200 Harley Street. Lynne Marshall

fine, but it was terribly hard at times.

      The chocolates for the patients were delivered on Wednesday, the scent of them driving her crazy, and, of course, Leo had to catch her when she caved in.

      ‘What’s behind your hand?’ Leo asked as he knocked and without waiting walked into her office.

      ‘Nothing!’ But it didn’t come out very well with a mouth that was full.

      Leo actually had to stop himself from going over and having a little wrestle to get to the chocolates or prising her mouth open with his tongue to get a taste.

      Instead, he remembered what he had come in for. ‘I need a new prescription pad.’

      Not even chocolate on her tongue could disguise the bitter taste as she went and replaced the pad she’d outlived only marginally.

      Ethan had almost been right.

      Valentine’s Day dawned and Lizzie had to get there early and watch as the florist and her assistant carried bucket after bucket of red roses through the clinic.

      It hurt.

      She just couldn’t let it show.

      Though Leo made her laugh when he saw all the roses. ‘God, I hope no one’s got hay fever.’

      ‘You’d better check the expiry date on the adrenaline shots,’ Declan said, and then asked Lizzie what she was up to for Valentine’s Day.

      ‘I’m visiting my mum,’ Lizzie said. ‘So it’s not exactly a romantic one for me.’

      ‘Oh, well, you can always do Valentine’s tomorrow,’ Declan said. ‘Free and single in London is a very nice place to be.’

      ‘It is.’ Lizzie smiled and Leo felt his back straighten a touch. She was trying to make him jealous was his first thought, but, then, Lizzie didn’t have to try, he already was.

      ‘You’re staying the weekend in Brighton?’ Leo asked.

      ‘Nope.’ Lizzie kept that smile on. ‘Just tonight. I’ve been a bit absent of late with my friends …’

      Leo loathed the thought of Lizzie let loose in London and paced his office floor, stopping as she popped her head in to say goodbye before leaving early for the weekend.

      ‘You’ve got Francesca at two,’ Lizzie reminded him. ‘Have a great weekend.’

      ‘Don’t forget your flowers,’ Leo said, because he’d made sure there was a bouquet for each of the women who worked at the clinic, but, realising it might be a bit insensitive, he added, ‘You could take them for your mum.’

      He stood there, rigid, as Lizzie just laughed and because it was Friday she let rip just a little some of the hurt she was holding onto, just enough to confuse him.

      ‘If you weren’t such a good boss, Leo, I’d tell you where you could shove your flowers. Happy Valentine’s Day!’

      Wry was the smile on his face when he watched from the window as Lizzie walked down the steps and into the street.

      No, she hadn’t taken her flowers but, of course, she’d taken the chocolate! He was so busy watching her that he didn’t even notice, till he heard a voice, that Ethan had come in and was standing behind him.

      ‘Lizzie,’ Ethan said, ‘would be the best thing that ever happened to you.’

      ‘I thought you wanted me away from her.’

      ‘It’s way too late for that, but if you do love her …’

      ‘What do you know about love?’ Leo quipped. Ethan had so easily admitted to Leo that time that he’d only been using Olivia. Ethan’s heart was pretty much closed.

      ‘Oh, I know …’

      Something in Ethan’s voice was enough to tear Leo’s gaze from the spectacular sight of Lizzie’s rear end and turn round. ‘Ethan?’

      ‘Leave it,’ Ethan said.

      Which meant leave it.

      It really did.

      Francesca had all her sparkle back.

      ‘Leo!’ she greeted him warmly. ‘Where’s Lizzie?’

      ‘Lizzie’s got the afternoon off.’ Leo had to stop himself from snapping out his reply.

      ‘Getting herself ready for Valentine’s night?’ Francesca asked. ‘I hope you are taking her somewhere nice.’

      ‘Francesca, the ball we attended together was a work function.’

      ‘Please!’ Francesca rolled her eyes but he moved the conversation on. ‘What can I do for you, Francesca? And please tell me it doesn’t involve surgery.’

      Francesca gave a little shiver. ‘It’s cold.’

      ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ Leo corrected her, but headed over to the brandy and poured her one.

      ‘Of course I don’t want surgery,’ Francesca said, ‘but I was reading in my magazine abut cosmetic tattooing. My hands are a little shaky these days …’

      ‘You could just have one of these before you put your make-up on,’ Leo teased, handing her the brandy.

      ‘It has nothing to do with brandy.’ Francesca laughed. ‘It is age.’

      When it suited her, Leo thought dryly. ‘I don’t do tattooing.’

      ‘I thought not—it’s hardly a tattoo parlour. I just hate Tony seeing me without my eyeliner on,’ she said.

      ‘I can give you a name,’ Leo said. ‘How are you two doing?’

      ‘That’s the real reason I’m here.’ Francesca smiled. ‘We’re getting married, Leo!’

      He was over in an instant. His favourite patient was getting married, this time to a man she loved, and he couldn’t be happier for her.

      ‘I’m thrilled for you.’ He gave her a hug. ‘Hell, you didn’t need to make an appointment to come in and tell me that!’

      ‘I know. It’s just a small wedding,’ Francesca said, and she took out an invitation. ‘I put Leo and Lizzie …’

      ‘Just change it and put Leo plus one.’

      ‘I want Lizzie to come.’

      ‘Well, invite Lizzie, then,’ Leo said, but his collar suddenly felt tight at the thought of Lizzie’s plus one.

      ‘Leo, please listen.’

      ‘Francesca, you are one of my most valued clients but that doesn’t mean—’

      ‘I remember your father, Leo. I remember waiting for the first of many facelifts and him falling down drunk. He was a fool.’

      ‘You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.’

      ‘And I remember your mother.’ Francesca would not stop. ‘Her affairs and her social life and all the things she put before your brother and you.’

      ‘Just leave it.’

      ‘Is that how you want to be?’

      ‘I don’t have affairs.’

      ‘I’m not talking about cheating, I’m talking about family. How old are you, Leo?’

      ‘A lady never asks a gentleman his age …’ Leo smiled but he was smarting a little inside. Thirty-eight and a brilliant career to show for it, but a reputation with women that had had Lizzie running off into the woods, or rather choosing a weekend in a nursing home than being in Paris with him.

      ‘I regret and I regret and I regret,’ Francesca said, ‘because I was too stupidly proud to admit what a fool I’d been and too vain and too young