Emilie Rose - The Secrets of Her Past

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.