bannerbanner
200 Harley Street
200 Harley Street

Полная версия

200 Harley Street

Язык: Английский
Добавлена:
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
На страницу:
19 из 22

There was a little pause then Ethan replied, ‘Making Lizzie happy is exactly what you should do.’

The edge of the cups had heated up and Lexi shifted her fingers to try and avoid being burnt. Maybe it was safe to go in now? She stepped closer to the door.

‘So—I wanted to ask you a question.’ Her foot stopped mid-air. Maybe not.

‘What is it?’

She was close enough now to see both men. Ethan was leaning heavily on the table—still not using the walking stick that he should. Leo was sitting opposite him, his hand pulling at the edge of his ear. The way he did when he was uncomfortable.

‘I wanted to ask you to be my best man.’ The words came out in a rush.

There was a pause. A heavy silence in the air.

Just say yes, Lexi willed Ethan. She shifted her fingers on the cups again. Say yes before I burn myself.

‘I don’t think so, Leo.’ Ethan’s voice was low, so low Lexi couldn’t believe he’d just said those words. She must have misheard.

‘Why not?’ She cringed. She could hear the tension in Leo’s voice, no matter how he tried to hide it.

‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Ask Declan or Edward—you’ve known them for a long time. They’d do a better job than me.’

Lexi could almost hear the long intake of breath from Leo. She could only imagine how hurt he felt right now. Even if he wasn’t showing it.

From this angle she could see him paste a smile on his face. ‘You never were very good at speeches, were you, Ethan?’

‘Rubbish. Whether you wrote them for me or not.’

It was an easy let-off. Even though he was obviously hurt, Leo had decided not to enter into a spat with his brother. His voice went a little lower. ‘I just thought I should ask you first. You were the one to tell me to get my act together and sort out things with Lizzie.’

‘That’s because I’m the smart one in this family—and don’t you forget it.’

Ethan had turned and headed towards the door. The conversation was clearly over.

‘Sorry, Lexi, didn’t see you there.’

She pasted a fake smile on her face. ‘You’d better not have eaten my doughnut, Ethan Hunter. You could be in big trouble.’

He winked. ‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’

Lexi walked into the room and put the cups on the table. ‘Sorry I took so long, Leo.’ She didn’t want to let on that she’d heard any of the previous conversation. It seemed wrong to hear private business between the brothers. It made her uncomfortable.

Leo grabbed a cup and took a drink, pushing the plate with the doughnuts on it towards her. ‘Go on, dive in.’ He looked down at the papers spread in front of him and gave a sad kind of smile. ‘The income of the clinic has skyrocketed since you got here, Lexi. We’re going to be able to support Olivia Fairchild’s charity much more than I originally thought. I want you to know you are worth your weight in gold.’

Lexi bit into the doughnut, blowing her calorie count for the whole day. It was as if the whole conversation before hadn’t happened. However hurt Leo must currently be feeling, he wasn’t showing it.

But Leo was good at that. He’d switched from personal to professional mode in an instant.

It was up to her to do the same. No matter how hard she found it.

She pulled out the spreadsheet she was looking for. ‘I’m glad you’re happy, Leo. There’s just a couple of other things we have to discuss.’ She laid them out on the table and opened a laptop, which had Iain’s interview loaded and ready to be released.

Leo’s eyes focused on the first shot. Iain in his dark suit, white shirt and red tie, standing in front of the Hunter Clinic sign with his arms folded across his chest. He let out a laugh. ‘Lexi Robbins. How did you manage to get that shot?’

She raised her eyebrows and tapped her nose. ‘I have my ways. But I’ll never tell.’

Leo leaned back in his chair as he watched, shaking his head in wonder as the video finished. ‘Wow, Lexi. You’ve done a fantastic job.’ He glanced outside. ‘I’d better hire a new receptionist. Our phones are going to ring off the hook.’

She nodded. ‘I think you’d better.’

‘It goes out tonight?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does Iain know? He’s very private. I’m surprised he agreed to shoot it.’

She gathered up her papers, a knowing smile on her face. ‘Let me handle Iain. I am the PR person after all.’

Leo nodded and gave her an appreciative smile. ‘You certainly are.’

Iain was deep in surgery. He was grafting skin taken from the thigh onto a patient’s cheek. His registrar was driving him crazy with all the questions she was asking.

‘But why did you select the thigh area?’

He took a deep breath under his mask. ‘We looked at the other traditional areas. The skin on her arms was too freckly, the skin on her buttocks wasn’t suitable to transfer to her face. The skin on her thigh was the best option.’

The registrar let out a little sigh. ‘It just seems so odd. Most people are more conscious about skin cancers these days—particularly on the face. Why didn’t she see about it sooner?’

‘And why didn’t you read the case notes?’ Iain snapped.

There was silence in the theatre. He could sense the rest of the staff cringing but he was tired of this lazy registrar with her enquiring mind. She asked thousands of questions without once looking for the answers herself.

And what’s worse was that this patient had seen her doctor. She’d seen several doctors, several times, none of whom had referred her to get a biopsy until it was too late. Her cancer could still be treated, but if she’d been referred the first time she’d worried about the pale brown mark on her face, the surgery she would have needed would have been minimal. A tiny scar. Rather than extensive surgery into the surrounding tissues that required a skin graft. And if the registrar had bothered to do her job she would have known all that.

He gritted his teeth. He was getting to the most important part. He’d just separated the epidermis and part of the dermis layer ready to transfer to the face. His first surgical steps had been to remove the cancer thoroughly, ensuring margins wide enough to capture all the cells but small enough to allow the best outcome for the patient. Stitching the graft into place required steady hands, tiny stitches and intense concentration.

Concentration had never been a problem for Iain before. But then again he’d never been in a relationship with Lexi Robbins before.

And something was bothering him. Even though he’d almost been upfront and honest with her, something wasn’t right with Lexi.

She was busy doing her job and flying around the world, drumming up publicity for the clinic and the charities. He’d taken her back to Frank’s twice and she’d enjoyed it just as much as the first time.

But something was still wrong. He could sense it. He could feel it.

But it had been so long since he’d felt something, he couldn’t rely on his instincts.

It didn’t matter that he did his best to try and build Lexi’s confidence. It didn’t matter that she seemed happy at work and happy in his company. There was still just something.

And he didn’t know what.

But what made matters worse was that he had no idea why this bothered him so much. Lexi was getting under his skin. He’d told her right from the start that he didn’t think he had anything to offer her. But even as he’d said the words he’d felt conflicted. He’d wanted to give her an out. A way to walk away with no commitment. But he wasn’t that type of guy. And Lexi wasn’t that type of woman.

He snapped his attention back to his work. What was wrong with him? He never lost focus.

Twittering. The registrar was twittering in his ear again. He honestly couldn’t stand it.

He turned to face her. ‘What is it exactly that you don’t understand now? Because right now I’m busy. Right now I’m trying my hardest to make sure I line up the skin edges perfectly to give the best possible outcome for this patient. If I make a mess of this, she’ll be left with permanent scarring on her face. If I do it well, after a few months the scars will fade and although they won’t be invisible they won’t be very noticeable to the average person. So what do you suggest I do? Should I allow myself to be distracted by you? To answer every question that you should have researched before you set foot in my theatre? Or should I just ignore you and get on with the job?’

Even beneath the mask he could see her mouth was hanging open. He waited for a noise, a loud clearing of the throat from the anaesthetist or the theatre sister. That was the general sign from them that it was time for him to wind it back in.

But no. There was nothing. They were obviously as fed up with the registrar as he was. She started to speak—to splutter behind her mask. ‘But I’m here to—’

‘No.’ Iain held up the needle and suture that was in his hand. He shook his head. ‘Just no.’ He pointed towards the door and after a few seconds she stormed out in a huff.

There was nothing ominous about the silence that fell in the theatre. He could almost hear the collective sigh of relief.

Most of the time he was criticised for his directness. Today wasn’t going to be one of those days.

He gave a smile as he looked over at the theatre sister. ‘Now, where were we?’

She gave an almost approving nod. ‘We were about to make Mrs Abbott look beautiful again, Iain. So let’s get on with it.’

With the theatre quiet, he finished within an hour. He nodded at the theatre sister. ‘The notes I write will be pretty extensive. I want to take these stitches out myself. I also want the dressing left in place until tomorrow and I want to be there when it comes off. I think Mrs Abbott will be a bit shocked and I want a bit of time to reassure her.’

‘No problem, Iain. I’ll pass that on to the ward staff. What’s wrong with you these days?’ She gave him a teasing smile. ‘I thought you were returning to form earlier, but it seems someone has affected your bedside manner.’ She was in her late fifties and had worked with Iain for the past two years. She was one of the few who could get away with saying that.

He peeled off his mask, gown and gloves, ignoring her last statement. ‘I’m also going to write up some notes about moisturiser and massage for Mrs Abbott’s post-op recovery treatment. Can you give me five minutes?’

But the theatre sister wasn’t finished with Iain. She brushed past him, peeling off her own mask with a big smile on her face. ‘So, are you going to tell me her name?’

On one hand he was amused, but this kind of light-hearted banter wasn’t normal for Iain in Theatre. He knew that they called him the grizzly bear behind his back.

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’ He smiled. Then leaned over as he started to rescrub his hands. ‘And if I catch you speculating about me you’ll get a whiff of anaesthetic gas,’ he added wickedly.

‘I think after all these years I’m probably immune. But do your worst, Iain. I’ll find out.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘I always do.’

Iain finished washing and walked through to the changing rooms, dumping his scrubs and pulling his suit out of the locker. He was due back at Harley Street within an hour.

Was he really worried about anyone finding out about him and Lexi?

He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a position he’d been in before. And he hadn’t even discussed it with Lexi. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about other people knowing about their relationship. It wouldn’t make much difference to the staff at Kate’s—most of them didn’t know Lexi well. But the staff at the Hunter Clinic? That could be different. He would have to talk to her about it.

His pager went off as he fastened his tie. He frowned as he glanced at the number. His secretary rarely paged him unless it was an emergency. Carol Kennedy, the television presenter he’d performed surgery on a few weeks ago. Everything had been going so well. Lexi had even interviewed her again as she’d recovered. Carol wanted to use the film to show people what she’d been through and that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Iain headed over to the nearest phone. If something was wrong with Carol he wanted to deal with it straight away. He never left his patients waiting. Never.

CHAPTER TEN

LEXI LOOKED AT her phone for the third time. Need to talk to you later.

What did that mean? Her stomach had been churning ever since Iain had sent the message late that afternoon. She’d tried to call him back but he hadn’t been answering his phone and his grim secretary had only told her that there was an emergency with a patient.

It was after eight now. Surely he would be home by now? She rang the doorbell and let her stomach do some flip-flops while she waited for an answer.

Iain answered the door. He hadn’t had time to change out of his suit. He looked tired, but smiled when he saw her.

‘Hey, Lexi, I was just about to call you.’ She felt a little surge of relief. ‘What happened?’ He held open the door and gestured for her to come inside.

Lexi stepped into his house. ‘Is it someone I know?’

He nodded. ‘It’s Carol Kennedy. She had some haemorrhaging. I had to take her back to Theatre.’

‘Oh, no. What happened?’ She walked through to the kitchen and started emptying the bag on the kitchen table.

Iain gave a rueful smile as he picked up the crusty loaf she’d just unpacked. ‘One of these. Or something similar.’ He shook his head. ‘She’d been warned about what to eat but thought she was doing better and could manage something she enjoyed. Unfortunately her throat wasn’t completely healed.’

Lexi stared at the bread in his hand. ‘Wow. I never knew a crusty loaf could cause damage to a throat.’

‘Not normally. But after delicate throat surgery you have to be careful what you eat.’ He picked up the cheese, pickle and cold ham she’d set on the table. ‘Are we having a picnic tonight?’

Lexi smiled. ‘I can’t really cook. I try—but there’s a real danger of food poisoning. So I decided not to even try.’ She held up her hands. ‘I don’t want you to start getting false expectations about me.’

He crossed the room and put his hands on her hips. ‘Oh, I’ve no false expectations about you, Lexi. You meet every single one of my expectations.’

‘I do, do I?’ She raised herself up on her toes and wound her hands around his neck. There it was. The picture still sitting on the window ledge. How could she have expected anything different? Of course the picture of Bonnie would still be there. There were pictures of her scattered throughout the house.

So why did it make her stomach curl so much? Bonnie wasn’t here any more. And there was no question she had Iain’s undivided attention. So why didn’t it feel as if it was enough?

His hands were working their way around to her stomach. He still hadn’t mentioned her abdominal scar. She’d already told him she’d had surgery as a child, maybe he just didn’t want to pry.

It was still there. It was still eating away at her. The fact that Iain would eventually want a family of his own—one she couldn’t provide. This was a fling. This was a fleeting event. And she had to keep reminding herself about that. Otherwise she could end up being seriously hurt.

Iain was paying particular attention to her neck. And their feet were moving slowly but surely in the direction of the bedroom. She pushed all the other thoughts from her mind. It was time to focus on the here and now because for the next few hours Iain was hers and hers alone.

And that was just the way she liked him.

Iain’s pager sounded first thing in the morning with a shriek that made Lexi sit bolt upright in bed.

Iain’s hand was on the phone in seconds, dialling in the number and listening for a few minutes. It couldn’t be good. The only words he muttered were expletives.

‘What’s wrong?’

He shook his head. ‘Can you spare some time today?’

She wrinkled her brow, trying not to think about the appointments she had, the calls to return and the final edits she had to do. ‘I can try. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Carol Kennedy.’

‘Did she have a bad night? Does she have post-op complications?’

Iain blew out a stream of air. ‘Of the worst kind. Someone has blabbed to the media. One of the tabloids has been on the phone to Kate’s, wanting a statement.’

Lexi cringed. ‘Oh, no. Carol wanted the time to break the story herself. I’ve nearly finished editing the interview we did together. It’s great. She comes across exactly as she is in real life, a woman with compassion and concern.’

‘Well, by tomorrow she will be headline news on every front page.’

‘Poor Carol. That’s exactly what she didn’t want.’ Lexi put her head into her hands. ‘I wonder …’

‘Wonder what?’

Lexi stood up and walked around the bed. ‘I hate to ask my parents for anything but if I could speak to my father, he has a show lined up for tonight. I could speak to him about screening Carol’s interview.’ She couldn’t stop pacing. ‘My father is quite mercenary. The thought of breaking the story would probably appeal to him.’

Iain nodded. Normally he would have hated anything like this but Carol had made her wishes clear. She wanted to break things on her terms. ‘Can you talk to Carol this morning? Ask her how she wants to handle things?’

Lexi nodded. ‘I take it you’re happy with her recovery?’

He was picking up his clothes, pulling on his trousers. ‘I’ll come with you.’ He paused from fastening his trousers. ‘You can come this morning, can’t you?’

Lexi nodded. She was Head of PR at the Hunter Clinic and this could rapidly turn into a PR nightmare. Everything else would have to wait. Including another viewing of the perfect interview with Iain. She’d watched it constantly since they’d filmed it. He was perfect. Just like a film star. And as soon as he opened his mouth and that Scottish accent came out—along with the slightly shaggy hair, good looks and toned body—he was going to be a sensation. The commercial had been let loose on the media last night. Neither of them had had time to think about it then—other priorities had taken over. She reached over and grabbed her phone. Dead as a doornail.

Iain was tucking his shirt in. ‘What’s wrong?’

She waved the phone at him. ‘Out of charge.’

He pointed to the nearby table. ‘Mine’s plugged in over there—use it.’

She moved across the room and plugged in her phone. It vibrated instantly and she felt as if her eyes were bugging out her skull. Four hundred emails. Sixty messages. One hundred and thirty-two texts. Was somebody dead?

Then a smile crept across her face as she opened the first email. Just as she’d predicted. The world at large loved Iain McKenzie. He was going to be the latest internet sensation. She could see him in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Better not tell him now. He’d probably freak. She could save it till later.

She sat on the edge of the bed and dialled her father’s number, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. ‘Hi, Dad, it’s Lexi. I’ve got a bit of news for you—and an exclusive interview. Can you give me a call back?’

She put on her clothes and washed her face, pulling her hair back in a clip. Ready in less than five minutes.

Iain smiled. ‘Let’s go and see what we can do to help Carol.’

Six hours later Lexi hadn’t stopped. And she’d had no chance whatsoever to respond to all the emails, messages and texts. Carol was making a good recovery following her op the day before and had given approval for her interview to be used on Lexi’s father’s show that night. She’d also recorded a new segment saying how she wanted to raise awareness of the type of cancer she had, and to say that her hand had been forced by the media to reveal her diagnosis before she’d wished to. It was skilfully done. Lexi’s father had jumped all over the story, delighted to have the breaking news.

But even though she’d essentially done him a favour, he’d hardly even acknowledged the part that Lexi had played. It was nothing new to her. The thing that astonished her was that she still felt a tiny modicum of hurt about her father’s actions. Or lack of them. Still, she had enough on her plate right now.

As for Iain McKenzie—internet sensation—she was so glad the interview had gone out the day before. If the Hunter Clinic was going to hit the news it was better to do it on her own terms. In a matter of minutes the footage of the hunky Scotsman had gone viral—just like she’d suspected it would. The phones at the clinic were currently ringing off the hook.

It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who found Iain attractive. The rest of the female population were inclined the same way.

Needless to say, Iain hadn’t been impressed. When they got back to the Hunter Clinic the amount of couriers with deliveries had staggered them all. Agencies looking to represent him had sent champagne and designer suits. Department stores wanting to use him for their advertising campaigns had sent their entire men’s ranges. Aftershaves, flowers, bottles of whisky, ties, shirts and mountains of underwear were all waiting for him in his over-stuffed office.

Iain looked as if he might explode, but Lexi smiled. This was exactly what she’d expected. Fabulous publicity for the clinic and its attached charities.

And as a plus point the bookings had soared.

Now, if only she could get him into a kilt …

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE SILVER ENVELOPE was lying on her desk, the courier logo across the top. She picked it up and stared at it. Who on earth was this from?

‘When did this arrive?’ She walked out of her office towards Rose, one of the secretaries.

Rose looked up and gave her a wary smile. ‘About an hour ago. I signed for it. Is something wrong?’

Lexi shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’ She tore open the envelope and pulled the thick invitation out, letting out a little yelp when she realised what it was.

‘Me? Me?’ She couldn’t believe it.

Rose jumped to her feet. ‘Lexi? Lexi? Is something wrong?’

‘What? Oh, no. Everything is wonderful!’ She gave a little spin, waving the invitation above her head. ‘I’ve been nominated for a PR award; one of the biggest awards in PR!’ She let out an excited squeal, ‘I can’t believe it. I’ve dreamed about this since I was at university. Every year we used to study the people who’d been nominated. I can’t believe I’m one of them.’

The secretary gave a smile. ‘Well, congratulations. That’s fabulous news. For you, and for the clinic. Do you want me to let Leo know? He’ll be thrilled for you.’

‘What? Oh, yes. Thanks very much.’ She kept the invitation close to her chest lest someone try to snatch it away from her. It was hers. It was really hers.

She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. It felt too good.

Finally, recognition for the job that she loved. Recognition that someone, somewhere thought she was doing a good job. There were hundreds of nominations for the PR award every year, only a few making it to the final cut. A panel had studied her work closely after the nomination. Thank goodness she hadn’t known about that beforehand, it would have made her break out in a cold sweat.

She walked down the corridor, heading towards Iain’s office. He was the first person she wanted to tell. Was that weird? The other people she really wanted to know were her parents. But she didn’t want to have to tell them herself. She didn’t want to give them the ability to shrug off her news as if it was meaningless.

If she kept quiet long enough, the press would eventually break the story. Maybe her parents would pay more attention then? Was it wrong to know that her parents would be more likely to celebrate her success if it brought them good promo?

She shook the thought from her head.

‘What are you looking so happy about?’ Iain had crept up behind her, placed his hands on her hips and was escorting her into his office, shutting the door with his foot.

На страницу:
19 из 22