The Secrets of Her Past. Emilie Rose
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and looked around. Then it came back to her. She’d barely slept—how could she in that shrine to her dead husband? Cold penetrated her skin, seeping down to her bones. Dawn illuminated the pond. How long had she been on the screened porch? Pushing back her hair, she straightened on the swing, tightened her grip on the blanket she’d wrapped herself in and banded her arms around the void in her middle.
“Did I oversleep?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
And he hadn’t answered hers. “I came out to listen to the bullfrogs. They reminded me of home.”
Her dreams had been filled with the screech of metal against metal as her car had scraped against the guardrail, then the snap of it breaking through and rolling over and over. As always, the impact of the vehicle slamming into the tree and the pain of her stomach colliding with the steering wheel had jolted her awake. It was a familiar dream, one she’d had hundreds of times. But it still rattled her. Sometime this morning she’d trudged out here rather than risk a replay.
She gingerly eased to her feet. Her left foot was slightly numb from being tucked beneath her and made keeping her balance an iffy proposition. She grasped the swing’s chain. The links were cold against her palm, but she would not ask Adam for help.
His hair was damp and his chin gleamed from a recent shave. The unbuttoned collar of his white dress shirt revealed a wedge of tanned skin. A navy-and-red unknotted necktie draped his shoulders. The combination of his cologne, menthol shaving cream and minty toothpaste filled her nose.
She’d forgotten the appeal of a freshly showered man first thing in the morning. Her heart raced like a rabbit’s, and adrenaline gave her a burst of alertness. Certainly the intimacy of the situation was the only reason.
Yeah, right.
Adam looked good—even better than his brother had on his best day, mainly because he lacked Andrew’s cocky you-know-you-want-me swagger. Adam had a harder take-me-or-leave-me edge, or maybe there was a maturity about him that Andrew, with his perpetual fraternity-boy persona, had lacked.
But her damned hormones couldn’t tell the difference between the enemy and Andrew.
“Coffee’s in the kitchen. I’m pulling out of the garage in thirty minutes.”
The scent of coffee from the mug he held in his hand penetrated her distracting thoughts. “I’ll grab a cup and get dressed.”
She ducked past him, ignoring him as best she could when he shadowed her inside. Ten minutes after she’d left Adam she was as ready as she was ever going to be to face him again, but neither the caffeine nor her quick, steaming shower had done anything to erase the pall of last night’s nightmares. The uneasiness lingered in her mind. She hadn’t had the dream in over a year, and she’d thought she’d finally banished the hellish mental movie. Apparently Adam’s appearance had resurrected the reruns.
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