlon while you were doing your PhD?’
Cale dropped his fist. ‘Yeah, we got all our racing friends together and did it for laughs.’
‘So, do it for Oliver. Do it for charity.’
‘It’s an idea.’ Cale took her hand again, his fingers sliding between hers. ‘Would you help?’
‘Cale… I can’t. My plate is so full,’ Maddie responded. ‘Besides, you and I working together? Not wise.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’d either end up killing each other or end up in bed.’
‘Or end up killing each other in bed, which sounds like an amazing way to go,’ Cale said on an easy grin.
‘Yeah… not. Anyway, play around with the idea and see what you come up with. I think it could work,’ Maddie suggested, before standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder, she threw him a cheeky grin and buzzed her lips across his cheek. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’ She flicked a glance at the young women next to them. ‘If you take any of their numbers I will hunt you down and kill you. Too stupid and too young. Even for you, Slick.’
Maddie gently nipped his bottom lip before walking away. There was nothing wrong in her humble opinion, in leaving a man wanting more than she intended delivering. It was one of the perks of being a woman.
CHAPTER THREE
UNLIKE most people, Saturdays for Maddie were nearly always full work days and consistently crazy. They were family days: weddings, engagements, family reunions. It was her role to make sure that the emotional, sentimental stuff didn’t interfere with the logistics.
Today, she treated herself to a fifteen minute soak before stepping out of her ball-and-claw tub and reaching for a towel. Moving in the small bathroom was always a challenge, but she refused to sacrifice her precious cast-iron bath for a few inches of space. Turning towards the basin, she nudged the open door with her bottom and, as per usual, the slightest movement caused the door to swing itself closed. Maddie heard the usual click—and then a loud clank as something inside the door dropped. Frowning, she pulled the handle of the door. Although the handle moved, the door remained firmly in place.
Maddie looked at the door, absolutely nonplussed. She jerked the handle again, heard the rattle of parts in the mechanism, yet the door remained resolutely, stubbornly closed. After five minutes she came to the unhappy conclusion that she was locked in her own bathroom.
Maddie cursed, softly and creatively, before reaching for her mobile.
‘I love you, Mad, but not at six in the morning,’ Jim grumbled when he finally answered her call. ‘Especially on my weekend off.’
‘It’s seven, and I have a problem. I’ve managed to get myself stuck in my own bathroom.’ Maddie explained the situation. ‘I need you to come and rescue me.’
Jim cursed. ‘Sweetie, I told you—we’re away for the weekend. What about Kate? Nat?’
‘Kate is also away, and I tried Nat. His mobile is off.’
‘This is why you need a non-gay resident man in your life,’ Jim told her. ‘You know—someone to fix tyres, change lightbulbs, unscrew doors…’
Maddie knew what was coming.
‘There could even be some other benefits on the side…’
‘Supremely unhelpful, Jim,’ Maddie grumbled before disconnecting.
She glanced towards the open sash window and shivered at the gust of cool wind that swirled around her wet body. Who else could she call? Cale? She hadn’t spoken to him since the coffee shop, and was currently ducking his calls because she wasn’t quite sure how to handle him….
Ignoring the thought that Cale wasn’t the type of man to be ‘handled’ at the best of times, Maddie told herself that she dealt with people on a daily basis… she was never at a loss for words. But Cale made her feel tongue-tied and gawky… awkward. Mostly because she was pretty sure that her attraction to him was tattooed on her forehead.
If she were a dog then she’d be constantly panting….
Maddie glanced down at her skimpy towel and realised that calling him would be dangerous. She was practically naked, and she suspected that she had a good chance of ending up flat on her back if Cale saw her like this.
She’d loved him as a teenager, had burned up the sheets with him—when they weren’t fighting—but she’d never experienced this soul-jumping, crotch-squirming reaction that swept over her every time he was within a hundred-foot radius of her.
Lust. So this is what it really feels like, huh? It had to be lust. What else could it possibly be? Feeling like this, she assured herself, was a very normal, natural reaction when you hadn’t had sex for more than… roughly four hundred days times four—one thousand, two hundred days!
Or thereabouts.
She was allowed to feel all jumbled up.
She made a couple of calls: one to Thandi to cover for her, and a request to her mobile service provider for a list of locksmiths in her area. As she started to dial the first, her mobile rang. It was an unfamiliar landline number and she answered it cautiously.
‘Maddie, it’s Cale.’
She really had to save all his numbers into her phone, she decided.
When she didn’t reply, Cale continued speaking. ‘Hello? Maddie?’
‘Cale… um—hi.’
‘Are you okay? You sound funny.’
‘I’m—I’m fine.’ Maddie heard the note of hysteria in her words and hoped that Cale missed it.
No chance. ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded.
Maddie heaved in a breath. ‘I’m locked in my bathroom.’
‘You’re what?’
‘I’m trapped—I can’t get out of my bathroom. There’s something wrong with the door,’ Maddie said, trying for cheerful but hearing misery in her voice.
‘Right. Are the hinges on your side of the door?’
Maddie wondered if she’d really heard the faint thread of laughter in his steady voice. ‘You’d better not be finding this funny, Cale! And the door swings out, into the dressing room. So the hinges are on that side.’
‘Good. That makes it easier. I’ll be there in… say, twenty minutes. But how do I get into the block?’
‘Keypad. My code is 6541. And my front door is open,’ Maddie