with patients. Watch you perform surgery. Once I’ve had a chance to get to see the real you, I’ll interview you on camera. It will work better that way, I’ll know you—you’ll know me. The interview will go more smoothly.’
He frowned. ‘That’s a bit more in-depth than I expected. I can’t have you disturbing things with my patients. If they don’t want you around you have to leave.’ His words were absolutely definite.
She nodded quickly. ‘Agreed.’
‘And I’ll need my patients’ consent for you to watch any surgeries.’
‘Will that be difficult?’
He let out a slow stream of air through his lips. ‘Not tomorrow it won’t. I’m performing surgery on Aida Atkins. You know how fame-hungry she is. She’ll be falling all over herself at the mere thought of some publicity for herself.’ He paused. ‘You signed a confidentiality agreement when you started at the clinic?’
She nodded.
‘I think you’ll find with Aida Atkins you may as well throw it out the window.’
Aida Atkins. The latest model-cum-actress-cum-trophy wife. Lexi had seen more of them than she’d eaten home-cooked meals. Hardly difficult.
‘This publicity is really about the clinic, the work you do and the associated charities.’
‘Aida won’t care. If she gets her five minutes of fame she’ll be happy. Her type are all the same.’
‘What does that mean?’ There was a horrible little gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach. She could almost predict what he was about to say.
‘Vain. Pretentious. Fixed ideas about what a perfect body should look like.’
‘If you feel like that, why are you operating on her?’
‘Because it’s what she wants. Because she’s medically and psychologically competent to make a decision about surgery and she’s not an anaesthetic risk. As simple as that.’
Lexi could feel a wave of disappointment sweep over her body. Was that what he thought about all his plastic-surgery clients? That they were all superficial and vain? Was that what he thought about her because she’d had a boob job?
He shook his head as if he realised his words sounded unnecessarily harsh. ‘Wait until tomorrow. You’ll understand then. There’s a reason I’m doing Aida’s surgery instead of a general plastic surgeon.’
Iain put his hand on the door handle. ‘Princess Catherine’s. Seven a.m. tomorrow. And bring something to eat. It will be a long day.’ It took him a few seconds to release his long legs from the foot well. He straightened up and pulled some house keys from his pocket.
She watched as he looked over at the house. There was no look of relief to finally be home. More a look of resignation. He bent back down. ‘Thanks for the lift, Lexi. See you tomorrow.’ Then he slammed the door and trudged up his steps.
Lexi took a deep breath. There was so much more hidden behind the handsome façade of Iain McKenzie. The question was, how much did she want to find out?
THE DARKNESS PERVADED him as soon as he set foot in his house. It was such a shame as it was a beautiful home and, in theory, all his dark memories should have been left behind in Edinburgh.
Coming to London was supposed to be the start of something new for him. He just couldn’t seem to shake off the big black thundercloud of guilt that hung permanently above his head.
He flicked on a light and looked out at the road. Lexi hadn’t pulled away yet. Should he have invited her in? Had he been impolite? It had been so long since he’d done any of the social niceties with women that he’d probably forgotten what most of them were.
He watched as she indicated and pulled out onto the quiet street. It was after midnight. If he’d invited her in it might have been misconstrued as something else entirely. And whether he admitted it or not, he was trying to avoid the woman who was causing uncomfortable flarings in his libido, not invite her into his home.
He paused at the dark polished sideboard, which held a photograph of himself and his wife, Bonnie. They were sitting on the grass in their garden in Edinburgh, her back leaning against him and his arms wrapped around her enlarged abdomen. Bonnie had the most contented look on her face. The look of a woman who had finally got the thing she’d always dreamed of. They both looked like that, but Iain knew the truth behind that photo.
One of his friends had suggested he put that picture away. A friend who’d been close enough to both of them to know what had actually happened.
But Iain couldn’t do that. His guilt didn’t matter. This was still his favourite picture of them both. They looked so relaxed. They looked so happy. As if they had their whole lives ahead of them.
If only he’d known …
His fingers touched the glass in front of the photograph. ‘Three years, Bonnie,’ he whispered. And not a single day had gone by that he hadn’t thought of her.
They’d been childhood sweethearts. Destined to be together for ever. Or so they had thought.
When Leo Hunter had pursued him to work at the Hunter Clinic he’d thought the guy was crazy. His world had just collapsed around him and Leo had wanted him to up sticks and move to another part of the country?
But Leo had understood him better than he’d understood himself. He’d known he would never be able to pull himself up if he stayed in the family home, with the same work colleagues with their averted eyes and sad expressions. The move to London had been exactly what he’d needed at the time. Apart from Leo, no one knew about his wife. He’d skirted around the edges of any potentially difficult conversations, avoiding any personal details.
London was easy to lose yourself in. And the clientele coming to and from the Hunter Clinic had more to worry about than the personal background of their surgeon. And it was better that way. It really was.
Iain walked into his vast kitchen and pulled a glass from the cupboard, pressing it against the dispenser on his stainless-steel fridge. A beautiful kitchen that he hardly used. Just like the rest of this house.
He climbed the staircase to his bedroom, peeled off his jacket, trousers, shirt and tie, not bothering to hang them up. He’d have to be up in a few hours to get to Princess Catherine’s for surgery and he had a whole rail of identical business suits in the cupboard.
He sank into the bed with white Egyptian cotton sheets. Praying that tonight—even for a few hours—he might get a few hours’ precious sleep.
But it wasn’t to be.
It seemed that it wasn’t only the scent of Lexi Robbins that had pervaded his memory. He sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring from his body.
This was why he’d purposefully been avoiding Lexi Robbins.
He’d known it. Right from the first time he’d
