200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London. Lynne Marshall

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