200 Harley Street. Lynne Marshall

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