Dr Drop-Dead Gorgeous. Emily Forbes

eyelashes. Other than the bump in her nose her features were remarkably symmetrical and gave her a slight ethereal quality.

      ‘Thank you for listening.’ Maggie put a hand on his arm. It was an unconscious gesture on her part—he’d swear she was completely unaware of the movement—but the touch of her palm on his bare forearm sent a surge of desire through him that took him by surprise.

      She was an attractive woman—physically not more so than a dozen others he knew—but this spark that zipped through him was unusual. There had to be some scientific reason for it; in his mind there was a scientific reason for everything. Even near-death experiences, in his opinion, were simply a by-product of a person’s wiring. Not that he’d pushed that idea on Maggie; he’d been too interested in her thoughts. But chemistry between two people, two strangers, that was stuff of fiction. The spark must simply be due to ions in their bodies or the humidity in the air. Something simple. Something scientific.

      ‘Look what I got, Uncle Ben.’

      An unexpected voice startled him. His nephew was standing in front of him, proudly displaying a bright yellow football and a backpack.

      ‘Rory! Has the clinic finished?’ He hadn’t noticed the session coming to an end.

      ‘Rory is your nephew?’ Maggie said. ‘My nephew Edward’s friend? Why didn’t you say something?’

      He turned to Maggie—he must have missed some information along the way. ‘I didn’t know there was a connection,’ he admitted. ‘I know that my sister, Gabby, recommended me to Juliet but I didn’t think to ask how they knew each other. It must be through the boys’ school.’ He paused, wondering if this information gave him licence to take another step, before deciding there was only one way to find out. ‘We’re going to have a milkshake now, why don’t you join us?’

      ‘Thank you, we’d love to but we can’t. I made a deal with Juliet that if she wanted to walk Kate to ballet I’d pick her up afterwards. We’ll have to get going.’

      That was OK—she hadn’t knocked him back. ‘Maybe next week, then.’

      ‘Will you be bringing Rory again?’

      ‘More than likely. My sister and her husband travel quite often for their business, and I help my parents out with Rory on weekends when I can.’

      ‘That’s very good of you.’

      ‘Not at all, I think I get more out of it than Rory. He’s great company.’

      ‘So, next Saturday, then?’ she said with a smile which he found ridiculously satisfying.

      He nodded, pleased she seemed keen to join him, and as he watched her walking away, a slim figure in faded jeans, he tried again to work out what it was about her that appealed to him. He thought back over their conversation. She’d been very open and honest; he guessed there’d be no game playing with her. Perhaps that was her point of difference—she was genuine. Could it be that simple?

      As he caught the last glimpse of her as she and Edward left the oval he realised he was already looking forward to next week. She intrigued him, he decided, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been able to say that about someone.

      Maggie listened to Edward recount the morning’s activities to Juliet as she heated soup for lunch and prepared sandwiches. He didn’t mention Ben, but then why would he? Football had been the big attraction for him.

      ‘Was it as much fun as Edward thinks?’ Juliet asked her when she came into the kitchen. ‘It didn’t drag on for too long?’

      ‘Not at all,’ Maggie answered. The time had passed in the blink of an eye.

      ‘Did you have to help out?’

      Maggie shook her head. ‘No, there were plenty of official helpers. It was pretty well organised.’

      ‘What did you do for an hour, then?’

      ‘Ben McMahon was there,’ Maggie said, hoping she sounded calm despite her sizzling nerves. ‘I chatted to him.’

      Juliet squealed. ‘What did you talk about?’

      My dead husband, Maggie thought, knowing that Juliet would have a fit if she admitted this had been a topic of conversation; that was surely a no-go zone in the ‘art of flirting.’ She decided to keep that to herself and went with, ‘This and that—the kids. Ben said that Rory’s parents are away—something to do with their work?’ She changed the subject.

      ‘I’d forgotten they’re interstate. They run a rather successful art gallery in St Kilda and they focus on indigenous art, Aboriginal and other cultures. They travel a lot.’ Juliet paused and Maggie could almost see the wheels turning in her head. ‘You should get Ben to show you their gallery.’

      ‘I think he’d have better things to do.’

      ‘You’ll never know until you ask.’

      Maggie could have told Juliet then all about their conversation but she knew it was too complicated to explain how she’d immediately felt comfortable in Ben’s company. How it hadn’t felt strange to talk to Ben about Steven or about such a controversial subject as life after death and people’s perceptions of heaven.

      Talking to Ben she’d felt as though her opinion mattered, as though it was worth something. She was an intensely private sort of person, much more so than Juliet, so to have such a revealing conversation with a virtual stranger must say something about Ben. Or maybe it said more about her feelings towards Ben, and she wasn’t ready to share those yet. Not even with Juliet.

      Nor was she about to mention the plans for next weekend. She wanted to hug that to herself for a little longer. It felt too precious, and she knew that sharing the news would diminish that. So she just shrugged and concentrated on making lunch and steered the conversation back to Juliet’s morning and then onto their plans and schedule for the following week. It had been a while since her own children had depended on her for everything, and Maggie wanted to make sure she had a handle on what needed to happen in order for Juliet’s household to run smoothly. The kids had had enough upheaval, and Maggie wanted to make things easy for everyone. Focusing on what everyone else needed also meant she didn’t have time to examine her own feelings too closely.