Page 17 of Prognosis Incompatible

CHAPTER THREE

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THE pounding was likejackhammers 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 shut. 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?’

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