pasted a fake smile on her face. ‘You’d better not have eaten my doughnut, Ethan Hunter. You could be in big trouble.’
He winked. ‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’
Lexi walked into the room and put the cups on the table. ‘Sorry I took so long, Leo.’ She didn’t want to let on that she’d heard any of the previous conversation. It seemed wrong to hear private business between the brothers. It made her uncomfortable.
Leo grabbed a cup and took a drink, pushing the plate with the doughnuts on it towards her. ‘Go on, dive in.’ He looked down at the papers spread in front of him and gave a sad kind of smile. ‘The income of the clinic has skyrocketed since you got here, Lexi. We’re going to be able to support Olivia Fairchild’s charity much more than I originally thought. I want you to know you are worth your weight in gold.’
Lexi bit into the doughnut, blowing her calorie count for the whole day. It was as if the whole conversation before hadn’t happened. However hurt Leo must currently be feeling, he wasn’t showing it.
But Leo was good at that. He’d switched from personal to professional mode in an instant.
It was up to her to do the same. No matter how hard she found it.
She pulled out the spreadsheet she was looking for. ‘I’m glad you’re happy, Leo. There’s just a couple of other things we have to discuss.’ She laid them out on the table and opened a laptop, which had Iain’s interview loaded and ready to be released.
Leo’s eyes focused on the first shot. Iain in his dark suit, white shirt and red tie, standing in front of the Hunter Clinic sign with his arms folded across his chest. He let out a laugh. ‘Lexi Robbins. How did you manage to get that shot?’
She raised her eyebrows and tapped her nose. ‘I have my ways. But I’ll never tell.’
Leo leaned back in his chair as he watched, shaking his head in wonder as the video finished. ‘Wow, Lexi. You’ve done a fantastic job.’ He glanced outside. ‘I’d better hire a new receptionist. Our phones are going to ring off the hook.’
She nodded. ‘I think you’d better.’
‘It goes out tonight?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does Iain know? He’s very private. I’m surprised he agreed to shoot it.’
She gathered up her papers, a knowing smile on her face. ‘Let me handle Iain. I am the PR person after all.’
Leo nodded and gave her an appreciative smile. ‘You certainly are.’
Iain was deep in surgery. He was grafting skin taken from the thigh onto a patient’s cheek. His registrar was driving him crazy with all the questions she was asking.
‘But why did you select the thigh area?’
He took a deep breath under his mask. ‘We looked at the other traditional areas. The skin on her arms was too freckly, the skin on her buttocks wasn’t suitable to transfer to her face. The skin on her thigh was the best option.’
The registrar let out a little sigh. ‘It just seems so odd. Most people are more conscious about skin cancers these days—particularly on the face. Why didn’t she see about it sooner?’
‘And why didn’t you read the case notes?’ Iain snapped.
There was silence in the theatre. He could sense the rest of the staff cringing but he was tired of this lazy registrar with her enquiring mind. She asked thousands of questions without once looking for the answers herself.
And what’s worse was that this patient had seen her doctor. She’d seen several doctors, several times, none of whom had referred her to get a biopsy until it was too late. Her cancer could still be treated, but if she’d been referred the first time she’d worried about the pale brown mark on her face, the surgery she would have needed would have been minimal. A tiny scar. Rather than extensive surgery into the surrounding tissues that required a skin graft. And if the registrar had bothered to do her job she would have known all that.
He gritted his teeth. He was getting to the most important part. He’d just separated the epidermis and part of the dermis layer ready to transfer to the face. His first surgical steps had been to remove the cancer thoroughly, ensuring margins wide enough to capture all the cells but small enough to allow the best outcome for the patient. Stitching the graft into place required steady hands, tiny stitches and intense concentration.
Concentration had never been a problem for Iain before. But then again he’d never been in a relationship with Lexi Robbins before.
And something was bothering him. Even though he’d almost been upfront and honest with her, something wasn’t right with Lexi.
She was busy doing her job and flying around the world, drumming up publicity for the clinic and the charities. He’d taken her back to Frank’s twice and she’d enjoyed it just as much as the first time.
But something was still wrong. He could sense it. He could feel it.
But it had been so long since he’d felt something, he couldn’t rely on his instincts.
It didn’t matter that he did his best to try and build Lexi’s confidence. It didn’t matter that she seemed happy at work and happy in his company. There was still 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
