Page 4 of Prognosis Incompatible

She had to get back some control here.

‘Yes.’ He swapped the paintbrush to his left hand, wiped his right on his denim-covered buttock and offered it to her.

She ignored it, her rudeness seeming to amuse him even further. Madeline got the impression that nothing fazed Marcus Hunt.

‘And you are?’

‘Madeline Harrington. Dr Madeline Harrington.’

‘Oh, right...from next door.’ He smiled. ‘We’ll be neighbours, then.’ The thought, despite the bling on her hand, was immensely appealing.

‘Ah, no...I don’t think so.’

‘Oh?’ Marcus queried, not particularly worried. ‘Problem?’

‘Two, actually. One...’ Madeline held up one finger. ‘I object, most strenuously, to you using the title of Doctor. Naturopaths or any other alternative medicine nuts are not permitted to call themselves doctors.’

‘They can if they hold a medical degree,’ he stated matter-of-factly. ‘And I’m a homeopath, actually.’

Madeline blinked. ‘You’re...a real doctor?’

Apparently not insulted by her frank incredulity, he threw back his head and laughed. The long column of his neck was exposed to her view and, despite her irritation, an errant brain cell dared her to lick it.

‘Is that so hard to believe?’

‘Quite frankly, yes,’ Madeline admitted. He didn’t look like any kind of doctor she had ever known. Her father had been a doctor, his two nearing-retirement partners were doctors. Simon was a doctor!

Those men were what doctors looked like.

‘I believe there was a second?’ Marcus prompted after some time had elapsed and Madeline hadn’t continued.

She made a supreme effort to drag her eyes away from his mouth and concentrate on the conversation. ‘Yes. Secondly.’ She cleared her throat, her chin jutting determinedly ‘It will be a cold day in hell before I will allow you to practise this...quackery, this medieval...mumbo-jumbo, right next door to our practice. My partners and I will not legitimise this hocus-pocus by allowing you premises next to ours.’

Marcus stared intently at Madeline Harrington, listening carefully as she laid down the law. Two red spots of colour stained her cheeks and there was a fine tremble husking up her voice. He wondered what it would be like to have her breath trembling against his skin. His loins stirred again and he had to remind himself she was not on the market.

‘And just how do you propose to stop me, Maddy?’

She opened her mouth to lay down exactly how she intended to see that he didn’t practise his faux style of medicine and stopped abruptly at his casual familiarity. No one - no one - had called her that since Abby. Sorrow and pain lanced through her as an image of her younger sister formed in her mind.

Some days it still had the power to take her breath away.

‘The name is Madeline,’ she snapped.

‘Maybe. But I think I’ll call you Maddy, anyway.’

‘You won’t be getting the chance, Dr Hunt. You’re being evicted first thing Monday.’

‘I have a lease, Maddy.’

Madeline laughed coldly even as her insides melted at the way he said her name. Like a sigh. Like a purr. ‘My partners and I own this building, Dr Hunt. Once they discover that a quack has set up shop next door, you won’t last five minutes. Not even your magic wand will be able to help you. Why not leave graciously now? Go perform your witchcraft elsewhere.’

She glowed triumphantly, having placed her trump card on the table but he appeared unconcerned.

‘Why stop at eviction, Maddy?’ he enquired softly. ‘Why not just burn me at the stake and be done with it?’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

Oh, she tempted him all right...‘What are you afraid of?’ he asked. ‘Have you forgotten that Hippocrates was a homoeopath? Surely this world is big enough for both conventional and alternative medicine?’

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