200 Harley Street. Lynne Marshall

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