Noah stood there looking down at her. She was probably cute as a cuddly little doll when she wasn’t black-and-blue, but it was hard for him—with his medical training and experience—to get past the blotchy bruises on her face. Even so, he still felt remnants of that incredible fit of laughter he’d enjoyed—yes, enjoyed—only minutes ago. He couldn’t remember when he’d let go and laughed so uninhibitedly, and it certainly was the last thing he might have expected from today’s begrudged duty. In a way he couldn’t quite define but still knew to be true, those moments of uncontrollable laughter had created a bond between him and Maddie Kincaid; she might not feel it, but he did, and some rusty, rather tarnished part of him cherished the sensation.
“I rang the front doorbell and knocked on the side door before using the key,” he said. “I promised Mark that I’d take care of you while he’s away, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” In his own mind Noah realized how he had just expanded his promise to keep an eye on Maddie into taking care of Maddie, which gave him a start.
But someone should be caring for her. She certainly didn’t appear strong enough to be doing everything for herself. Her weakened condition explained the messy kitchen, of course. What Noah could not comprehend was how Mark could have gone off and left his frail little sister alone in the house. Didn’t he realize how badly off Maddie really was?
Noah shed his winter scarf and jacket and laid them on the back of a chair, aware that Maddie Kincaid’s eyes had grown wary and suspicious.
“Don’t get paranoid just because I took off my jacket,” he told her. “It happens to be hot as Hades in here. What temperature do you have the furnace set on?” He looked around. “Where’s the thermostat?”
“It’s in the kitchen, but don’t you dare lower that dial!”
“Maddie, you can’t be cold. You’re dressed in thermal underwear…” He couldn’t help coughing out another laugh over the image that comment conjured up but he managed to stifle it before it got out of hand. After clearing his throat, he continued, “And you’re wrapped in a goose down comforter.”
“So?”
Noah frowned as the physician in him took over. “You really are cold? Are you having chills?”
“If I am it’s none of your affair,” Maddie retorted, hoping she sounded in keen command of her senses and authoritative. After all, what could she really do to defend herself against anything this guy might do? Regardless of her physical ineptitude, though, her mouth and don’t-tread-on-my-space attitude were working just fine, and she demanded haughtily, “What do you think you are, a doctor?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” He approached the sofa and sat on the sturdy wood coffee table, which had been in the way when he’d carried Maddie back to her bed but was handy as all get-out now. “Let me take your pulse.”
Maddie was gawking at him with her mouth open. He was a doctor? Yeah, right. “Oh, like I should believe you?”
Noah reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet, which he flipped open right in front of Maddie’s face so she could see his medical ID card. “What does that say?” he asked a bit smugly.
She studied the photo on the card and then Noah’s face and realized with a sinking sensation that he was almost unbelievably handsome. He was, in fact, the kind of man that idiot women the world over—of which she was not one, thank you very much—chased after like a dog on the scent of a bone. This guy had thick black hair, eyebrows and lashes, vivid blue eyes, a sensual, kissable mouth if she’d ever seen one, and a strong masculine chin that announced a massive stubborn streak. With his height and build, he was one drop-dead package, which was unnerving for a woman whose few romantic relationships had been with your everyday, average-looking men.
But his stunning good looks and normally noble profession didn’t make him trustworthy, and she didn’t trust him. Why would she? Doctor or not, he had walked into this house without an invitation from her, which, in her estimation, was an invasion of privacy, whatever he might call it. Well, he was going to find out that she was no pansy, however he made his living. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a straightforward answer to his irritating question about his ID, she drew her left hand from under the comforter and held it out. “So, go ahead and take my pulse, if that’s what turns you on.”
“Turns me on?” Noah chuckled. “You’re quite the little comic, aren’t you?” He took her wrist and counted pulse beats while looking at his watch. “Apparently you think so,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “You got positively hysterical when you first saw me.”
Noah tucked her hand and wrist back under the comforter. Her pulse was a little too fast; he needed a temperature and blood pressure check.
“You’d have gotten hysterical, too, if you could have seen yourself. What did you think you were going to do with that paperweight? Wait, I know, you thought you’d laugh me to death.”
“You’re so corny you should be ashamed to open your mouth and say one word.”
“Yep, that’s me, old cornball himself.” Noah stood up. “I want to take you to the hospital.”
Maddie scoffed. “Just try it and you’ll think you got hold of a wildcat, buster. Oh, excuse me, that’s Dr. Buster.”
“Maddie, I need to run some tests. You could have an infection.”
“Read my lips. I am not going to the hospital. Besides, I’m taking antibiotics so I do not have an infection.”
“Where are they? I want to see what it is that you’re taking.”
Maddie had to think a minute. “They’re probably on the kitchen table.”
Noah found them and returned. “Okay, these aren’t too bad, but you might need something stronger. Maddie, do you have a doctor in Whitehorn?”
“No…not yet.” She closed her eyes because she was getting very tired again. Being brave and courageous with very little strength as she’d been doing since “Dr. Buster” had intruded upon her rest was rapidly depleting her already low energy level.
“Go away,” she mumbled. “I need to sleep.”
Noah did go away; he headed for Mark’s bathrooms. Searching the medicine cabinets, he finally found what he was looking for—a thermometer. Dousing it in alcohol, which was also in the same cabinet, he hurried back to Maddie.
“Open your mouth,” he told her. “I’m going to take your temperature.”
“No, leave me alone,” she mumbled thickly.
“Maddie, open your mouth!” Noah worked the tip of the thermometer between her lips, and she finally stopped fighting him. In a couple of minutes he had his answer. Her temp was 101.6 degrees, not dangerously high but too high to ignore. He could force her to go to the hospital by calling an ambulance and giving her a knockout shot, but that seemed pretty drastic at this point. But to do anything at all for her, he needed his medical bag, some supplies and a different antibiotic.
“Maddie, listen to me. I’m going to leave for a few minutes. I won’t be long. You stay covered up and rest, all right?” He didn’t wait for a reply. Grabbing his jacket, he put it on as he strode through the house to the kitchen door and went outside. Using Mark’s key, he turned the inside dead bolt, giving Maddie the security she’d obviously thought she’d had all along. One of two things had happened, Noah reasoned: Mark hadn’t locked the door before leaving, which Noah couldn’t quite believe, as Mark Kincaid was a very dependable sort, or Maddie, for some reason, had unlocked it and then forgot to relock it. In her present state, she could do almost anything and then forget it. How in God’s name had Mark not noticed?
During the cross-town drive to the hospital, Noah thought about Maddie’s medications. Besides