The Brooding Doc's Redemption. Kate Hardy

the facts. Or was that a gentle warning to him? Marc wondered. He’d told her that he was single. Perhaps this was her way of telling him that even if he might be interested, she wasn’t.

      ‘Noted,’ he said drily. He took a bite of the still-warm cookie. ‘This is very nice.’

      ‘Thank you. And please don’t let Cocoa con you into sharing with him. They’re bad for his teeth, and he’s very far from being a poor, starving hound.’

      The dog looked up at him with mournful eyes, and Marc couldn’t help smiling. ‘Not according to him.’

      ‘He’s an old fraud.’ She smiled back. ‘Sam said you were interested in sports medicine. Is that what you did in your last job?’

      ‘It was more of a spare-time thing, really. I worked with the local rugby club.’

      ‘Oh. Do you play?’ she asked.

      ‘Not any more.’ Marc found himself volunteering information; he hadn’t expected that and it unnerved him slightly. ‘I was injured.’

      ‘Knee?’ she guessed.

      ‘Shoulder. Dislocation, then a rotator cuff tear.’

      ‘Ouch.’ She looked sympathetic. ‘I’m not surprised you stopped playing. In your shoes, I wouldn’t want to risk doing that again.’

      ‘Believe me, after three months of doing nothing but triage calls because my arm was out of action, I’d never risk it again.’ And he wished with all his heart that he hadn’t given in to the frustration he’d felt at having to give up the game he loved. Because then maybe he could’ve stopped the chain of events that had wrecked his life and robbed him of everything else he loved.

      ‘I guess rugby and football probably wouldn’t be the best kind of exercise for our group anyway,’ she said.

      ‘I’d say no to squash as well,’ he said.

      ‘Very sensible. And we’ll ban them from jogging. We’re trying to improve their circulation, not give them shin splints.’

      ‘Or overdoing it in the first flush of enthusiasm and giving themselves a heart attack.’ He looked thoughtfully at her. ‘Badminton’s a possible.’

      ‘And swimming. As well as low-impact exercise classes and circuit training,’ she suggested.

      ‘Maybe martial arts—kick-boxing doesn’t have to be fast and furious.’

      She smiled. ‘I’ve always fancied trying that one myself.’ She took a laptop from a drawer in the huge pine dresser. ‘Let’s start getting this down.’ The computer whirred and made a couple of protesting noises, and she rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry, this is a bit old. I’m afraid it takes ages to boot up.’

      His own was state of the art and would’ve been ready to go by now. As a single mum, Laurie would have to juggle her finances, and a new computer probably wasn’t top of her priorities, Marc thought.

      They made a list together. Halfway through it, the timer on the oven beeped.

      ‘Sorry, do you mind if I sort this out?’ she asked. ‘The topping works best if you do it when the cake’s hot.’

      ‘I take it that’s for school?’ He grinned.

      ‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘But, if you’re good, I’ll make a cake for the surgery later in the week.’

      It smelled wonderful, and Marc ignored the fact that this was the first time he’d been interested in food in a very, very long time. ‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘If you can talk at the same time as you do whatever it is you’re doing to the cake, I’ll take over the typing.’

      ‘Excellent. Thanks.’

      Marc surreptitiously watched her as she took the cake out of the oven, pierced the top with a skewer and spooned the contents of a bowl over it. She looked up and caught him looking at her. ‘It’s lemon and sugar.’

      The citrus scent made his mouth water. ‘Is this the one Sam told me about?’

      ‘Yes. It’s his favourite. So, are you going to do some typing or just hoping for cake, like Cocoa is?’

      He couldn’t help smiling. ‘I’m typing. Start talking.’

      Within twenty minutes they had a good list. They worked through it again and weeded out some of the more unlikely suggestions they’d come up with.

      ‘This looks good to me. I’ll work my way through it and put in the contacts, and then give you your half of the list tomorrow,’ Laurie said.

      ‘That’s fine,’ Marc said. ‘And I guess I’d better let you get on.’ Especially as he felt way too comfortable here. And that unnerved him.

      She smiled at him. ‘Thanks. Sadly, the washing-up won’t do itself, and it’d be a bit self-indulgent to have a dishwasher when there’s only Izzy and me living here. Are you sure you don’t want another coffee before you go?’

      ‘I’m sure, but thanks for the offer. See you tomorrow.’

      There was something lost about the expression in Marc’s eyes, Laurie thought when Marc had gone. Had he been through a bad divorce? That might explain why he’d come here from London. Maybe she could find a tactful way of talking to him and help him understand that it did get better eventually.

      OK, so she hadn’t actually been married to Dean, but the break-up and then sorting out everything afterwards had been tough. The only thing missing had been the fight in court; the rest of the acrimony and guilt had been there.

      Just as Marc had left, she’d wanted to put her arms round him, hold him close and tell him not to worry because everything was going to work out just fine. Which was crazy. She barely knew the man. And she certainly wasn’t looking for any complications in her own life.

      Then again, she’d been lucky. She’d had people there for her when her own life had hit the skids. And she had the strongest feeling that Marc didn’t. He was a stranger to the area. He could do with a friend. OK, so when she’d come home she’d been far from a stranger—but she knew what that felt like, to need a friend. So it would be mean of her to back off and ignore him … Wouldn’t it?

      CHAPTER THREE

      ON WEDNESDAY morning, Marc walked into his surgery to find a plate on his desk containing a cupcake exactly like the ones he’d seen in Laurie’s kitchen the previous night, along with a printed copy of the table he and Laurie had made together, detailing the different exercise providers and which of them was going to call each one, with space to scribble notes.

      That cake gave him an odd feeling. Was this the sort of thing his own child would’ve done with Ginny, making cakes and decorating them haphazardly and sending him off to work with one? A little thing, made with such love …

      He shook himself as he heard a rap on the door, a nanosecond before it opened. Sam, the senior partner, leaned round the door. ‘Morning, Marc. How are you settling in?’

      ‘Fine, thanks.’ Marc summoned up a professional smile, not wanting Sam to see how much the cupcake had thrown him.

      ‘I meant to say yesterday, Ruth said you’re very welcome to come to ours for lunch on Sunday. It’s not much fun having weekends on your own and it takes a while to settle into a small country town, especially when you’re used to the city.’

      Marc appreciated the overture of friendship but he’d learned that, once people knew about his past, any friendship tended to come tempered with pity. He had quite enough pity for himself without needing it from others. ‘Thanks. That’s really kind of you, but I have a few things to sort out.’

      ‘Sure. Well, you know where we are if you change your mind. Just turn up.’

      ‘Thanks. I will.’ Though Marc had no intention of doing so. He didn’t deserve