*
Satisfied that she exhibited no obvious signs of a concussion and was in no immediate danger, Michael stood and went back to the counter. He poured her a cup of coffee and placed a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of her. She stared at it as if she had never seen such a thing before in her life.
The truth was, Michael was stalling, because he wasn’t quite sure how to answer her question. He had been asking the same one of himself all night long. He had checked on her periodically through the night and each time, she was resting comfortably. But he had stayed anyway. It was the strangest thing. Even though he knew he should head back to the Pub, he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. He was feeling oddly... protective.
“I couldn’t leave you here alone in the state you were in,” he answered finally, gesturing for her to eat.
“I see.” She kept her expression neutral, but warring emotions swirled in her eyes. Such pretty green eyes. “Well, Dr. Callaghan,” she said carefully, “caring for others is obviously more than just a profession for you. I can’t say I’ve encountered anyone quite as dedicated. I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed. Perceptive as he was, he wasn’t quite sure how to take her words. Her tone wasn’t cold, exactly, but neither did it hold the natural warmth he’d already come to expect from her. Instead it was shielded, cautious, and... confused?
He studied her from beneath his lashes as he leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee, trying to formulate an appropriate reply. Surely he hadn’t imagined her physical response to him just moments ago. She found him attractive – all the signs were there. The lovely flush that made her skin glow; the shallow, hitched breaths; the rapid, forceful pulse hammering just below the delicate curve of her jaw.
She had a profound effect on him as well, enough that he felt the need to cross the room and put a little distance between them. Michael had never had a problem examining a patient before, and as exams went, this one was pretty innocuous. He’d always had the ability to separate business from pleasure, but with Maggie, those usually clear, solid lines blurred. How could he not look into those eyes and start to lose himself? How could he touch the heated silk of her flesh and not feel his own heart rev in response?
It was more than just a purely physical reaction, though, and that’s what was causing that odd little sensation in his chest. It was the emotional distance she seemed to be putting between them that he objected to more than anything. Until now, she seemed to be relatively at ease – if not entirely comfortable – with his presence. She had trusted him enough to allow him to drive her home, to enter her home, and to let him close enough to examine her (he refused to accept that she had done so due solely to the influence of alcohol or blunt force trauma).
And when she’d walked into the kitchen and found him there earlier, there had been no fear, no anger, no disappointment. Just surprise and, he could have sworn, delighted surprise at that. So where was this polite, unaffected response coming from? Two things he knew for sure – one, this wasn’t the real Maggie, and two, he didn’t like it.
The answer dawned on him as she sat there, arms drawn in tightly and resting on her lap, looking up at him with genuine bafflement. She had asked him why he was here, and his response had been as non-committal as he could make it, falling back on his profession as an excuse, when in truth, it was far simpler than that: He’d stayed because he wanted to. He liked being here with her, in her cozy, warm kitchen. He liked caring for her. Hell, he even liked her dog. And she didn’t seem to comprehend any of it.
She has no self-confidence. Sherri’s words came back to him, seemingly more apropos to Maggie’s behavior this morning than last night. But surely a woman like Maggie was used to male attention, wasn’t she? And how was he going to rectify the situation, convince her that he was here for more than just a professional obligation without coming across as a psycho?
It would take time. And patience. And effort. He quickly decided she was worth it. No other woman had struck such a chord within him in so short a time, and that had to mean something. After witnessing what happened to two of his brothers over the past two years, he had to at least consider the possibility that lightning had struck the Callaghan clan for the third time. For now, however, he offered what he hoped she would accept at face value.
“Call me Michael, please. And it was no trouble.”