An Unexpected Proposal

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‘Conventional medicine doesn’t seem to have done her much good.’

Madeline halted and whipped around, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering. ‘Don’t you dare preach to me, Doctor. You know nothing about this case. It just so happens that conventional methods only work if you follow your doctor’s advice! Mrs Sanders is notoriously uncompliant.’

Madeline’s chest heaved, a fact not missed by Marcus. But unfortunately she didn’t give him that long to appreciate it before she stormed ahead again.

Madeline was dismayed to find that some idiot had parked her in. Her dismay grew to anger when she realised it was Marcus’s MG. She gritted her teeth. She was going to need thousands of dollars’ worth of dental work done in the not too distant future if this kept up!

She kicked one of his car’s tyres out of pure pique and leant impatiently against her boot, foot tapping. She watched his lazy swagger as he approached. Even his strut was sexy.

‘I hope you’re better at your hocus-pocus than you are at parking.’

He laughed and she shivered despite the thirty-degree day. ‘Someone got out of bed on the wrong side. Look I’m sorry, OK? I think we got off on the wrong foot this morning.’

‘Just shift your car, Dr Hunt. I have no desire to speak with you.’ She just wanted to go. Get out of his radius. His presence was too unsettling.

‘Maddy,’ he said, coming nearer, ‘I thought we’d called a truce last night? I’m really a great guy when you get to know me.’

He was too close for her sanity. She found it hard to remember to breathe around this man. He made her inexplicably want to throw caution to the wind and hop on the back of his skateboard and roll off into the sunset.

‘Your car,’ she repeated.

Marcus gave a frustrated sigh at her stonewalling. He’d never had to work this hard in his life. And it just made him more intrigued. More fascinated. More sorry about the diamond rock on Madeline Harrington’s left hand.

He gave her a long, hard look then moved away from her. He put the key in his door and decided she looked just as good in profile. ‘Why don’t we go and have a coffee or something? Get to know each other a little?’ he asked her.

‘Are you still here?’ she said, ignoring his question.

He laughed. ‘OK, OK. I guess I’ll see you later.’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she replied, and was pleased with just the right amounts of indifference and ice she’d injected into her voice.

Marcus gunned the engine and gave her another confident grin. ‘It may be sooner than you think.’ His laughter reached out and touched her even after he’d accelerated away.

The muscles of her neck ached and she didn’t have to be a chiropractor to know the cause. Stress. Also known as Marcus Hunt. He made her wary. Tense. On guard. She massaged them one-handed as she drove out to George and Mary’s acreage property for lunch.

Mary handed her a nice cold Chardonnay as soon as she arrived and they sat out on the back deck in squatters’ chairs, looking out over the gorgeous mountain view. George joined them and she filled them in on London and the events of the previous day.

‘So you’ve met Marcus,’ George said.

Madeline rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I have. Did you know he was a homeopath when you leased the premises to him?’

‘Of course,’ he said.

‘What were you thinking, George?’

He looked at her calmly. ‘I thought you might have a problem with it.’

‘I threatened to have him evicted,’ she said bluntly.

Mary gasped and held her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, no, dear! I’ve invited him to lunch.’

‘What?’ demanded Madeline, staring at Mary like she’d just grown another head.

‘He’ll be here any time soon.’

Oh, great, she thought. Was it too late to leave? Then she became annoyed. Why should she have to? George and Mary had been nothing but wonderful since her parents had died and she hadn’t seen them for six weeks.

‘Why on earth would you threaten to evict him?’ asked a shocked George.

‘Because I expected you to be as outraged as me. I thought you’d been hoodwinked by the estate agents and were oblivious to the identity of the new leaseholder.’

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said sarcastically. ‘How about all the botched-up patients we’ve seen? How about Abby?’

George looked at Madeline over the top of his glasses. She looked so much like her father. But Paul Harrington’s daughter had been through a lot over the years and it had made her much tougher than the gentle soul who had been his dearest friend. She had been emotionally guarded since high school and Simon breaking off the engagement had made her even more wary.

He sighed and took his glasses off. ‘I know she’s your sister and you know how much we cared for her, but Abby was a grown woman who made her own decisions about her health care, Madeline,’ he reminded her gently. ‘Yes, she was foolish but ultimately it was her choice who she consulted that day. You can’t brand the entire industry because of a few bad eggs. Abby must also share some of that responsibility.’

Madeline knew he was right but Abby had paid such a high price for her stupidity. ‘I know that. I’m just surprised that suddenly we appear to be endorsing this stuff,’ Madeline said.

‘Madeline,’ George sighed, getting up and moving closer, ‘Marcus is one of Melbourne’s top people in alternative medicine. He’s even worked with elite athletes, helping them find alternative medicines to treat their ailments because so much conventional stuff is on the banned list. We had him thoroughly checked out. He holds a bona fide medical degree. He’s not some radical quack. Just a good doctor offering people choices based on sound medical and homoeopathic principles. The best of both worlds.’

She knew George was making sense but an image of Marcus’s dimpled smile was stuck in her brain and she wanted it gone. ‘Why wasn’t I consulted?’

‘You’ve been away for six weeks.’

‘There are such things as telephones.’

‘It wasn’t a decision we made lightly, Madeline. We all discussed it and agreed that it would be good for the practice to promote holistic care. You’re not the only one keen to make changes so we can attract new clients. You opened the box and you’ve really helped revive the practice, but we have ideas, too. So many people come in these days wanting alternatives to pills and intrusive medical procedures. At least we can refer them to someone with an impeccable reputation.’

‘You mean you’re actually going to refer patients to him?’

‘If I feel it’s warranted. If it’s what they want—yes.’ He shrugged.

‘I don’t know, George. It’s one thing to tolerate him but to legitimise him by passing work his way is another thing entirely. You know we have to strive for best practice. And that has to be evidence-based.’

‘Come on, Madeline, so much of modern medicine and pharmacology is based on old remedies.’

She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Maybe. But that’s the problem with all this alternative nonsense, isn’t it? There’s no written studies to back up their claims. If it isn’t written somewhere, proven in some double-blind study somewhere, I don’t think I’ll be referring any of my patients.’

And she wanted as little to do with him as possible. There was something strange that happened inside her when she was around him. It was confusing and she didn’t need it in her life. As it was, she was going to have sit through lunch with him. Him and his blue eyes and wicked dimples.

‘You will be nice to him, won’t you, dear?’ said Mary.

Manners were very important to Mary. ‘Of course, Mary. I’m always polite,’ she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. Since when had she ever not done the right thing?

The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Madeline hoped it was Marcus cancelling lunch but when George didn’t come back from answering it she assumed it was for him. Mary went to check on lunch, ordering Madeline to stay where she was and relax.

Which she did. Despite the frisson of apprehension about Marcus, the combination of the heat and wine and jet lag and the quiet tranquillity of the Blakely residence had her eyelids growing heavy. Horses neighed and cows mooed and the smell of freshly cut grass filled her senses. I’ll just shut my eyes for a second, she thought sleepily.

Madeline vaguely heard the chiming of the doorbell but was still lost in the nether world of sleep when Mary directed their guest outside. ‘Madeline’s out on the deck. I’ll be there in a moment, Marcus, dear. George won’t be long.’

Marcus strolled out, steeling himself for uptight Maddy, still annoyed at him about what had happened at the hospital. He almost did a double-take when Madeline’s sleeping form came into view. She wasn’t remotely uptight in slumber. Her hair was loose and her eyes were closed and her disapproving mouth was soft and her frown was gone. He suddenly knew how the prince in Sleeping Beauty must have felt.

She lay reclined in the chair, her long legs stretched out on the leg supports of the squatter’s chair. A half-empty wine glass balanced on the broad arm. His eyes drifted to the steady rise and fall of her chest. She wore a jade-green T-shirt with a rounded neckline that clung to her female form.

The temperature outside suddenly got a lot hotter. Marcus felt his mouth go dry as the heat started to suffocate him. God! She was beautiful. He felt his groin stir and tighten. He sat at the table and watched her as she slept. This time he wasn’t going to wake her, not when just looking at her gave him pleasure. He had no idea who the man was that Maddy had committed herself to but he was one lucky guy.

Madeline frowned slightly as an image of Marcus floated in front of her. His bare chest and dimples mocked her. She awoke with a start, disorientated, her subconscious trying to drag her back into the lingering folds of her dream.

Her unfocussed gaze came to rest on Marcus. He was staring at her and she frowned. The fog shrouding her brain, intensified by her out-of-sync body clock, couldn’t compute the image in front of her. Was she still dreaming? Had she only dreamt that she’d woken up? Or was she dreaming that she was awake?

Marcus waited for the confusion to clear from her gaze. She was looking at him like he was an alien. Which was fine by him because when she finally did realise who he was she was going to be as mad as hell.

Madeline blinked rapidly a few times and rubbed her eyes. Yep—she was definitely awake. And Marcus was definitely sitting at the table, drinking a beer. Looking at her.

‘Maddy.’ He nodded. ‘Long time, no see.’

Madeline felt vulnerable in her reclining position and struggled out of the chair. ‘Madeline,’she grouched, annoyed that he’d showed up. ‘The name is Madeline!’

‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked, amused at her attempts to get out of the chair.

She ignored him, finally rising to her feet and walking down to the far corner of the deck, wineglass in hand. He was dressed as he’d been at the hospital. His comment about seeing her sooner than she thought flashed back.

‘You knew! You knew at the hospital you were coming here,’ she accused.

‘Mary invited me this morning. It seems she’s rather keen for us to meet. Besides…I never refuse a home-cooked meal.’

Madeline was just about to retaliate when Mary came out to join them. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked.

Madeline could see Mary looking at the distance between the two of them and the little frown drawing her eyebrows together.

‘Great,’ said Madeline, and smiled enthusiastically.

‘Marcus…’ Mary wagged her finger at him ‘…you never said you and Madeline had already met.’

Madeline stared incredulously at sensible, level-headed Mary. She was practically flirting with the younger man, her cheeks a delicate pink.

‘I confess.’ He dazzled a brilliant smile in Mary’s direction.

So it wasn’t just her he had an effect on? Madeline suppressed the sudden urge to scream. ‘Where’s George?’ she asked instead.

‘Here I am,’ he said, joining them, giving his wife a hug from behind. ‘Let’s eat!’

Mary was an excellent cook and Madeline was sure it tasted divine, but she found herself having to force down each mouthful. She was acutely conscious of Marcus and his witty chat. She could barely string two words together, which added to her irritation.

‘So, Marcus,’ Mary said, ‘tell us a bit about yourself.’

Marcus told them a lot about his earlier life growing up in Melbourne and Madeline was interested despite telling herself she didn’t care.

‘I’m surprised a nice young man like you hasn’t been snapped up with a couple of kids by now,’ Mary pressed.

He laughed. ‘Can you call thirty-five young?’ he asked.

George snorted. ‘You can when you’re sixty.’

Madeline was just thinking how smoothly Marcus had avoided that question when she saw his smiling face grow serious.

‘Actually, I was married once, a long time ago.’

Madeline stopped eating. His cryptic comments in the car the previous night now made some sense.

‘Too young?’ asked Mary.

‘Something like that,’ he said dismissively with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

‘Do you still see her?’ Mary asked.

‘From time to time,’ he said noncommittally, thinking about how stupid he and Tabitha had been the last time they’d caught up.

They ate a little more without speaking and then Mary said, ‘Have you had much of a chance to do any sightseeing, Marcus?’

‘Not really,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been so busy since I arrived, setting up the practice, I haven’t really been anywhere. I’ve found South Bank, I swim there most afternoons. Oh, and the local skate park.’

Yes, indeed he had, thought Madeline as she pushed her food around her plate. She thought back to when she had first seen him—had it only been yesterday?—shirtless, riding the concrete curves. His six-pack abs and his perfectly muscled quads returned in full Technicolor detail. If only she’d known then, sitting in her car at roadworks, that in less than twenty-four hours she’d actually be acquainted with skater boy, she might just have turned around and flown back to the UK.

She became aware that the other occupants of the table were staring at her expectantly. She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry…what did you say?’

‘I was just telling Marcus what a wonderful tour guide you are. You won’t mind showing him some of the local sights on your day off tomorrow, will you?’ Mary said.

Madeline blinked at her. Of course she minded! Was Mary not listening when she’d told her about the eviction threats? Was she insane? She groped around desperately for a way to wriggle out of it.