by EMILIE ROSE
She gingerly eased to her feet. Her left foot was slightly numb from being tucked beneath her and made keeping her balance an iffy proposition. She grasped the swing’s chain. The links were cold against her palm, but she would not ask Adam for help.
His hair was damp and his chin gleamed from a recent shave. The unbuttoned collar of his white dress shirt revealed a wedge of tanned skin. A navy-and-red unknotted necktie draped his shoulders. The combination of his cologne, menthol shaving cream and minty toothpaste filled her nose.
She’d forgotten the appeal of a freshly showered man first thing in the morning. Her heart raced like a rabbit’s, and adrenaline gave her a burst of alertness. Certainly the intimacy of the situation was the only reason.
Yeah, right.
Adam looked good—even better than his brother had on his best day, mainly because he lacked Andrew’s cocky you-know-you-want-me swagger. Adam had a harder take-me-or-leave-me edge, or maybe there was a maturity about him that Andrew, with his perpetual fraternity-boy persona, had lacked.
But her damned hormones couldn’t tell the difference between the enemy and Andrew.
“Coffee’s in the kitchen. I’m pulling out of the garage in thirty minutes.”
The scent of coffee from the mug he held in his hand penetrated her distracting thoughts. “I’ll grab a cup and get dressed.”
She ducked past him, ignoring him as best she could when he shadowed her inside. Ten minutes after she’d left Adam she was as ready as she was ever going to be to face him again, but neither the caffeine nor her quick, steaming shower had done anything to erase the pall of last night’s nightmares. The uneasiness lingered in her mind. She hadn’t had the dream in over a year, and she’d thought she’d finally banished the hellish mental movie. Apparently Adam’s appearance had resurrected the reruns.
He pivoted sharply when she entered the kitchen, wearing his usual scowl. What had she done to irritate him this time? Breathe?
“Are you starving yourself on purpose?”
The attack took her aback. “What?”
“Did you eat anything last night or this morning?” He practically growled the question.
Why did he care?
“Don’t bother lying, Madison. I buy the groceries. I know what’s in my house.”
“I told you I wasn’t hungry last night.”
Even if she’d been able to bring herself to rummage through his cupboards for a snack, she’d been too stressed to force down anything. The shrimp and grits lunch yesterday had been her last meal, and she was paying for that this morning with a noticeable lack of get-up-and-go.
“Dad’s practice is a busy one. You’ll be going nonstop, since you insist on cramming a week’s worth of patients into two days. You’ll need something substantial to get through the day.”
Well, that explained everything. Adam wasn’t concerned for her well-being. He was thinking of his father’s practice.
“Could we stop somewhere on the way to the office?” A yogurt parfait might soothe her nervous stomach.
“Junk food’s not the answer.” He raided the fridge, tossing items onto the counter, then he broke four eggs into a large skillet, and efficiently whisked them with a fork. He added fresh spinach, cheese and herbs from a well-stocked array in the cabinet. Bustling around the room like a man on a mission, he dropped bread into a toaster and poured two glasses of orange juice, which he plopped on the table with a thump.
His swift, economical movements implied he’d prepared breakfast for guests before. Women? She crammed that thought back into her mental closet. Adam’s social life was not her business.
But she couldn’t help comparing him to his twin. Andrew’s idea of cooking had been to microwave leftovers. A savory aroma filled the kitchen. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled enthusiastically.
With a flick of his wrist Adam folded and plated the omelet, once again surprising her with his competence. After dividing it, he slid half onto a second plate, then set it in front of her, adding a piece of toast. “Eat fast. We need to go.”
“I— Thank you, Adam.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m not your personal chef.”
“I didn’t ask you to cook for me.”
“We both know I’m not doing this for you.” He applied himself to his meal, and Madison did the same, choking down her resentment along with breakfast.
Once breakfast had been consumed Adam rose, grabbed their empty dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “You have five minutes.”
“I’m ready.”
His gaze searched her face, making her hyperconscious of the ghastly reflection she’d seen in the mirror. But makeup wasn’t her thing, and even if she’d wanted to disguise her pallor or the dark circles beneath her eyes, she hadn’t packed any concealer. Why worry? She had no one to impress.
“Dad’s surgery’s at noon. I won’t leave the hospital during the procedure. You’ll have to hitch a ride to lunch with one of the staff.”
“I don’t usually eat lunch.” Unless Piper or June forced a midday meal on her.
A muscle in his jaw knotted. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty unless the surgery runs late.” He rose and braced his fists on the table, leaning across it. “Madison, I don’t have the time to babysit you. Do not become a liability.”
She wasn’t looking for any favors and didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You’re doing a great job.” His sarcasm stung like a whip. “You’re ten pounds underweight and your clothes hang on you like a sack.”
Her hackles rose. It was okay for her friends to nag her, but Adam had no right. “I lost weight when I took up running, and I have more important things to spend my money on than new clothes. I might be built more like a plank than an hourglass, but I’m in good shape—I have to be. It takes strength to manhandle heavy animals.”
Adam looked unconvinced or, more likely, uninterested. Well, bully for him. His opinion didn’t matter anyway.
* * *
ADAM STRODE TOWARD his father’s office, eager to ditch Madison and get on with his day. He mentally scrolled through his task list, trying to find time to fit everything into his schedule.
Madison stopped on the front porch so abruptly in front of him that he almost barreled into her. He locked his muscles and shot out a hand to prevent a collision. His palms landed at her waist and his nose grazed the top of her ponytail. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils. The firmness of her hips registered a split second before the warmth of her body scorched his palms. He had the oddest urge to caress her unexpected curves.
What in the hell? He removed his hands and backed away. “Is there a problem?”
Her small breasts rose and fell, then her gaze ricocheted from the door to his face. Emotions chased through her eyes so rapidly he couldn’t label any of them—but none were good. “Damn it, Madison, you’re not backing out.”
She swallowed, then licked her lips. His gaze locked on her sweeping pink tongue, and his brain took a seriously wrong turn. Her damp mouth was not alluring. Definitely not. He had no inclination to find out how she tasted. None. Despite his brother’s boasts about his hot sex life, Madison was Andrew’s wife. End of story.
Even thinking about touching her was perverted. If his pulse pounded double-time it was only because he didn’t have time for this second-thoughts crap.
“Madison,” he warned when she remained motionless and silent.
“I’m fine.”
Liar. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. What was it about this office that repelled her? He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to find out. “The staff’s expecting you. They’ll show you the ropes.”
“I— Do I know any of them?”
What difference did it
make? “How am I supposed to know? They’ll do their job. Make sure you do yours.”
He returned to his car.
He was not running, damn it. He had a jammed schedule and needed to get started. Madison was a grown woman, a trained veterinarian. She didn’t need him to hold her hand and make introductions.
He checked his rearview mirror. She stood stiffly on the porch, her fists clenching and relaxing by her sides. Guilt and frustration needled him. He was on the verge of throwing the vehicle into Reverse and dragging her inside when she reached for the handle and opened the door. It closed behind her. He merged into traffic. He’d done his part and delivered her to the office. The next few hours were up to her.
Madison had ghosts to face. But she deserved to suffer through the experience alone. He’d been living with those damned ghosts for six years and no one had made it easy for him.
* * *
“LUNCHTIME,” DR. DRAKE’S assistant, Lisa, said. “Princess Pug was our last patient this morning.”
Madison heaved a sigh of relief and nodded. Adam hadn’t been kidding when he predicted she and the staff would be busy. She hadn’t had a minute to dwell on the past since she’d stepped through the door this morning and found a patient waiting—a fact she greatly appreciated. She wasn’t looking forward to the lull ahead when the memories would crowd into the now empty halls and treatment rooms.
She trudged toward the private offices. She’d been able to avoid the back of the building until now, but she hadn’t packed a lunch and didn’t want to force her company on the staff. She definitely wouldn’t bum a ride to lunch as Adam had suggested.
Dread quickened her heartbeat as she approached the office she’d shared with Andrew. A lump the size of a Saint Bernard lodged in her throat. She wanted to duck her head and plow past, but she forced herself to stop outside the door.
C’mon. You can do it.
It took colossal effort to turn ninety degrees and face her past. She deliberately kept her gaze high, focusing on the wall behind Andrew’s desk. She started at the long horizontal transom-style windows just below the roofline that allowed sunlight into the room. Then she let her gaze slide down. His mahogany-framed diploma occupied the same spot. It was flanked by the bookshelves he’d ordered custom-built in the same dark glossy finish as the frame. The textbooks and knickknacks he’d collected still cluttered the shelves.
Her heart thumped harder and her nails bit into her palms. Taking a bracing breath, she allowed her gaze to click incrementally down like the second hand on a clock to the high back of his chair and then to the surface of his desk. The leather blotter and desk set she’d given him as a graduation present remained in the center. The frame that had held their wedding photograph still occupied the front right corner. She inched forward on leaded feet, and slowly turned the rectangle around.
Seeing the two of them with their hands linked, love in their eyes and radiating from their smiles, crushed the breath from her like a horse pinning her against a stall wall with his haunch. They’d been so young, so idealistic and so certain of their future together. At least she had been.
Had Andrew been plotting even then to derail her plans? Had he ever intended for her to join his father’s practice? Or had he always planned for her to be a stay-at-home mom like Helen?
She scanned the rest of the desk and a familiar emptiness yawned in her belly. She cradled the ache with both hands. Andrew had gloated that their son had been conceived during a quickie on this surface while the staff was at lunch. He’d thrown that in her face that horrible night.
And that was when she’d taken her eyes off the road.
A tremor racked her. She pried her gaze away and examined the rest of the space. Another shrine to Andrew. Nothing had changed since he’d left, and yet ironically, nothing in her life was the same.
With his drunken boast he’d crushed her faith not only in him but in herself. How could she have been so blind, so gullible, so stupid?
An undeniable urge to bolt swept through her. She raced down the hall into Dan—Dr. Drake’s office and planted her palms on the edge of his desk. It had been six years. She shouldn’t still react this viscerally.
Out of habit, she gulped deep breaths and rammed the darkness into its hidey-hole by counting her blessings. Her health. Her home. Her practice. Her pets. Her friends. The peaceful town she’d grown to love.
Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on something else—anything besides the grief gnawing away her hard-won peace. There had to be something positive in this horrible experience.
Her morning had been crammed with everything from avians to reptiles, testing her memory and her training to the limit. Not knowing what she’d find upon entering a treatment room had been both intimidating and exhilarating in ways Madison hadn’t anticipated. She’d enjoyed being kept on her toes.
“You okay?” Lisa asked behind her.
Madison spun around. “Yes. I’d forgotten how exciting and varied Danny’s patients could be. At home my most exotic patient is a ferret and once in a while an ornery donkey.”
“Sounds dull. It’s never that here. We’re eating in the break room—I hope you like pizza. Better come and get yours before Jim scarfs it down.”
Surprised to be included, Madison straightened. “You ordered delivery? I’ll pay for my share.”
“Adam covered it.”
Adam. Her nerves twanged. For the first time since she’d stepped into the office Madison glanced at the clock. Almost one o’clock. Danny would be in surgery. She’d been too busy this morning to keep track of time. A fresh wave of worry snaked through her. She wanted to call and check on Danny. But she wouldn’t. If she intended to keep their relationship strictly business, then checking up on him was out of the question.
She followed Lisa down the hall. “Does Adam always send food?”
“No, not Adam, but Dr. Drake always orders takeout on the days we’re slammed and don’t have time to go out.”
Madison had suggested that practice when she’d interned here. “Does that happen often?”
“Often enough—especially during shortened holiday weeks. Dr. Drake has more patients than he can handle, and he hates to turn anyone away. He definitely needs a partner.”
Kay, the receptionist, Jim, the groomer, and Susie, the kennel manager, were seated when Madison and Lisa entered. Kay was older than her predecessor, a perky twentysomething who’d shamelessly flirted with Andrew even in Madison’s presence.
“Madison, you did well this morning.”
Warmth surrounded Madison. “Thank you, Kay.”
“You hit the ground running and never missed a beat. Dr. Drake was right. You’re one sharp cookie.”
“Da—Dr. Drake said that?”
“He’s talked about you for months.”
Madison’s heart jolted. Months? She hadn’t agreed to come until Saturday, and yet he’d been discussing her with his staff?
“I have a practice in North Carolina.”
Jim laughed. “We’ve heard all about your little practice and your farm.”
The fine hairs on her body rose. Danny had known where she was all along? How much of her business—personal and professional—had he followed? Knowing he’d been spying disturbed her.
Lisa paused with her slice just shy of her lips. “He told us about the good ol’ days when you shadowed him and his son, but he didn’t tell us why you left.”
The unspoken question decimated Madison’s appetite. “I didn’t feel comfortable here after Andrew died.” She forced herself to take a bite. A full mouth gave her an excuse not to elaborate.
Kay nodded. “It must be hard coming back to the place where you worked with your husband. You were both so young—it’s such a sad story.”
What had Danny told them? The pi
zza turned to a cheesy, greasy paste in Madison’s mouth. She chewed and chewed, then finally swallowed the wad. “Y’all have helped by keeping me busy.”
Kay covered her hand. “I’m sorry, hon.”
Madison’s eyes stung at the unexpected show of sympathy. She’d needed this six years ago, but she couldn’t handle it today when her nerves were already exposed and raw from seeing ghosts. She hadn’t cried in years and wouldn’t now in front of strangers.
“I noticed Miss Findley’s and her dog’s diets have failed,” Jim said.
Madison shot him a grateful glance for his obvious attempt to head off an emotional display. She let the conversation about the morning’s patients roll past her. She’d choke down her lunch if it killed her rather than let the others know how badly their revelations had disturbed her.
Bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.
Did Danny honestly believe she’d abandon her practice and return to Norcross? Everything she’d heard implied he’d been expecting her for longer than a few days’ time. How far was he willing to go to get her back? Would he, like his son had, stoop to using underhanded tactics to get his way?
“Hernia surgeries are supposed to be a piece of cake. But you never know. Dr. Drake isn’t young.”
Kay’s statement jerked Madison from her thoughts. “Hernia?”
Heads bobbed around the table.
Jim reached for a second slice. “Dr. Drake never mentioned any symptoms. He’s been lifting big dogs like nothing bothered him. I had no idea. I could’ve helped.”
“He told you he was having hernia surgery?” she repeated to make sure she hadn’t misheard.
“Yeah, last month when he scheduled it.”
A month. He’d told her he’d scheduled his cancer surgery after Adam’s visit to her last week. Which was correct?
Madison looked into the trusting faces and realized she was the only one in the room who knew the truth. Or was she the only one who didn’t? Had Danny lied to his staff? Or had he lied to her as part of some master plot to get her back to Norcross?
