Prognosis Incompatible: Hot medical romance

by Amy Andrews

  A fresh wave of nausea struck and she wriggled her hand away to stop her treacherous body betraying her. It was his fault she felt dreadful.

  ‘You are kidding, right?’ she said, opening one eye and fixing him with a glare.

  Marcus smiled. He had given her the headache? Well, that was a first. He’d been known to cure them before...

  ‘Have you always had them?’

  ‘No, I got my first one about five years ago.’ About? Who was she kidding? Madeline remembered it as if it were yesterday. The afternoon of Abby’s funeral she’d been practically incapacitated.

  ‘Was that a particularly stressful time then?’

  She shut her eyes, not wanting him to know just how awful it had been. ‘You could say that.’

  Marcus watched as Madeline rolled onto her side, facing away from him. End of conversation. He rubbed his jaw absently as his gaze followed the slender curve of her back. In holistic medicine, knowing about stress triggers and what caused them was an important part of his diagnosis and treatment.

  But it was clear he wasn’t going to find out at the moment and, whatever the deep-rooted cause, Madeline’s debilitating symptoms were of more pressing concern.

  Maybe if he cured it, her opinion of him and his job would improve? Maybe he would gain some ground? Why it was so important that he did he didn’t want to analyse at the moment — she got to him. And he didn’t like to see anyone suffer.

  ‘Have you taken something for it?’

  Madeline’s eyes drifted open as his voice reached out and joined the hammering in her head. ‘Several Mersyndol.’

  Marcus shook his head. No wonder she was so spaced out. What she needed was a massage. To relieve the stress and tension. And lavender. He needed some lavender and other essential oils to induce relaxation.

  He’d better get going. He had a lot to prove today. ‘Maddy? I’m going to leave you now.’

  ‘Hallelujah!’ she muttered.

  He laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint but I’m coming back. I’m just going to get some stuff for your headache.’

  ‘Don’t bother, Marcus, I don’t own a cauldron.’

  Marcus laughed again. Even bedridden by a blinding headache, she could be as sharp as a tack. Would she ever miss an opportunity for a dig? ‘No hocus-pocus, Maddy, I promise.’

  Whatever, Madeline thought as she shut her eyes and drifted away on her Mersyndol cloud. The little white pills did lessen the severity quite a bit but she knew that they mainly worked by altering her perception of the pain, which wasn’t quite the same as curing it. But it would run its twenty-four-hour course and the pills would help make it more bearable.

  Forty-five minutes later, he was back, as promised. ‘Maddy?’ he murmured.

  She opened her eyes and squeezed them shut again as she felt the mattress sink under his weight. Maybe if she lay very still he’d go away?

  ‘Madeline,’ he repeated, switching on the bedside lamp.

  If her head hadn’t felt like it was about to fall off her shoulders, she would have yelled at him to go. But she just wasn’t capable of anything that excessive. She opened an eye and looked at him disparagingly.

  Even in the dim light Marcus once again noted how dull her eyes were. Gone was the brilliant green of a highly polished emerald. Now they reminded him of the dull raw stone just plucked from the earth. He held up a bottle of oil that had just the right blend to restore their usual brilliance. ‘I have the perfect thing for headaches.’

  She eyed him dubiously. ‘If six Mersyndol haven’t helped, I doubt very much that what’s in that bottle can. I’ll pass.’

  ‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ he tutted.

  ‘What is it? Do I have to snort it, swallow it or inject it?’

  He laughed. ‘None of the above. It’s massage oil. I apply it. Roll on your tummy,’ he ordered.

  Even through her drug-induced, disorientated haze, Madeline had enough wits to know that she would be entering dangerous waters if she allowed him to do this. The strange pull she felt around him hadn’t been obliterated by the migraine, just buried a little.

  And a massage in her bedroom, on her bed...

  She stared at him and tried to fathom how he didn’t seem worried about the intimacy of the situation. Was she the only one that felt the weird energy between them? The...thing...that she’d felt from the moment she’d seen him on the skateboard?

  ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ she said huskily.

  ‘Come on, Maddy, I mixed a secret potion.’ He grinned. ‘I know you don’t believe in any of this but at least give it a go. It works. Really it does.’

  So she was the only one that felt it?

  He looked strictly professional. No indication that they were anything other than practitioner and client. Her head was too sore to try and figure it out. Thump, thump, thump. It pulsated with painful regularity. She doubted seriously whether a massage would help but...what if he was right?

  ‘OK,’ she agreed, desperate enough to try anything as she shifted gingerly onto her stomach.

  ‘I’ll look away while you take your shirt off,’ he said. ‘Use the sheet to cover up.’

  Madeline raised herself on her elbows and looked back over her shoulder at him. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Marcus sighed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I need full access to your neck and shoulders. I can’t give you a proper therapeutic massage through your shirt. I am one hundred per cent professional whether you think so or not. I don’t come on to women under the guise of my work and I certainly don’t come on to women who are engaged! Ever.’

  Normally Madeline would have been mortified to have insulted anyone — she was just too polite. But the thought of him touching her was sending her hormones into a chaotic scramble. Marcus looked insulted that she had questioned his ethics but, seriously, the thought was as terrifying as it was irresistible.

  He turned his back and she quickly divested herself of her shirt, pulling the sheet up around her, her feet sticking out either side.

  ‘Ready,’ she said.

  Marcus turned back, still miffed that she would doubt his professional boundaries. Ok, this wasn’t a doctor-patient relationship, but there was a line you just didn’t cross in these situations.

  Madeline lay stiffly, her breathing ragged, waiting for the touch of his fingers on her neck. She heard him rubbing the oil between his hands and her shoulders tensed, waiting for the incoming caress. So when he gently stroked her feet she almost leapt off the bed.

  Energy arced through her, electrifying every cell in her body as if she’d just been plugged into a power point. Her body hummed with the intensity of a city grid.

  How on earth was this going to help her headache?

  ‘Relax, Maddy, it’s OK,’ he crooned quietly. ‘I thought I’d start with a reflexology massage of your feet. Did you know there are certain pressure points on the soles of the feet that correspond to certain parts of the body?’

  ‘No hocus-pocus, you promised,’ she accused, her voice muffled from being buried in the pillow as she tried not to moan out loud.

  He chuckled. ‘Such a sceptic. Okay — no attempts at conversion. Forget the science behind it. How about you just enjoy it because it feels fantastic?’

  Well, she couldn’t argue with him there and she bit down on her lip to stop herself audibly groaning as his deft fingers probed and rubbed her feet. He seemed to linger and concentrate on some areas, particularly her big toes, but wherever his fingers roamed they left devastation of cyclonic proportions to her equilibrium. He lavished equal attention on both feet and although Madeline would never have admitted it, she could feel the intensity of the migraine beginning to ebb.

  He stopped after twenty minutes and Madeline stifled a protest. It wouldn’t do at all to have him think she actually wanted him to continue.

  ‘Thank you, that was most kind,’ she said in a small prim voice, masking her inner turmoil as she dragged her scattered wits together and tried to
withdraw her leg from his grasp.

  He chuckled and placed a stilling hand on her calf. ‘The best is yet to come.’

  Madeline shook her head, alarmed that he was going to wreak further havoc on her equilibrium. ‘No, it’s all right. I’m feeling better now.’ She turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. ‘I just need to sleep it off now.’

  ‘Shh,’ he whispered, placing two fingers against his lips.

  Madeline’s pupils dilated as she followed the movement. The desire to feel his fingers on her lips, to suck them into her mouth and taste the beautifully aromatic oil, was shocking. She didn’t understand where such a thought even came from. She’d never felt so out of control of her own body until meeting Marcus.

  ‘Lie down, Maddy,’ he ordered gently.

  She was quite the conundrum, was Madeline Harrington. Why did a beautiful, desirable woman look so perplexed by a man’s touch? Surely her fiancé touched her all the time?

  He would if that was his ring on her finger.

  Marcus felt her tense as he slid his hands into her hair, gathering the loose tendrils together to push it off her neck. The scent of her shampoo wafted towards him - frangipani and cinnamon – and Marcus fought the urge to bury his face in her beautiful locks.

  He was moving into dangerous territory. The look she’d just given him had been heavy with desire and he knew he was walking a very fine line between therapeutic and something else entirely different. Something that could get him struck off had she been a patient.

  But she wasn’t.

  Madeline practically heard the oil sizzle as it landed on the heated flesh of her shoulders. She definitely heard his breathing as his fingers stroked gently through the liquid. Was she mistaken or was it as uneven as hers?

  Lavender filled the air with its sweet fragrance. There were other fragrances as well that she couldn’t place and she cleared the huskiness from her throat.

  ‘What’s in the oil?’ she asked. She prided herself on sounding almost normal. This was good. This was what she needed. A little conversation to distract her from the traitorous pulse of her body.

  ‘Guess,’ he said, and slowly ran two glistening fingers under her nose and along her top lip.

  Madeline almost moaned out loud and the temptation to suck them inside her mouth was so real she ground her toes into the bed to stop herself.

  She swallowed. ‘Well, there’s lavender, of course, but it smells a bit minty, too? And there’s something else...I don’t know what.’

  He chuckled. ‘Very good. Lavender, peppermint and the other fragrance is melissa oil — it has a citrus aroma.’

  Madeline shut her eyes as Marcus’s fingers probed the muscles of her shoulders and neck. He applied more oil and worked a little deeper and she bit her lip to stop herself from whimpering. ‘And what do you use as a base oil?’ she asked, desperate to convey normality.

  ‘It depends,’ he said. ‘Lately I’ve been using grape-seed oil.’

  She vaguely heard his answer. The effect of his touch was profound and she gave up trying to fight it. The strangest sensations were taking a grip on her body. All her tension oozed from her pores. The longer he kneaded and caressed, the better her head felt. It wasn’t long before the migraine had all but disappeared.

  Heat unfurled along her nerves, melting her muscles and dissolving her bones. She felt weightless yet heavy at the same time. Her breasts ached and there was another ache, deep down low, and she pressed her thighs together to get some relief from the steady build-up of pressure.

  Simon had never touched her like this. Therapeutically, sexually or otherwise. They’d been engaged for four years and together for ten and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this hot under the collar. When had been the last time they’d been carried away on a wave of passion?

  Looking back at their relationship, she had to admit it hadn’t been just the last couple of frantic years when their intimacy had taken a nose-dive. It had never really been based on passion. They’d known each other since kindy and had just kind of fallen into a relationship at university without really realising it.

  Simon lost his mother in the first year of med school and she’d been there for him. Having only just lost her own mother to breast cancer, she’d understood his devastation. So they’d started to hang out together and people had started to assume and it had been convenient for two busy med students to not have to worry too much about matters of the heart. And then when Abby had died five years later during her final exams, he’d become her rock.

  But, as Marcus’s fingers continued to weave their magic down the length of her spine, Madeline had to wonder what the hell she’d been missing out on! Simon’s touch, his kisses had never been like this. They had been nice rather than passionate, polite rather than magical. But that had been OK.

  What did that stuff really matter when you loved someone?

  Actually, it had suited her. Secretly, deep down she’d always thought that her profound grief had rendered her incapable of grand passion. It had been hard to get in the mood when sex had seemed unimportant compared to the things she had already lost. But now, lying there as Marcus made her body hum and sing and come alive with a deft touch and a bit of oil, she knew she’d been wrong.

  She was sexual. She did have needs. Sex mattered.

  A lot!

  The thought was depressing as all giddy up. Here she was, nearly naked on her bed with a man she barely knew who was creating complete and utter havoc inside her, and there wasn’t anyone she could turn to. What would Veronica say?

  Turn over right now and let him massage your front.

  She bit her lip. She couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t her. But as she gave herself up to the kneading and the stroking and the rubbing, a blissful euphoria enveloped her, lulling her into a deep relaxing slumber. And a little piece of the ice around her heart started to thaw. Marcus had started a flame, a tiny spark of heat, and each rub of his fingers fanned it a little higher.

  It took Marcus several minutes to realise that Maddy had fallen asleep. He was way too busy concentrating on coaxing the deep knots of tension out of her neck and shoulders. Too busy pretending she was Mrs Furness — a rather sour lady who had made his professional life very unpleasant on the occasions that he had been unlucky enough to see her.

  He figured if he could just keep picturing this awful woman he wouldn’t be tempted to replace his hands with his mouth. He wouldn’t lick and suck at her small earlobes, taunting him through the tumble of her glorious hair. He wouldn’t kiss her neck and turn her over and show her passion that would make her forget all about her fiancé.

  Because she was out of bounds. Way, way out of bounds.

  The digital clock read five minutes to five when Madeline woke. She felt slightly disorientated in the darkened room and rolled onto her back, sighing loudly.

  Marcus came into her line of vision. He was sitting silently in one of the chairs from the lounge room, deeply engrossed in a book. His head snapped up at her movement.

  ‘Marcus?’ she asked, momentarily puzzled by his presence. Her migraine had gone but the all-too-familiar after-effects had taken its place. Her brain was fuzzy, all her thought processes seemed jumbled and she felt totally sapped.

  ‘Good evening, Maddy. Feeling better?’

  His chirpy mood grated on her recovering nerves. Memories of the massage and her body’s reaction to it came back. ‘I feel fine, thank you. And thank you for staying but there was no need. You can now.’

  She went to sit up and then remembered she was naked except for her knickers. A blush stole up her face and she hoped that Marcus couldn’t see it through the gloom. Now she was awake and the memories were flooding back, she was acutely embarrassed by the intimate nature of their afternoon.

  ‘So I’m dismissed, am I?’ One black eyebrow rose slightly as an amused smile played on his lips.

  He made her sound churlish and Madeline turned redder still. ‘I’m grateful,’ she said
, forcing the tremor from her voice. ‘Really I am. But I don’t need to be babysat.’

  It was weird, talking to a fully clothed Marcus as the sheets slid seductively across her bare flesh, grazing her nipples and making her acutely aware of her state of undress. He was two metres away. In her bedroom.

  She didn’t know what she was supposed to do or say.

  ‘I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re going to be okay. Get up. Have a shower. I’ll rustle us up something to eat.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said automatically, even though she was starving. She just wanted him as far away from her as possible.

  ‘You need to eat something.’ His voice was firm. ‘And I think you at least owe me a meal.’

  If he was trying to shame her, it worked. He was right, of course. He’d arrived at her place expecting to have an afternoon on the town and instead had spent his time ministering to her needs. She opened her mouth to agree but he’d already left the room and the noises of cupboards opening drifted in from outside.

  Marcus glanced up when he heard Maddy shuffle into the kitchen ten minutes later. His welcoming smile slipped slightly as he took in her appearance. Baggy track pants, baggy sweatshirt, fluffy pink slippers, hair tied back into a neat plait.

  No shape, about as asexual as was possible and Marcus almost laughed out loud. He knew what she was trying to achieve but he didn’t have to see it to know that underneath all that thick padding was a fantastic body. Not that long ago he’d had his hands all over it!

  She would look sexy in sack-cloth.

  ‘Going for a jog?’ he queried sardonically.

  Madeline ignored him. She felt back in control of her body and the situation again – that was all that mattered. ‘Mmm, that smells wonderful. What is it?’

  ‘Omelette,’ he said, ‘And it’s ready. Let’s eat.’

  He had made himself at home in her kitchen, judging by the beautifully set table. And, when he placed a huge plate of steaming eggs in front of her, followed closely by a mound of buttered toast, Madeline’s stomach growled ferociously.