The Playboy Doctor. Sarah Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ He shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t understand her attitude. ‘There are so many awful things happening in the world that we need to grab happiness while we can. That’s what I do, Joanna.’

      ‘I’d noticed.’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. ‘And the chances of you and I working together for longer than a day without killing each other are so remote it’s laughable. Now, if you’ll leave me in peace, I was making myself some toast when you arrived.’

      Joanna turned and walked briskly to the kitchen, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her.

      He did, and she gritted her teeth as he settled himself comfortably at the scrubbed pine table which dominated the room.

      Seb’s gaze followed her as she moved around the kitchen. ‘Is that all you’re eating? Toast? Is there anything else on the menu?’

      ‘Menu?’ She glared at him. ‘This isn’t a restaurant, Dr Macaulay.’

      Not only was the man content to torment her and totally disrupt her working life, he now expected her to feed him gourmet food. She took a deep breath as she removed the toast—now stone cold—from the toaster.

      She knew she wasn’t being very welcoming but she couldn’t help it. The man drove her nuts!

      ‘Look, let’s start again, shall we?’ Suddenly he looked tired as if he, too, was worn out by the tension between them. ‘I’ve had a long journey and I’d appreciate some food until I can go shopping myself.’

      He made her feel churlish and she blushed slightly, wondering what on earth had happened to her normal warm hospitality. Alice would have been horrified if she’d been present.

      Admitting defeat, she gave a sigh. ‘Please, feel free to help yourself to anything you can find, Dr Macaulay.’

      As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn’t spoken. A man like Seb Macaulay wouldn’t find much that would interest him in her fridge or cupboards.

      ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna, when are you going to drop the formality and call me Seb?’ Amusement vied with irritation as he got to his feet in a lithe movement. ‘All this ‘‘Dr’’ business is a bit over the top, don’t you think? We trained together. I’ve known you since you were plain Joanna Weston.’

      And that was exactly was what she’d always been, of course. Plain Joanna Weston. Very plain.

      She felt a shaft of pain and was suddenly hideously conscious of the crumpled skirt she’d been wearing since she’d been called out in the night and the fact that she hadn’t brushed her hair all day.

      ‘I like formality,’ she said briskly, telling herself firmly that she didn’t care what he thought. ‘And the patients like it. It makes them feel secure.’

      ‘Rubbish.’ Seb was totally dismissive of her statement. ‘People judge you on your actions and behaviour—not on your title.’

      Refusing to be drawn, Joanna buttered her cold toast and took an unenthusiastic bite.

      Seb watched her with an expression of disbelief. ‘Is that seriously all you’re eating?’

      ‘I like toast,’ she muttered, not bothering to add that she didn’t have the energy to tackle anything else.

      ‘Well, you at least ought to add some protein to it.’ He strolled over to the fridge, jerking open the door to examine the contents. There was a long silence and then he glanced up, visibly stunned. ‘Now I know why you’re reduced to eating toast. Don’t you ever shop?’

      Joanna lifted her chin defensively. ‘I haven’t had time to shop, Dr Mac—Sebastian.’

      Or change her clothes, or sleep...

      ‘Seb.’ He enunciated the word carefully, as if she were a toddler that he was teaching to talk. ‘My name is Seb. For goodness’ sake, practise it a few times until it feels comfortable.’ He peered back into the fridge. ‘What on earth have you been eating all week? There’s nothing in here.’ He reached into the fridge and pulled out a small piece of cheese covered in mould, which he looked at with distaste. ‘For crying out loud, Jo, there’s more bacteria in your fridge than in a path lab.’

      ‘I don’t like cheese.’ She glared at him. ‘And I’ve asked you before not to call me Jo.’

      He ignored her, still staring into the fridge as though he expected to catch some hideous disease. ‘What did you have for lunch?’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘Lunch.’ He looked at her as though she were an alien from another planet. ‘You know, the food that we generally consume in the middle of the day to give us the energy to carry on with our lives. What did you have?’

      Joanna looked at him blankly, wondering why her eating habits were of such interest to him. ‘I don’t know. I—Nothing.’

      Suddenly he was still. ‘You didn’t eat lunch?’

      ‘I was busy.’

      His breath hissed through his teeth. ‘You’re a doctor, Joanna. You should know better. How do you expect to be able to carry your workload without fuel? No wonder you nearly fainted earlier.’

      ‘I didn’t nearly faint—I just got up too quickly.’

      ‘Right.’ The disparaging look he gave her told her that he didn’t believe her. ‘What did you have for breakfast?’

      ‘I was at the hospital.’

      ‘For God’s sake, woman!’ He slammed the fridge shut and ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression exasperated. ‘When did you last eat?’

      ‘I’m eating now,’ she said pointedly, taking another bite out of her toast.

      ‘I mean proper food,’ he growled. ‘That’s no good for you at all.’

      Shaking his head with disbelief, he turned on his heel and strode back through to the hall, delving into his jacket pocket for his car keys.

      ‘Where are you going?’ She followed him, torn between outrage that he’d been so blunt and a faint hope that he’d decided he couldn’t possibly work with her and was leaving her in peace.

      ‘Shopping.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders into his jacket and turned to face her, his expression ominous. ‘You’re almost burnt out, Joanna. You’re starving hungry and exhausted, and unless you do something about it fast you’re going to collapse. Go and have a relaxing bath—that’s if you know what the word ‘‘relaxing’’ means, which I seriously doubt—and I’ll go out and buy us both something decent for supper. Something that isn’t covered in mould or hairs and isn’t at least two months past its sell-by date.’

      With that he yanked open the door and crunched across the drive to his sports car without a backward glance.

      * * *

      Fate was definitely not smiling on him.

      Seb opened the boot of the car, removed the shopping bags СКАЧАТЬ