The doctor she can’t forget
Two years ago, socialite Scarlet Portland spent one wild night with ER doc Luke Edwards. She hasn’t forgotten their sizzling heat—it’s branded on her mind forever—nor that night’s devastating emotional repercussions…
Now Scarlet’s back in London and back in Luke’s life. All she wants is one more chance—to see if the happiness she’s only ever felt in his arms was real. But though their chemistry burns hot as ever, will he want her when he discovers the truth?
Scarlet felt the heat of his palms caress her cheeks and then his mouth was soft on hers, and he kissed her. Oh, how their mouths needed each other... It was a soft morning kiss, and because of it, Scarlet knew, she would float better through the day.
She kissed him back, feeling again the lips she missed, and so gentle and unexpected was he that Scarlet felt tears sting her eyes.
But it was just a kiss, and neither pushed for more.
“Look at me,” Luke said, still holding her face, yet she would not meet his eyes.
“I can’t.”
“You can...”
But she couldn’t. Not after what had happened.
Dear Reader,
Luke and Scarlet surprised me all the time as I wrote their story.
Sometimes I wondered how they would get to their happy ending. This couple had so much to work through, and yet every time I doubted they could, Luke stepped in and reassured me that he knew where they were headed.
I love a hero who is one step ahead—not just of the heroine but also the author!—and Luke has the calm assuredness that I felt Scarlet needed. I do believe in love at first sight, and their story confirmed that for me.
Happy reading!
x
THE SOCIALITE’S SECRET
Carol Marinelli
Books by Carol Marinelli
Harlequin Medical Romance
London’s Most Desirable Docs
Unwrapping Her Italian Doc
Playing the Playboy’s Sweetheart
Bayside Hospital Heartbreakers!
Tempted by Dr. Morales
The Accidental Romeo
Secrets of a Career Girl
Dr. Dark and Far Too Delicious
NYC Angels: Redeeming the Playboy
200 Harley Street: Surgeon in a Tux
Baby Twins to Bind Them
Just One Night?
The Baby of Their Dreams
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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Praise for Carol Marinelli
“A well written, enjoyable medical romance. With lovable characters and an interesting plot line, this book makes me even more excited for the upcoming books in 200 Harley Street.”
—HarlequinJunkie on 200 Harley Street: Surgeon in a Tux
“A compelling, sensual, sexy, emotionally packed, drama-filled read that will leave you begging for more!”
—Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC Angels: Redeeming the Playboy
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
NO NEWS WASN’T always good news.
It was just the tiniest of diversions from Luke Edwards’s usual morning routine but, having poured a glass of grapefruit juice, Luke turned the television on and listened to the news as he got ready for work.
It was just after 5:00 a.m. on Monday.
There was the usual stuff that should make mankind weep, yet it was immediately followed by the news that Anya’s Saturday night performance at the O2, the last in her sell-out world tour, had been amazing and she would be heading back to the States today. The reporter moved to the next piece of celebrity gossip—a football star’s wife who was rumoured to have had buttock implants.
He changed channels and found that it was just more of the same.
Luke flicked the television off and, though he still had half an hour to kill, he was restless so he decided to head into work. He went upstairs and selected a tie, which he put in his jacket pocket. As he came back down he grabbed his keys and glanced in the mirror, wondering if he really ought to shave.
No.
His straight dark hair needed a cut too but that could wait for next week.
It was still dark outside as his garage door opened and Luke headed out into a cold and wet November morning. He drove through the practically deserted, sleepy, leafy village, where he lived, towards the heart of London. He had recently been promoted to Consultant in a busy accident and emergency department at a major teaching hospital.
People sometimes said that he was crazy to live so far out but he also had a flat at the hospital for the times when he was on call or held back at work.
Luke liked it that where he lived was between Oxford, where his family were, and London, where he worked. The very distinct separation between his work and home life suited him well. The village was friendly but not overly so. He had been living there for close to a year now and was getting to know the locals at his own pace. Luke knew that, despite what others might think, he had made the right choice.
Or not.
It all depended on today.
It was a long, slow drive but he was more than used to it. Often he listened to music or a lecture he had heard about, but this morning he turned on the radio.
He needed to know if there was any news.
For the last four days Luke had been on edge and hypervigilant while doing all he could not to show it.
The traffic was terrible, he was told.
Thanks for that, Luke thought as he glanced at the time.
There was a huge snarl-up on the M25.
Luke was in the middle of it.
Finally, just before 7:00 a.m., the sun was coming up, the hospital was in sight and a new day had dawned.
He drove towards the underground car park, where he had a spot reserved, and was just about to flick off the radio, as reception was disappearing, when there was a break in a song.
‘Unconfirmed reports are starting to come in that Anya...’ the newsreader said, and Luke sat, blocking the traffic and listening to the brief report, before he drove into the basement. He parked but, instead of heading straight into work, Luke sat for an essential moment to collect himself.
His instincts had been right.
Today was the day, just not for the reasons he’d hoped.
Luke got out of the car and went up the elevator and made his way through the hospital.
Security guards were starting to race towards the accident and emergency entrance but Luke refused to rush. The only concession that his skills might be immediately required was that, as he walked along the corridor, he put on his tie.
‘Morning,’ Luke said to Geoff, one of the security guards, as he raced past him.
Not ‘good morning’.
They weren’t any more.
‘Have you heard who’s coming in?’ Geoff answered by way of response, though he did slow down and fall into step with Luke.
&nbs
p; ‘I have.’ Luke nodded. ‘It just came on the news. Can you call for backup and start setting up the security screens? How long until she gets here?’
‘Ten minutes.’
Luke nodded his thanks and walked into the department.
‘Thank God you’re here early.’ Paul, his registrar, came straight over.
Yes, Paul was very glad that his boss was here. Luke Edwards epitomised the calm that the department would be needing today—Luke never got ruffled and simply dealt with what was. ‘Anya is on her way in,’ Paul explained. ‘She’s in full cardiac arrest. The place is going to blow.’
Luke disagreed with Paul’s assessment. Yes, drama was about to hit but the place would not blow.
Not while he was in charge.
‘What do we know?’ Luke asked as they walked into the resuscitation area where the nursing staff were already setting up.
‘Just what I told you,’ Paul answered.
‘Have you called for an anaesthetist?’
‘The first on call is in Theatre. The second on is David. He’s coming just as soon as he can but he’s with a sick child on PICU,’ Paul answered, as Luke started checking and labelling the drugs that Barbara, a very experienced senior nurse, was pulling up. ‘I was about to see if Switch could do a ring around...’
‘It’s fine.’ Luke shook his head before Paul could suggest otherwise. ‘We’ll more than manage until David gets here.’
‘Do you even know who Anya is?’ Paul checked, because Luke looked completely unruffled by the news of who was on their way into the department and the fact that the anaesthetist wasn’t there.
‘Yes.’
Oh, Luke knew.
Better than most.
Anya had been famous for forty of her fifty years of life and would, after today, be even more so.
Especially if she died.
‘You’d better let the director of nursing know,’ Luke said.
Paul gave a worried nod. ‘I already have.’
‘Good. I’ll go and make sure the screens are up outside.’ As he went to go out, Heather, the director of nursing, was running down the corridor towards him.
‘Do we know what she’s taken?’ was the first thing that Heather asked when she caught up with Luke.
‘We don’t know that she’s taken anything.’ Luke’s response was tart and Heather flushed as Luke continued to speak. ‘Let’s just make sure that the screens are up and no cameras can get a shot of her.’
The media were already starting to gather. He could hear the sound of a helicopter hovering overhead but thankfully the ambulance bay was covered.
Right now it was about affording Anya some privacy.
Whether she would want it or not.
Paul came outside and briefed them further. ‘Ambulance Control has just called. It’s an unspecified drug overdose...’
‘Well, that was never going to happen.’ Heather’s response was sarcastic.
‘If you want to help—’ Luke had heard enough innuendo and the patient hadn’t even arrived. He turned and faced Heather and made his feelings on the subject very clear. ‘—then cast judgement aside. If you can’t manage that—leave.’
He meant it.
Luke had long ago learnt not to judge and to keep his own feelings very much in check, and it would take everything he had in him to maintain that today.
‘I was just—’ Heather attempted.
‘Well, please don’t,’ Luke interrupted.
Heather looked over at Paul and they shared a glance. Luke had worked at the Royal for just over two years now. He was never the sunniest of people but he rarely snapped and his mood seemed particularly dark today.
The ambulance arrived and as Luke opened the doors he saw that Anya was being given cardiac massage by a paramedic and that a sun-tanned man was shouting orders in a strong Californian accent. He informed Luke, only when asked, that his name was Vince and that he was Anya’s private physician.
Luke already knew.
And he hated that man more than anyone could possibly imagine.
‘What’s the story?’ Luke asked him, as the paramedics worked skilfully on the unconscious woman while they wheeled her in and Luke pulled on a gown and gloves.
‘She must have taken some sleeping tablets,’ Vince said.
It was a vague response but, with time of the essence, for now Luke ignored him. Instead, he listened to Albert, one of the paramedics, who relayed far more information than the private physician seemed willing to give.
‘She was found unconscious by her daughter at six a.m.,’ Albert said, as they moved Anya over to the resuscitation bed.
‘Semiconscious,’ Vince corrected.
‘The daughter, Scarlet, is hysterical,’ Albert said. ‘It was hard to get any information out of her. Apparently Anya was given an opiate reversal but then vomited and went into respiratory and then cardiac arrest.’
‘What has she taken?’ Luke asked Vince, but any clear information remained unforthcoming.
‘We’re not sure.’
Albert gave Luke a wide-eyed look, which he took as meaning that the paramedics had had as much trouble extracting details.
Paul took over the cardiac massage as Albert relayed the rest of what he knew. ‘There were no bottles or syringes and she had been intubated before we arrived.’
Oh, so they’d had a little tidy up, Luke thought, and he looked over to Vince as he listened to Anya’s chest. ‘What medication is she on?’ Luke asked.
Vince gave Luke a short list that consisted of antianxiety medications and some light sleeping tablets.
‘So why are there no bottles or packets to be found?’ Luke pushed.
‘I give Anya her medication,’ Vince answered coolly. ‘I also have her on a strict regime of nutrients...’
‘We’ll get to them later,’ Luke snapped, as he started delivering vital drugs that might reverse anything Anya could have taken. ‘Any opiates?’
‘Only when her back injury is exacerbated.’
It would take pliers to extract any useful information from him, Luke was sure. ‘Get a toxicology screen,’ Luke said to Barbara, who was pulling blood as he listened to Anya’s chest.
‘Her chest sounds terrible.’ Luke was very concerned that the tube might be somewhat blocked. ‘I want to replace the tube.’ He wasn’t happy that the right size had been inserted or that, given Anya had vomited, the tube was clear, so he decided to reintubate her.
‘Watch the vocal cords!’ Vince warned.
The billion-dollar vocal cords!
Luke did not look up but Heather swallowed as she watched Luke’s jaw clamp down as he was delivered an unnecessary order.
Luke did not pause in his treatment plan, he just carried on with the procedure and then secured the tube, but he offered two words in response to a very unwelcome guest in his resuscitation room.
‘Get out.’
The celebrity physician did not.
Luke repeated his command, but added a couple of expletives this time, and everyone startled because Luke rarely showed emotion. He never really swore or raised his voice. He didn’t need to assert himself angrily. He just chose to now.
No one present could even guess at Luke’s true loathing for this man.
Luke listened to Anya’s chest again and, happy that the tube was in the correct position and that her air entry was better, he pulled off his stethoscope and asked Vince to repeat whatever it was he had just mumbled.
‘I’m not leaving Anya,’ he said.
‘Oh, but you are,’ Luke responded. ‘Unless you can tell me, right now, exactly what Anya has taken, and why it took so long for you to get her here, you are to leave my area now.’
Foolishly he did not.
David, the anaesthetist, arrived then and took over the care of Anya’s airway. Luke called for more anti-opiate and inserted that into Anya’s IV line and then awaited its effect.
‘Can we can call for Security?’ Luke said.
‘Security?’ Heather checked, knowing that they were busy outside and wondering why they might be needed in here.
‘I want him out,’ Luke responded, and as he did so he briefly turned to the unhelpful and unwelcome visitor in his emergency room who was diverting his concentration yet still refused to move.
Luke kicked at a silver metal trolley. It clattered into a wall and the implication was clear—Anya’s private physician would be leaving by any method that Luke saw fit to use.
Paul’s assessment had been right after all—the place was about to blow, only not for the reasons anyone had been expecting!
What the hell was going on with Luke?
‘You make me sick!’ Luke shouted, and, wisely perhaps, Vince chose to leave.
Everyone glanced at each other but Luke made no comment. He simply did all he could to focus his attention fully on Anya, who was on the very brink of death.
It was a long and lengthy resuscitation.
The drugs were reversed and her heart started beating but she had aspirated too. It was more than an hour before they had Anya under control. Then it was another fifteen minutes before she started to rouse and began gagging at the tube.
‘It’s okay, Anya,’ Luke said, and then blew out a long breath because for a while there he hadn’t thought that it would be. ‘You’re in hospital.’
Anya was fighting and confused, which were good signs—all her limbs were moving and her terrified eyes briefly met Luke’s before David put Anya into an induced coma.
‘I want her up on ICU,’ David said, and looked over at Heather, who was just returning from a lengthy phone call with Admin. ‘Can you call them and ask how long until they’re ready and then arrange to clear the corridor?’
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