by Amy Andrews
‘What?’ demanded Madeline, staring at Mary like she’d just grown another head.
‘He’ll be here any time soon.’
Oh, great, she thought. Was it too late to leave? Then she became annoyed. Why should she have to? George and Mary had been nothing but wonderful since her parents had died and she hadn’t seen them for six weeks.
‘Why on earth would you threaten to evict him?’ asked a shocked George.
‘Because I expected you to be as outraged as me. I thought you’d been hoodwinked by the estate agents and were oblivious to the identity of the new leaseholder.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said sarcastically. ‘How about all the botched-up patients we’ve seen? How about Abby?’
George looked at Madeline over the top of his glasses and sighed. ‘I know she was your sister and you know how much we cared for her, but Abby was a grown woman who made her own decisions about her health care, Madeline,’ he said, gently. ‘Yes, she was foolish but ultimately it was her choice who she consulted that day. You can’t brand the entire industry because of a few bad eggs. Abby must also share some of that responsibility.’
Madeline knew he was right but Abby had paid such a high price for her stupidity. ‘I know that. I’m just surprised that suddenly we appear to be endorsing this stuff.’
‘Madeline.’ George stood and came closer. ‘Marcus is one of Melbourne’s top people in alternative medicine. He’s even worked with elite athletes, helping them find alternative medicines to treat their ailments because so much conventional stuff is on the banned list. We had him thoroughly checked out. He holds a bona fide medical degree. He’s not some radical quack. Just a good doctor offering people choices based on sound medical and homoeopathic principles. The best of both worlds.’
She knew George was making sense but an image of Marcus’s dimpled smile was stuck in her brain and she wanted it gone. ‘Why wasn’t I consulted?’
‘You’ve been away for six weeks.’
‘There are such things as telephones.’
‘It wasn’t a decision we made lightly, Madeline. We all discussed it and agreed that it would be good for the practice to promote holistic care. You’re not the only one keen to make changes so we can attract new clients. You opened the box and you’ve really helped revive the practice, but we have ideas, too. So many people come in these days wanting alternatives to pills and intrusive medical procedures. At least we can refer them to someone with an impeccable reputation.’
‘You mean you’re actually going to refer patients to him?’
‘If I feel it’s warranted. If it’s what they want — yes.’
‘I don’t know, George. It’s one thing to tolerate him but to legitimise what he does by passing work his way is another thing entirely. You know we have to strive for best practice. And that has to be evidence-based.’
‘Come on, Madeline, so much of modern medicine and pharmacology is based on old remedies.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Maybe. But that’s the problem with a lot of this alternative nonsense, isn’t it? There’s no written studies to back up claims. If it isn’t written somewhere, proven in some double-blind study somewhere, I don’t think I’ll be referring any of my patients.’
And she wanted as little to do with him as possible. There was something strange that happened inside her when she was around him. It was confusing and she didn’t need it in her life. As it was, she was going to have sit through lunch with him.
Him and his blue eyes and wicked dimples.
‘You will be nice to him, won’t you, dear?’ said Mary.
Manners were very important to Mary. ‘Of course, Mary. I’m always polite.’
Madeline worked hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. Since when had she ever not done the right thing?
The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Madeline hoped it was Marcus cancelling lunch but when George didn’t come back from answering it, she assumed it was for him. Mary went to check on lunch, ordering Madeline to stay where she was and relax.
Which she did.
Despite the frisson of apprehension about Marcus, the combination of the heat and wine and jet lag and the quiet tranquillity of the Blakely residence had her eyelids growing heavy. Horses neighed and cows mooed and the smell of freshly cut grass filled her senses and she succumbed to the lure of just shutting her eyes for a minute or two.
Madeline vaguely heard the chiming of the doorbell but was still lost in the nether world of sleep when Mary directed their guest outside. ‘Madeline’s out on the deck. I’ll be there in a moment, Marcus, dear. George won’t be long.’
Marcus strolled out, steeling himself for uptight Maddy, still annoyed at him about what had happened at the hospital. He almost did a double-take when Madeline’s sleeping form came into view. She wasn’t remotely uptight in slumber. Her hair was loose and her eyes were closed and her disapproving mouth was soft and her frown was gone.
He suddenly knew how the prince in Sleeping Beauty must have felt.
She lay reclined in the chair, her long legs stretched out on the leg supports of the squatter’s chair. A half-empty wine glass balanced on the broad arm. His eyes drifted to the steady rise and fall of her chest. She wore a jade-green T-shirt with a rounded neckline that clung to her very nice breasts.
The temperature outside suddenly got a lot hotter and Marcus felt his mouth go dry as his groin stirred. God! She was beautiful. He had no idea who the man was that Maddy had committed herself to but he was one lucky guy.
Madeline frowned slightly as an image of Marcus floated in front of her. His bare chest and dimples mocked her and she woke with a start, disorientated, her subconscious trying to drag her back into the lingering folds of her dream even as her unfocussed gaze came to land on Marcus.
He was staring at her and her frown deepened. The fog shrouding her brain, intensified by her out-of-sync body clock, couldn’t compute the image in front of her. Was she still dreaming? Or was she dreaming that she was awake?
Madeline blinked rapidly a few times and rubbed her eyes. Yep — she was definitely awake. And Marcus was definitely sitting at the table, drinking a beer. Looking at her.
‘Maddy.’ He nodded. ‘Long time, no see.’
Feeling vulnerable in her reclined position, Madeline struggled to get out of the chair. ‘Madeline,’ she grouched, annoyed that he’d showed up. ‘The name is Madeline!’
‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked, amused at her flailing attempts to stand.
She ignored him, finally rising to her feet and walking down to the far corner of the deck, wineglass in hand. He was dressed as he’d been at the hospital. His comment about seeing her sooner than she thought flashed back.
‘You knew!’ she accused. ‘You knew at the hospital you were coming here.’
‘Mary invited me this morning. It seems she’s rather keen for us to meet. Besides...I never refuse a home-cooked meal.’
Madeline was just about to scold him for his deliberate omission when Mary joined them. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, a little frown drawing her brows together as she noted the distance between them.
‘Great,’ Madeline assured, plastering a smile on her face.
‘Marcus...’ Mary wagged her finger at him. ‘You never said you and Madeline had already met.’
Madeline stared incredulously at sensible, level-headed Mary. She was practically flirting with the younger man, her cheeks a delicate pink.
‘You got me.’ He dazzled a brilliant smile at Mary.
Madeline suppressed the sudden urge to scream. ‘Where’s George?’ she asked instead.
‘Here I am,’ he said, joining them, giving his wife a hug from behind. ‘Let’s eat!’
Mary was an excellent cook and Madeline was sure it tasted divine, but she found herself having to force down each mouthful. She was acutely conscious of Marcus and his witty chat especially when she could barely string two words together.
‘So, Marcus,’ Mary said, ‘tell us a bit about yourself.’
Marcus told them a lot about his earlier life growing up in Melbourne and Madeline was interested despite telling herself she didn’t care.
‘I’m surprised a nice young man like you hasn’t been snapped up with a couple of kids by now,’ Mary pressed.
He laughed. ‘Can you call thirty-five young?’
George snorted. ‘You can when you’re sixty.’
Madeline was just thinking how smoothly Marcus had avoided that question when she saw his smiling face grow serious.
‘Actually, I was married once, a long time ago.’
Madeline stopped eating. His cryptic comments in the car the previous night now made some sense.
‘Too young?’ asked Mary.
‘Something like that.’ He gave a quick, dismissive shrug of his shoulders.
‘Do you still see her?’ Mary asked.
‘From time to time.’
They ate a little more without speaking and then Mary said, ‘Have you had much of a chance to do any sightseeing, Marcus?’
‘Not really,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been so busy since I arrived, setting up the practice, I haven’t really been anywhere. I’ve found South Bank, I swim there most afternoons. Oh, and the local skate park.’
Yes, indeed he had.
Madeline pushed her food around her plate as she remembered seeing him for the first time — had it only been yesterday? — shirtless, riding the concrete curves. His six-pack abs and his perfectly muscled quads returned in full Technicolor detail.
If only she’d known then, sitting in her car at those roadworks, that in less than twenty-four hours she’d actually be acquainted with skater boy, she might just have turned around and flown back to the UK.
Suddenly Madeline became aware that the other occupants of the table were staring at her expectantly and she shook her head to clear it. ‘I’m sorry...what did you say?’
‘I was just telling Marcus what a wonderful tour guide you are,” Mary repeated. ‘You won’t mind showing him some of the local sights on your day off tomorrow, will you?’
Madeline blinked. Of course she minded! Was Mary not listening when she’d told her about the eviction threats? She groped around desperately for a way to wriggle out of it.
‘Ah...well, actually, I was kind of planning on lazing in bed. This jet lag is a killer.’
‘Not all day, surely,’ George interjected. ‘Even half a day would be better than none.’
She looked from one to the other. She knew they prided themselves on making strangers welcome but this was ridiculous. Did they feel badly that Madeline had made a scene with him already and were trying to make amends or did that quick exchange of looks between husband and wife mean something else?
Like they were trying their hand at matchmaking?
Oh Lordy – she hoped not. She’d rather be run over by a bus than spend a moment alone with Marcus.
‘It’s OK, George, Madeline obviously feels uncomfortable with being my tour guide. I’ll see the sights another time.’
Madeline’s back stiffened and she glared at him. He was making her seem spoilt and ungracious and with his eyes twinkling at her, he obviously knew it. The Blakelys placed a lot of value on good manners and hospitality and she owed them in ways she could never repay.
She’d be damned if she’d give Marcus the satisfaction. ‘Okay, sure.’
‘Thank you, dear,’ said Mary, beaming as George shot Madeline a grateful indulgent smile.
‘Why don’t I pick you up?’ suggested Marcus. ‘What time?’
Madeline had no real interest in the details. She shrugged. ‘One?’
‘Looking forward to it,’ he said softly.
Madeline looked into his blue eyes feeling dread and anticipation in equal measure both scaring the bejesus out of her and she wished she’d never met him. Rising, she busied herself with the dishes.
‘We’ll do this, dear,’ Mary said. ‘Why don’t you go home? You still look very tired.’
Normally Madeline would have insisted but the invitation to leave was too tempting. ‘Thanks, Mary.’ She kissed her gratefully on the cheek. ‘I really am bushed.’
‘Will you be all right, driving home?’ asked George.
‘Of course.’
‘I can give you a lift,’ Marcus offered, standing quickly.
Mary clapped her hands. ‘What a good —’
‘No!’ Madeline exclaimed loudly. Perhaps a little too loudly as her hosts blinked at her owl-like.
Madeline shot Marcus a look that told him in no uncertain terms to back off.
‘No,’ Madeline repeated, not so loudly but with definite firmness. ‘I’m not that tired. I’ll be fine.’
But she was excruciatingly aware of Marcus watching her as she gathered her things and kissed the Blakely’s goodbye. ‘Don’t bother to see me out,’ she told George as he stood. ‘Stay with your guest.’
Then she bade Marcus a brief goodbye because it would have been impolite in front of George and Mary to poke her tongue out and kick him in the shins, which was her first instinct. He’d cornered her and he knew it but she didn’t have to like it.
‘Till tomorrow,’ he said.
Madeline stilled momentarily and their gazes locked, a tremor of awareness slithering up her back. How did he make an innocent outing feel so carnal?
‘Tomorrow.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE pounding was like jackhammers drilling into her brain, the noise echoing loudly and ricocheting off the bones of her skull. Madeline groaned and clutched at her temples. The pounding intensified.
Desperately trying to drag herself out of the clutches of sleep, Madeline tentatively opened her eyes. The tablets she had taken the previous afternoon for her approaching headache had left her feeling disorientated, as if there was soup where her brains should be.
The banging began again and Madeline realised that it was coming from the front door, not from the headache that still throbbed at her temples. But the noise jarred through her head, aggravating the thumping within.
Still disorientated, Madeline rolled out of bed, mumbling unintelligibly. The red digits of the alarm clock told her it was five past one. Afternoon or morning? Her deliberately darkened room let in no tell-tale signs of light.
What day was it anyway?
She stumbled through the house, reaching the front door and grabbing desperately at the lock. She had to make the pounding stop.
‘All right, all right,’ she snapped as she wrenched open the door, ‘Quit that awful racket.’ The full glare of the midday sun assaulted her vision and she shielded her eyes as pain lanced her eye sockets.
Marcus Hunt stood there, obviously surprised by Madeline’s dishevelled, almost wild appearance.
‘You look awful.’ His concern was mirrored in his blue eyes.
Actually, he thought, she looked pretty damn hot. Yes, she was obviously unwell but at this moment she looked wild, untamed. Her fiery red hair was loose and slightly mussed from the sleep he had obviously woken her from. He felt sure had Titian been alive today he would have killed to paint her hair.
She was wearing a plain grey T-shirt that moulded her breasts and grey cotton boy-leg knickers. He’s never seen so much of her flesh and a small fire ignited in his loins.
Hell, man! Pull yourself together, he admonished himself. She’s unwell, for God’s sake. The usual brilliant green glitter of her eyes had dulled to a lacklustre jade. He doubted that she would answer the door in next to nothing to anyone, especially him, had she been in her right mind.
Madeline stared at Marcus, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing here on her doorstep, but stopped when it became too painful. Her eyes hurt from the glare and not even his dazzling good looks eased the thumping.
‘Thank you for your brutal honesty,’ she snapped. ‘Now go away.’ Madeline swung the door closed but his quick reflexes caught it before it was half way s
hut. She sighed loudly and turned on her heel. She didn’t care what he did, her bed was calling.
Madeline made her way back to her room and collapsed on the bed, dragging the sheet up to cover her body.
‘Maddy?’ he called from the bedroom doorway.
She opened an eyelid and almost groaned out loud. ‘Are you still here?’
‘You’re not well.’
What a brilliant deduction! ‘Yeah, well, you’re not helping.’
‘Did you forget our date?’
Madeline sat up abruptly in bed, wincing as the sudden movement reverberated through her grey matter. ‘Date?’
‘You were going to show me the sights?’
‘Oh, God.’ She did groan this time. ‘I’m sorry — I forgot.’ The headache had obliterated everything.
‘That’s OK. We’ll do the date another time.’
‘It’s not a date,’ she said, not bothering to hide her irritation. ‘I was being polite. I wouldn’t date you if you were the only man on earth.’ Pain knifed into her skull again and she lay down quickly as a wave of nausea hit.
Marcus would have laughed but when Madeline clutched her head and collapsed backwards, he realised she was in a bad way.
‘Headache, Maddy?’ He moved into the room and sat beside her on her bed.
‘Madeline,’ she corrected him through gritted teeth.
‘When did it start?’ Reaching for her wrist, he felt for her pulse.
Madeline flinched at the contact, adding a few more beats to her already racing heart. She would have moved away from him had she not been gripping her shirt so tightly to stop from vomiting right here in front of him.
Marcus noted the vice-like grip turning her knuckles white.
‘Yesterday afternoon.’
‘Is this a regular occurrence?’
She shook her head, finding his fingers at her pulse quite soothing. ‘Once every few months.’ She relaxed her grip on her shirt as the nausea subsided.
‘What brings them on?’
‘Stress,’ she stated bluntly.
‘And what’s been stressing you lately?’ he asked innocently.
Yeah, right! Like he didn’t know! He was the main reason she had this wretched headache. If she hadn’t spent hours worrying about this stupid outing —
