200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London

The man named Mitch—and she was perfectly happy not knowing his full name, because once she began her new job she wouldn’t have a spare moment to get to know anyone outside work anyway—grabbed each of them some champagne in a plastic flute and directed her out of the gate. Facing away from the Thames, they turned left and soon came upon a few straggling street artists, no doubt holding out for the last of the tourists of the day. Or night. She checked her watch, it was almost ten.

One street artist was completely silver and stood on a small box with a large jar for tips at his feet. His head was shaved, he wore a suit and was reading a book. Perfectly still. Another fellow wore a fedora and a raincoat, all bronze from head to toe, arms folded, one foot forward looking like something from out of the forties or fifties.

“What if their nose itches?” she said, taking a long sip of her bubbly, admiring the live art.

Mitch laughed. “I’ll ask.” He stepped forward, dug into his pocket and put a bill into the tip jar. “What do you do if your nose itches?”

The pavement artist slowly and believably came to life. First his eyes moved, then he twitched his nose. He unfolded his arms and robotically took his index finger and ran it up and down the bridge of his nose. Then, just as methodically, as if he were a machine or wind-up toy, he returned to his original stance.

Grace clapped. “Love it.”

Mitch gave her an odd look as he took the crook of her elbow and pulled her down the path. She followed willingly. Halfway down the wide walkway they came upon a huge fenced-off playground on the right.

“This is, bar none, my favorite playground,” he said.

Why would he have a favorite playground? Was he married with children? Could her innocent desire to forget and enjoy the night damage someone else’s relationship? She slowed. He noticed her hesitation, raising an eyebrow over it.

“I’m just a big kid, I guess.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that she didn’t pursue the rest of the story. He’d told her everything she needed to know. He was a big kid who happened to know about children’s playgrounds.

Yeah, he was probably a dad. A single dad? One could only hope.

But tonight wasn’t about making a new friend, learning about family trees, personal baggage, regrets, or joys. Tonight was about letting go and having a little adventure with a complete, and totally handsome, stranger. The less she knew the better. Just to be on the safe side, though, she’d memorized the walk back to the Eye and could get herself there in a flash.

She nodded. He took the cue and they walked to the entrance of the Jubilee Playground, which had a large green sign on the gate.

“‘Young adventurers this way,’” he read, glanced at her and winked. “That would be us.”

Grace saw the shoulder-high fence railings and closed gate and wondered how they’d manage to get inside, just as two hands took her by the waist and hoisted her upward. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing. “You want to go first? Or should I?”

She suppressed her need to squeal, sucking in a breath instead. “Let me take off my shoes at least.”

He put her down and moved a few feet over to an embankment where the fence was much lower. He jumped up on the cement ledge and offered down his hand. She threw her shoes onto the grass and climbed up with his help. To hell with the sexy dress, and thank God she had on the body suit!

His eyes sparkled when he glanced at her just before he jumped the fence. How the hell was she supposed to do that? Realizing his mistake, he jumped back over and helped her up, giving her time to get her footing and gain confidence, and soon, with the help of his cupped hands for her foot, she’d also scaled the fence.

Everything in the playground was made of sturdy logs and wood, encouraging the “young adventurers” to climb and play. Like a man who’d been here a number of times, Mitch led her to the swings and helped her on, then gave her a big push.

He had to be a father. And husband? Oh, no, she hoped not.

She curved into the night, feeling like a kid again. Soon he joined her on another swing and they quietly went about the business of letting down their hair in the cool evening breeze.

“This is great,” she said, having pumped her feet enough to take her to the hilt on the swing. “Haven’t done this since I don’t know when.”

“Then I’d say you’re overdue. Hey, for someone with a fear of heights, you’re awfully high.”

“That’s ’cause I’m in control.”

“Ah, a lady who likes to be in control. How refreshing.”

She’d play along with his teasing jab about pushy women. “Watch it, buddy.” With that she jumped out of her swing in midair, feeling daring, and more like a kid trying to impress an older boy than a thirty-two-year-old reconstructive surgeon.

He applauded then used his feet to stop his swing the old-fashioned way. “Want to go down the slide?” He looked directly at her in the darkness of the playground, daring her to take his challenge.

She sputtered a laugh. “In this dress?”

“You climbed the fence and dove out of the swing, didn’t you?”

“True,” she said, dusting off her hands. “But I really don’t want to ruin my dress on a slide.” She ignored his dare and walked farther on. “You’re probably renting that tuxedo, and don’t care what happens to it,” she said, one last attempt to save face.

“How about the monkey bars, then?”

“Who’s there?” came a gruff voice from over the fence. A high-beamed flashlight danced around the vicinity of the swings. She fought the urge to hide sideways behind a pole. “No trespassing.”

“We were just leaving, Officer.” Mitch stepped up and offered a hand to Grace. Her heart pounded from the swinging, and now for getting into trouble for it.

She grinned to make up for her nerves and decided to go the teasing route. “That’s what I get for going off with a strange man on an adventure. Next I’ll be thrown in jail and I’ve barely been in town twenty-four hours.”

The security officer noticed the fact that Mitch wore a tuxedo and she was in an evening dress, and he beetled his brows and tugged his earlobe. “You’re not dressed for the playground, are you?”

“No, sir, we’re escapees from the Hunter Clinic charity function at London Eye tonight,” Mitch said.

The man’s expression brightened. “The Hunter Clinic helped my niece when she’d burned her face on a campfire. Wonderful place, that clinic on Harley Street. Now if you’ll just run along, I’ll let you off with a stern warning.”

“Thank you!” Grace called out, walking briskly toward the exit.

The officer stood by and watched with one brow raised as they jumped back over the fence, Mitch helping Grace up and over. Then Mitch shook the man’s hand and the officer bid them good-night. They all walked away, the officer one direction, they in another.

“I’m starving. How about you?” Mitch asked, grinning like a kid who’d just gotten away with mischief.

Besides the salmon puff she really hadn’t eaten anything today, not yet having had time to stock food in her new kitchen. “Come to think of it, I am, too.”

“I know a great place about ten minutes away. You okay to walk in those shoes?” He nodded toward the shoes dangling from her fingers.

“I made it here, didn’t I?” She brushed off her skirt with the palm of her free hand and worried about how messed up her hair must look.

He smiled and his white teeth gleamed in the night. It wasn’t fair he was that gorgeous. “That’s the spirit.”

Fifteen minutes later they wound up past the Hunger-ford Bridge on the third floor of the Royal Festival Hall in an upscale restaurant overlooking the South Bank. They sat at the huge modern wraparound bar with a distinct 1950s-influenced design. The view was gorgeous, and Grace ordered a Cabernet Sauvignon and gnocchi. Mitch ordered a mixed drink and steak.

Up close, in the brighter-than-average lit bar, his eyes were green, more sea-green blue, and she realized she’d gotten lost gazing into them. He must have noticed and lifted the corner of his mouth in an angled smile.

“For someone from the sunny state of Arizona, you have a really creamy complexion,” he said.

“I own stock in sunscreen.” Feeling flattered he’d noticed something about her, she smiled.

He smiled back, and added a light laugh. Maybe she hadn’t lost her touch with social conversation after all, or he was going out of his way to be polite.

It was easy to make him chuckle, and their evening went on in free-flowing banter. No topic scratched below the surface. Somehow they’d made a pact not to really get to know each other. Yet she picked things up, like the fact he hated onions and separated them out of his dinner salad, and even after cavorting in the park he smelled fresh and trendy. The scent probably cost an arm and leg from some designer store. He owned his own tux and he knew where to take children to play.

The nagging question returned. Did he have a wife and family? And if so, who looked after them while he gallivanted around at charity events with strange women? Maybe he was one of the wealthy Hunter donors and could afford to live a double life.

She really needed to quit trying to figure him out and just enjoy his company. After tonight she’d never see him again anyway.

Her gnocchi was delicious and she forced herself to eat slowly. The cabernet warmed her brain and for her first night in London she had to admit she would never have come up with this scenario in her wildest dreams. Thank you, Leo, for inviting me to the Eye.

By half past midnight, rather than get to know each other, they’d discussed half a dozen couples from the bar, sizing them up and guessing their circumstances. Then, after making up far-fetched stories about secret agents and international spies along with who the couples must be, they pondered what other people might surmise about them.

“Maybe they think we’re two famous doctors out to save the world,” Mitch said, hitting very close to home in Grace’s situation.

“How about a rich American actress and her best friend’s husband,” said Grace, raising her brows, wanting to throw him off track. She must have done a good job as his expression faltered for a millisecond. Oh, no, she’d pushed the game too far. Had she hit a nerve?

The next few moments ticked by in silence, and he seemed to have lost interest in playing the game.

Mitch finished his drink and looked at his watch. “I should get you home.”

Okay, she’d definitely hit a nerve, and now she’d ruined their evening. “Yes,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward for the first time that night. “I imagine you’ve got to get home, too.” To your wife and family.

“I’m divorced, in case you’re wondering.” His mood had shifted toward all business and she suspected it was because of what she’d hinted at. Or could he read her mind?

He reached for his wallet when the bill came.

“Let me pay for mine, okay?”

He scowled at her, but quickly turned the look playful. “Not on your life. I almost got you into trouble back there. It’s the least I can do.”

She glanced at the huge run in her hose. “True. And I’ve ruined my stockings.”

“Sorry about that. Maybe I should buy you another drink?”

“No, thanks.” She sat straighter. “It was fun. Well worth the cost of new stockings.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” He left the right amount of cash plus a generous tip and got off the barstool. “We’re pod people,” he said, offering his hand. “Pod people and young adventurers, and we must stick together.”

And total strangers, don’t forget.

Grace grinned and accepted his hand to help her down then followed Mitch out of the bar. They took the elevator, more subdued than earlier, though he made eye contact with her several different times. She wondered if he’d ask for her phone number, but he didn’t. When they hit the street, he hailed a cab, opened the door and helped her to get in.

“Look,” he said, sticking his head inside but not getting into the taxi, “I’ve had a great time tonight. You’re a beautiful woman, and I thank you for spending these past few hours with me.” He sucked in a breath and Grace waited for the “but”.

“But I have a demanding job and what extra time I have … well … I don’t have time to date.” He glanced into her eyes, as if looking for understanding. She held his gaze, not saying a word. She wasn’t his type, or … Was this how men who were involved handled things? “If it was a different time in my life. If circumstances were different. The thing is, I just don’t have … well … it just wouldn’t be fair.”

“Shh,” she stopped him. She’d heard enough.

He’d made his point quite clear. There was no room for anyone else in his life. He was probably living with someone and had needed a night to himself, that was all. He was an honorable guy who didn’t fool around on the side, just hung out with strange ladies.

He’d been the one to say no strings immediately after inviting her to walk with him. What had she expected?

Silly thoughts invaded her mind but nothing could stop the disappointment that came crashing down around her. Though in her heart she knew exactly what he’d meant about not having any time beyond work. Hell, she’d been thinking those very thoughts earlier. She was in London to start a new job as a reconstructive surgeon at the Hunter Clinic on Harley Street, she planned to put her heart and soul into her job, and where did that leave her? Exactly in Mitch’s shoes.

There was simply not enough time to have a well-balanced life in her line of work.

Grace reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you so much for this superspecial introduction to London. Every time I look at that overgrown Ferris wheel I’ll think of my adventurous pod man and smile.”

He grinned, moved in closer and pecked her cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”

She lowered her eyelids and nodded. “More than you know.”

He connected with her eyes once more; there was that pang of remorse again as they shared a silent agreement—this had only been for tonight. The poignant moment stretched on until the cabbie cleared his throat.

From the mood she’d slipped into, she’d probably only projected what she thought had been a look of regret in his eyes. She knew for a fact he could detect it in her gaze.

Soon the door shut, he gave the cabbie some money and instructions. “Take the lovely lady home.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, and Mitch’s scent lingered on, Grace looked out the back window at the most amazing man she’d ever met. He stood there, posed with one hand in his pocket and his head cocked slightly to the side, as if he was a suave street artist, watching her leave.

Whatever or whoever he was, he would forever be etched in her mind as her pod man—quite possibly a figment of her imagination.

But then she glanced down at her legs and saw the gaping rip in her stockings.

No. Adventurous pod man was real. She sighed.

Life sure had a sucky way of rubbing bad timing into her scarred skin, and reminding her she was completely alone and without prospects beyond her new job.

CHAPTER TWO

GRACE WALKED up the four steps to the classic white building on Harley Street. The twin black doors on either side of a window with a colorful blooming flower box, separating entrance and exit, looked sedate and simple. But when she opened the door to the most sparkling, modern, opulent waiting room she’d ever seen, she blinked. Gray-and-black marble floors, white leather chairs, a crystal pedestal beneath a glass table in the center with a fuchsia-colored chandelier above it, nearly took her breath away.

A young and attractive blonde woman sat in one of the seats, quietly thumbing through a fashion magazine. Next to her, a middle-aged redhead, showing the results of some recent facial surgery, watched Grace’s every move.

She walked to the front desk, where another middle-aged, beautifully coiffed woman, with a name badge that said Helen, Senior Receptionist waited with a smile. Grace gave her name and her reason for being there, then turned to take a seat. She barely had time to sit in one of those amazing chairs or read the long list of surgeons’ names on the wall when the dashing Leo Hunter himself opened a door and invited her inside. Where had he been last night?

Tall, with longish black hair that flipped out a little under his ear lobes, sparkling, ocean-blue eyes, and a totally fit-looking frame, he was a man who obviously turned a lot of heads when he walked down the street. At least, he’d already turned hers, plus those of the two other ladies sharing the waiting room, though she hoped her obvious appreciation of his great looks wasn’t as obvious as theirs.

The dashing surgeon offered a welcoming smile. Great teeth, too! “Grace, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you, too. Sorry I missed you last night. I had a good time, though.”

He took a beat to think before those gorgeous eyes lit up. “Oh, the fund-raiser. Glad you enjoyed it. Yes, well, I had a great excuse—making honeymoon plans with the busiest travel agent in London.”

“How wonderful. Congratulations.”

They shook hands and he showed her into his office, gesturing for her to sit as he rounded his huge walnut desk and took his seat. “You’re going to love it here, and I’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” He shuffled papers around while she sat.

“Thank you. I’m very excited about getting started myself.”

Leo settled down and rested one hand on top of the other at his desk. “You’ve come highly recommended, you know. And what you did for those childhood cancer survivors in Arizona—reconstructing their faces, noses and jaws—well, I was blown away by your talent. That’s when I knew I wanted, no, needed someone of your caliber here at our clinic.”

Overcome with his compliments, she felt a blush coming on. She’d worn a thin white turtleneck under her spring-blue blazer. Maybe she’d have a fighting chance to cover up the warmth as it started on her chest and worked its way up her neck and cheeks before blossoming into pink. “You’re too kind, Mr. Hunter.”

“Call me Leo, please.”

“Leo,” she practiced, knowing that out of respect for him and his world-renowned clinic, it would probably never come easily to her.

“We have weekly staff meetings to discuss our various cases, and we share notes from both our successes and challenges. The point is to keep growing and learning. Don’t you agree?”

“Wholeheartedly. That’s why I accepted your generous offer to work here.” She wouldn’t go into the fact about needing to get away from her stuck-in-first-gear life.

He flashed that charming smile again and stood. “What do you say I give you a tour of our clinic? You’ll have an office here as well, of course, plus scheduled procedures, but you’ll be doing your more complicated surgeries at Princess Catherine’s or the Lighthouse Children’s hospitals, like everyone else.”

She nodded as he came round the desk again and directed her out of his office door.

“I’ll introduce you to some of the staff. Unfortunately, a lot of them are in Theater this morning.”

He walked her further down the long, pristine hall, with original artwork hanging on the walls, stunning her with color and beauty. Not a single comfort had been spared in this clinic.

He popped his head inside an office. It was empty. He respected the privacy of all occupied procedure rooms, but announced himself then tugged her inside the staff lounge. A half dozen nurses greeted her with genuine smiles, and she felt warmly welcomed and thought maybe she’d finally found a place where she could belong.

Though most of the office doors were closed, she saw the nameplates on them: Iain McKenzie, Rafael de Luca, Edward North, Abbie de Luca, Declan Underwood, Kara Stephens. The hallway forked in another direction, with more names on the office doors. All closed. Then around the corner, at the far end, was another closed door. The plaque read Ethan Hunter, his office as far away from his brother’s office as possible in this building.

“Sorry things look a bit like a ghost town today, but we keep a heavy schedule. Mondays are always busy and everyone is either in Theater or preparing to do surgery.”

“I understand.”

A chirpy female voice came from another office as they doubled back.

“Oh, at least I can introduce you to Alexia Robbins. Lexi, as we call her. She’s our head of public relations.” He tapped on the partially open door. “Lexi?”

She was on the phone, but immediately waved them in while she quickly finished up her conversation. “Great, I’ll have all the information to you by this afternoon. Thanks!”

She hung up and looked excitedly at Leo. “Just scored a two-minute promo on the local news station about yesterday’s charity event at the Eye.” She stopped talking when she realized Leo wasn’t alone.

“Fantastic,” he said. “Tell me all about it later.”

“Will do.”

“Lexi, this is Grace Turner, our newest reconstructive surgeon.”

“Oh, lovely to meet you.” Lexi jumped to her feet and offered her hand. They shook lightly. Grace immediately liked the tall, bubbly lady with blonde hair and an hourglass figure, wearing a bright pink dress. Her flashing blue eyes gave off a mischievous glint. “If there’s anything I can do to help in any way …”

“As a matter of fact,” Leo said, “I was hoping you’d give her a tour of the hospitals this afternoon.”

“Love to.”

“Grand. Talk later.” Leo moved toward the door.

“Hold on, mister,” Lexi said playfully. “How is the honeymoon planning going?”

Leo gave her a look. She wouldn’t back down. “Well?”

“What do you think, Lexi? I’ve married the most wonderful girl in the world. Paris in June will be perfect.”

Lexi’s cheeks pinkened with pleasure. She nearly sighed, like a woman in love. Leo glanced at Grace, who was feeling very out of the loop.

“Lexi recently got engaged herself, so she’s being a busybody.”

“It’s my job, being in PR and all,” she teased back, playing with the ring band … which held a huge rock. Wow.

Grace had never seen anything like it. Whatever the stone, it was humongous and pink, and all the little surrounding diamonds sparkled around it.

“So what do you say, Grace, is noon good for you?” Lexi tore Grace away from her thoughts. “We can grab lunch at the clinic buffet before we head over to the hospitals.”

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

Off Leo and Grace went, retracing their steps along the row of closed doors. “We do a lot of our plastics on-site. Down there is the recovery room. Plus we make arrangements for many of our patients to spend the night in nearby luxury recovery apartments,” he said.

She’d gotten the impression many of the first-floor apartments in her building were there for that very reason.

“I’ve put you next to another American. Wanted to make you feel at home.”

He opened the door and showed her the beautifully decorated office that would be hers. It was small but comfortable with a lovely window that let in daylight. She turned in a circle looking at everything, thinking how she’d utilize the space, cabinets and amazing medical library. She went behind her chrome-and-glass desk and tested out the white leather chair. “I love it.”

“Wonderful.” Leo leaned against the doorframe. “Cooper! Come out and meet your new neighbor,” Leo called into the hallway, then looked back at her. “I’m glad you like it. You’ll get along swimmingly with Mitchell Cooper. He’s one of our top plastic surgeons. Been with us four years now.” Leo smiled at someone outside in the hallway. “Come and meet Grace Turner. She’s American, too.”

Popping into the doorway, sporting a wide grin, adventurous pod man appeared. And Grace nearly fell out of her custom comfort chair.

She looked at him. He stared back. Both of them were wide-eyed and unbelieving. A silent message jumped between them, followed by a quick bargain. Leo wouldn’t find out that they’d already met. Agreed.