Page 22 of Prognosis Incompatible

‘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.

They ate in silence, Madeline savouring the mouth-watering flavour of the omelette and Marcus savouring her animated appreciation of his cooking. The shower had obviously done her the world of good. It had put the colour back in her cheeks.

He finished and pushed his plate away then sat, arms folded, regarding her, his expression blank. Madeline stopped, egg-laden fork paused halfway between the plate and her mouth. His stare unsettling.

Their gazes locked. Madeline’s ears filled with the pounding of her heart. A slight vibration of the fork betrayed the frantic beat.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Just watching.’

Madeline tried not to be self-conscious as she ate but found it too unnerving. ‘Must you?’ she asked impatiently, putting down her fork.

Marcus chuckled, a low deep noise, and Madeline breathed easier when he got up from the table. He prowled around the dining room, inspecting her framed photographs.

‘This the ring-giver?’ he asked.

Madeline looked up and saw him with Simon’s photo. Her first instinct was to admit they were no longer engaged, but if looking at a photo of Simon served as a reminder to Marcus that she was spoken for, even if it was temporarily untrue, then she wasn’t going to disabuse him.

‘That’s my fiancé, yes,’ she said, hoping that a huge lightning bolt wouldn’t crack open the ceiling and fry her where she sat.

Marcus stared at the other man for a while. ‘So why isn’t he here, looking after you?’

‘He’s a busy surgical registrar at the hospital. It’s difficult to synchronise our schedules.’ She shrugged, irritated by his subtle criticism. ‘He has a lot on his plate.’

‘Surely some things are more important,’ Marcus said.

Madeline couldn’t believe he was forcing her to defend a man who had dumped her! ‘His shifts suck and he’s got exams coming up. I’m not a child. I can look after myself.’

“Sure. But sometimes it’s nice to be looked after.’

Marcus shook his head at the framed photo. What an idiot. Who would choose their work over Maddy? Did the man not realise that she might not be there when he was finished forging a career? Women deserved to be appreciated and adored — not neglected!

‘What?’ she asked defensively, noticing Marcus’s disparaging look. It seemed strange that another man was in her house, making himself at home, touching her stuff, looking at her pictures.

‘Nothing,’ he said, and put the frame down.

‘Yes,” she insisted, ‘There’s something.’

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