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‘You’re all dolled up. What’s that about?’
‘I am not,’ Daisy replied, mortally offended. But as she focussed on her reflection she could see Juno had a point. The figure-flattering dress, the sparkle of bangles and beads, the signature scent of patchouli, not to mention the make-up she’d been applying, made it look as if she were planning a night on the town, not a night spent nursing a sick man. Shocked and a little dismayed, she shoved the lip gloss back in her make-up bag.
She most definitely was not dressing up for Brody’s benefit; the very thought was ludicrous.
She didn’t even like the guy.
Daisy slipped on her battered Converse, forgoing the beaded Indian sandals she’d already pulled out of the closet. ‘I’m not dressed up—this is me getting comfortable,’ she said lamely.
She pretended she didn’t hear Juno’s grunted, ‘Yeah, right,’ as her best friend trailed after her.
‘Don’t wait up,’ Daisy said, closing the door to her bedsit. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’
‘Be careful,’ Juno said, giving her one last considering look.
The crooked banisters of the old Georgian house creaked as Daisy made her way down the stairs. She noticed the peeling paint as she opened the front door, the patched plaster on the stoop. The house’s imperfections had always made her feel comforted and secure. As she walked the few steps to Brody’s door she couldn’t help comparing Mrs Valdermeyer’s cosy wreck of a house to the sleek, impersonal perfection of its neighbour.
Daisy sighed as she walked in.
The sight of Brody’s naked body might have short-circuited her hormones, but she was not going to allow it to short-circuit her brain cells too. The very last thing she needed was for anything to happen between her and her arrogant new neighbour. He might be dishy, but she’d only needed to spend a few minutes in his company—and his home—to know he was so not right for her it wasn’t even funny.
‘He’ll probably drift in and out until the temperature breaks,’ Maya Patel announced, slinging her black bag under her arm. ‘Keep dousing him with ice water. And if you can, get some more paracetamol down him in four hours’ time.’
Daisy nodded, the butterflies having a ball in her stomach at the thought of the long night ahead.
‘Are you sure it’s not serious?’ Daisy asked. Like most doctors, Maya didn’t seem to think anything short of double pneumonia was worth getting excited about.
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine once he’s sweated it out of his system. His temperature’s hovering around one hundred and two, but that’s to be expected. If it gets any higher give me a call. But his breathing’s okay and he’s a young, healthy guy.’ Maya smiled at Daisy. ‘Actually, if I wasn’t here in a professional capacity, not to mention married and a mother of three children—I’d say he was a total hunk.’
Daisy dropped her head to concentrate on undoing the front door latch, her cheeks boiling.
‘He’s been in the wars a few times,’ Maya continued. ‘But he seems to have come through them surprisingly well.’
‘You mean the scars on his back?’ Daisy asked as she yanked the heavy door open.
‘Yeah, do you know where he got them?’
‘No, I hardly know the guy,’ Daisy replied. Then her curiosity got the better of her. ‘What’s your professional opinion?’
‘Old, probably from before he hit puberty would be my guess, but I’m no expert,’ Maya said matter-of-factly, then chuckled as she stepped onto the stoop. ‘And why, might I ask, do you care if you hardly know the guy?’
Daisy struggled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t sound totally suspicious. She might as well not have bothered.
‘Ah-ha.’ Maya pointed an accusing finger at her. ‘I thought so. Seems I’m not the only one who thinks our patient is a hunk.’
‘He’s okay,’ Daisy replied flatly, praying her rosy cheeks weren’t a total giveaway.
Maya jogged down the front steps. ‘Let me know how he’s doing tomorrow if the fever still hasn’t broken.’ She turned by the kerb and wiggled her eyebrows at Daisy. ‘And keep an eye on your own temperature, Daze. Being in a room with a guy that hunky and that naked all night long can be hard work.’ She winked. ‘But I’m sure you’re up to the job.’
She laughed as Daisy’s cheeks shot from rosy to beetroot, and climbed into her car.
Daisy locked the front door and leaned back against it, focussing on the room down the hall where her hunk of a patient awaited.
A platoon of butterflies dive-bombed under her breastbone.
Hard work indeed. Maya didn’t know the half of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
