‘I’ll do it.’ Lizzie sighed.
‘Sorry to trouble you!’ Leo quipped, and well he might. After all, he was paying her extremely well, but only as he sat down and put his head back did he realise her discomfort, only then was he suddenly aware of his own naked skin, because Lizzie was leaning over him, and trying not to touch him as she soaked the wound to soften it so that the stitches wouldn’t stick or catch on their way out.
Breast implants? Leo wondered as one hovered above his view, and he desperately tried to quash that thought, not just because it was inappropriate but rather more the effect it was starting to have on him. ‘Just take them out.’
‘I’m going to.’
No, there were no implants, Leo knew his silicone from his saline and these were just soft and ripe, and his jaw clamped down as he focused on the blade in an effort to keep things down!
Lizzie’s hands were shaking slightly. She could smell his cologne and his bare arm seemed to burn her skirted thigh as she leant over and tried to slip the blade beneath the suture.
‘Stay still,’ she warned.
‘I am staying still,’ Leo snapped, because ninety nine per cent of him was, it was just the flood to his groin that was the problem. He lay there refuting the body surface area charts he’d studied in his medical training, because that part of his anatomy certainly accounted for more than one per cent right now.
He did his twelve-times table backwards and breathed in the scent of antiseptic rather than focusing on the fresh smell of her, and when that didn’t work he reminded himself that Lizzie could be sleeping with Ethan.
Olivia.
With just one word he averted disaster.
‘Done.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You need a little adhesive strip here,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s a teeny bit open in the middle.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Whatever.’ Lizzie shrugged.
No!
Both said it in their heads as their eyes met.
This is so not going to happen.
‘You should keep it dry …’
‘I know the drill.’
‘Of course.’
‘Lizzie?’
‘What?’
He didn’t know how to ask her, yet he had to know if there was more between her and Ethan, but the time wasn’t right now—there was somewhere else he needed to be. ‘I’d better get on.’ He stood and pulled on his shirt as she cleared the dressing pack away and put the blade in the sharps box.
‘Are you going somewhere nice?’ Lizzie asked, as he opened a bag and pulled out three new ties, with the extortionate price tags still on.
‘Somewhere very nice,’ Leo said. ‘And I’m actually nervous.’
‘Oh?’
‘Which tie? I asked them to send a selection.’
‘Grey …’ Lizzie said, then changed her mind. ‘I like the silver one.’
‘Nope.’ Leo shook his head. ‘Too much.’
‘You really are nervous!’ She grinned. ‘So where are you going?’
‘I actually can’t tell you,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve another house call to make.’
‘You’re going to see a patient?’ Lizzie frowned because he truly did seem tense.
‘Yep.’
He was knotting his tie and kept having to redo it.
‘So why can’t you tell me?’
‘Completely confidential,’ Leo said.
‘Isn’t everyone?’
‘Of course.’
He wasn’t saying any more and Lizzie loathed herself for being so curious, but who on earth could it be? After all they’d had Marianna, you didn’t get any more prestigious than a soon-to-be European princess … maybe another royal?
‘What time do you have to be there?’
‘Six,’ Leo said. ‘On the dot. How’s that?’ He stood there, looking absolutely stunning, his hair brushed back, his suit to die for and, yes, his tie was perfect.
‘Can’t beat a good old Windsor knot,’ she said, and gave him an almost imperceptible wink. ‘Though maybe you should have gone for royal blue.’
Still he refused to be drawn but she did see his tongue roll in his cheek as he suppressed a smile. ‘See you, Lizzie.’
‘Good luck,’ she called out to him as he headed off, and, rather than nervous now, Leo was actually smiling.
Lizzie was far too perceptive!
CHAPTER EIGHT
INSTEAD OF WORKING out what she would be wearing for the ball or getting a pedicure and her nails done, Lizzie’s weekend was spent in Brighton.
‘I’m going to a ball next weekend,’ Lizzie told her mum, chatting away as she sorted out her mother’s clothes for the week.
‘Do you hear that, Faye?’ her father, Thomas, asked. ‘Lizzie’s going to a ball in London.’
But Faye wasn’t interested in anything other than the thought that someone had taken her watch.
‘It’s being fixed, Mum,’ Lizzie attempted again, but Faye wouldn’t accept that. Today everyone was a thief, including Lizzie—who she thought was a stranger rifling through her wardrobe in broad daylight.
‘It’s Lizzie,’ Thomas said when Faye angrily confronted her.
‘Mum, I’m just trying to sort out your clothes,’ Lizzie explained patiently.
‘I’m not your mother,’ Faye shouted, and then walked off and Thomas followed her. It was normal that she didn’t recognise her, Lizzie more than knew that, and the anger and aggression was part of her illness too, but it hurt to see her mother so angry and fearful, and to not even be recognised was an agony that couldn’t always be rationalised away.
‘She’s having a cup of tea with the nurses.’ Thomas came back and gave Lizzie a smile. ‘So, you’re going out next week to a ball?’
‘It’s a work function,’ Lizzie said, ‘but it sounds very glamorous.’
‘Are you going with anyone?’
‘My boss.’
‘And does your boss have a name?’
‘Leo,’ Lizzie said. ‘Leo Hunter.’ She saw her dad’s eyebrow rise and Lizzie frowned but then realised that, of course, her dad would have heard of Leo. Even before Faye had taken ill they had lived their lives through magazines and newspapers.
‘Watch yourself, Lizzie.’
‘Leo’s lovely.’
‘Hmmph,’ her dad said. ‘He comes from bad stock. I remember reading about his mother. Above all the rules everyone else lived by, out partying …’
‘It’s a work do.’
‘Even so,’ her dad huffed. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt again. I remember Peter …’
Lizzie bit her tongue. Peter had been her boyfriend nearly ten years ago and, yes, the break-up had hurt but life hurt sometimes whether or not you lived it.
Her father just chose to live his life reading about everyone else.
‘Why don’t you come over to see the Hewitts when Mum’s resting this afternoon?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Just for a coffee.’ The Hewitts were old family friends who ran the bed and breakfast Lizzie stayed at when visiting, but her dad shook his head. ‘What about a walk on the beach, then?’ Lizzie attempted. ‘It would be nice to get some fresh air.’
‘I like to stay close to your mum.’
‘I know but …’
Lizzie gave in. Even a small walk was a major event for her father. It was a long weekend and a depressing one. She loved her parents dearly and the Hewitts were lovely people too, but they were almost as locked in the past as her parents and Lizzie was guilty with relief at how nice it felt to be back in London. As she headed to 200 Harley Street on Monday morning she was certainly looking forward to work, and, even though she was trying hard to deny it, she was also looking forward to seeing Leo.
‘How was your weekend?’ Leo asked her as she took off her scarf and coat.
‘It was fine,’ she answered. ‘How was yours?’
‘I need another one to recover from it.’ He yawned.
‘Any house calls today?’ Lizzie
asked.
‘Nope.’
‘You never did tell me how things went the other evening on your house call,’ she fished.
‘I deliberately didn’t.’
‘Please …’ Lizzie whimpered. ‘I have to know where you went.’
‘I’ll tell you if you tell me who did your surgery.’
She poked out her tongue and then stopped because banter was just too easy with Leo and it was starting to look a lot like flirting.
Leo had actually had an unusually quiet weekend. Yes, there had been drinks after work on Friday and he’d been out to a very glamorous dinner on Saturday but, unusually for Leo, he’d returned to his apartment alone and on Sunday he’d found himself racking his brains for a reason, or rather an excuse, to ring Lizzie.
It would be a terrible idea, Leo knew that. Especially as he didn’t yet know the full extent of her friendship with Ethan. Yes, his brother had said it had all been professional but Ethan seemed terribly keen to look out for her.
All morning the question built for Leo. He simply could not get Lizzie out of his mind and, as lunchtime approached, Leo came up with a very simple solution.
He’d just ask her, Leo decided.
But not here.
‘Do you want to go out for lunch?’ Leo didn’t mince his words, he was very used to asking women to join him, it was Lizzie’s response that he wasn’t used to.
‘Er, no,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve got plans …’ She frantically searched for an excuse because she was already struggling to keep things professional. ‘I’m going to the zoo.’
‘The zoo?’
‘I’ve been meaning to since I got here. It’s so close …’
‘It’s freezing,’ Leo said, ‘you won’t see anything.’
‘How do you know?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Have you ever been to the zoo in January?’
‘ No.’
‘Then don’t comment on what you don’t know.’ Lizzie said. ‘It will be nice without the crowds. Anyway, I’m not going to look at the animals today, I’m taking out a membership.’
She turned to go and Leo watched her, saw the curve of her bottom and with two words he confirmed the mood in the room.
‘Buttock implants?’
It was a little game they’d invented—Leo was still trying to guess what work Lizzie had done, but even he inwardly cringed as he said it. He was either outright flirting with Lizzie or being completely inappropriate with a colleague, and he held his breath as he leapt over the line, wondering what her reaction would be.
It surprised him.
More pointedly, it surprised Lizzie.
‘Maybe!’ She didn’t turn around, just paused momentarily and gave a little wiggle that sent all his blood rushing south··
What on earth was that?
Lizzie almost ran to her office and retrieved her coat, astounded at her own brazenness, asking herself how, with one smouldering look, he so easily tripped the switch.
No! she told herself as she took a taxi to the zoo.
No, no, no, she thought as she filled in the forms and paid for her membership, which would give her unlimited visits for the year.
The zoo actually served as a very pertinent reminder.
Do not feed the lions.
Especially one called Leo.
‘How was the zoo?’ Leo asked when she returned an hour later.
‘I’ll tell you when I’ve been properly.’
‘Leo …’ Gwen knocked on the open door. ‘I’ve got Francesca on the telephone—she’s terribly upset. I can’t make sense …’
‘Put her through,’ Leo said, dismissing them both, but a few minutes later he found Lizzie and brought her up to speed.
‘Francesca had surgery on Friday and she thinks it’s infected. She’s completely hysterical and she won’t go back to the surgeon who did the operation and she’s refusing to go to Kate’s. I’ve told her to get into a taxi and come here. I’ll see her in one of the treatment rooms. She won’t be long.’
Francesca wasn’t.
Gwen went out to help her in and Leo gave a small eye roll to Lizzie. ‘Hold onto that while I examine her, please.’
‘Hold onto what?’
‘My ego,’ Leo said. ‘And you have my permission to kick me if I look like I’m about to say, “I told you so”.’
In fact, he was nothing but kind to her.
Francesca was absolutely distraught and sat huddled behind dark glasses and with a scarf around her face.
‘Please don’t be cross with me, Leo.’
‘Why would I be cross?’
‘Disappointed, then.’
‘I’m not a parent for a reason, Francesca. I don’t do guilt trips.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Francesca conceded.
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘I had surgery on Friday; he was able to fit me in the next day as he had a cancellation. I didn’t go to just anyone. He comes highly recommended …’ She gave the surgeon’s name.
‘Geoff’s a fantastic surgeon,’ Leo said. ‘Right, I need to take a look at it.’
Lizzie helped Francesca with her glasses and scarf as she told them the work she’d had done. ‘He said it was just a small lift and some fillers but now the wound is oozing.’
Leo washed his hands as Lizzie checked Francesca’s temperature and pulse—both were high—then Leo sat on a stool opposite Francesca and examined her face very carefully.
‘I agree it looks terrible at the moment but …’ As Francesca started sobbing Leo overrode her. ‘From what I can see, Geoff has done a good job.’
Francesca’s eyes snapped open.
‘I wouldn’t have done it, but, then, I possibly go overboard on subtle and natural, but he hasn’t gone over the top. There’s a lot of swelling and a lot of bruising but when that all settles, I think it will be far better than you’re now expecting.’
Not for the first time, Leo surprised her—he didn’t criticise the other surgeon. If anything, he spoke well of his work and, as promised, he didn’t take Francesca on a guilt trip, he just slowly calmed the terrified woman down.
‘What about the infection?’ Francesca asked.
‘Unfortunate,’ Leo said, ‘but it happens sometimes …’ He took a swab. ‘I want to have a listen to your chest …’ He took her pulse for quite a long time and then looked at Lizzie. ‘Actually, could you help Francesca into a gown? I’d like to examine her properly.’
‘Leo …’ Francesca shook her head to decline but Leo was adamant.
‘I’m not arguing with you again, Francesca. I want to examine you and I’ll be honest—I think you need a couple of days in hospital.’ When Francesca started to argue Leo pushed on. ‘My only criticism, and this isn’t just Geoff, but people seem to think surgery like this is a day procedure.’
‘Leo, I don’t want to go to hospital. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.’
He would not be swayed. Buzzing through to Gwen, he asked her to order a private ambulance for the short trip to Kate’s as, behind a curtain, Lizzie helped Francesca into a gown and onto the examination table.
‘I’m a stupid old fool,’ Francesca said, as Lizzie pulled off her boots, but a very agile Francesca needed no help swinging her legs up.
‘I think you’re amazing,’ Lizzie admitted.
‘You just say that to be kind.’
‘No.’ Lizzie shook her head, forgetting that Leo was listening as she did her best to put Francesca at ease. ‘Even before my mum got ill, my parents were always acting older than they were—always set in their ways. My father won’t even go for a walk. At least you do things,’ Lizzie said. ‘You live your life and make mistakes …’ She said it so nicely and gently that even Francesca smiled. ‘I think you’re glamorous and wonderful and everything I’d like to be when I’m—’
‘Careful!’ came Francesca’s friendly warning.
‘Fifty-two,’ Lizzie said, and both women laughed.
‘What’s wrong with your mum?�
�� Francesca asked, but just as Lizzie went to answer, the other woman started to cough. ‘Here,’ Lizzie said, ‘let me help you sit up.’
‘I can’t …’ Francesca was struggling to get in air.
And just at the moment Lizzie thought that she had a handle on her job and knew more or less what to expect, she was in the middle of an emergency. ‘Leo …’
He must have heard the concern in Lizzie’s voice because he was behind the curtain in an instant.
‘It’s okay, Francesca,’ he said immediately, and he sounded so calm that for a second Lizzie wondered if he’d actually noticed that Francesca’s lips were blue and her skin a deathly grey.
‘I can’t breathe …’ Francesca gasped.
‘I know,’ Leo said, his fingers taking the pulse on her neck as his other hand reached for his stethoscope. ‘Don’t try and speak. Just nod or shake your head. Do you have pain?’ Leo asked.
She shook her head. ‘Leo …’
‘Press the intercom,’ Leo said once Lizzie had put on a probe to read Francesca’s oxygen levels—and they were dire. ‘Gwen!’ His voice was calm and clipped. ‘Call 999 and see who else is around.’
Lizzie slipped an oxygen mask on Francesca as Leo inserted an IV. Despite his calm demeanour, Lizzie could see the flare of worry in his eyes as more and more it looked as if Francesca was suffering from a potentially fatal pulmonary embolism—a complication that sometimes happened after surgery when a clot deep in the veins of the leg flicked off and travelled to the lung.
‘What have we got?’ Mitchell Cooper, an American surgeon who Lizzie had had few dealings with, came in with the crash trolley and set to work pulling up emergency drugs.
‘Query PE in a seventy-two-year-old, three days post facelift and fillers. The wound looks infected …’
‘When was she last seen?’ Mitchell glanced up from the syringe he was filling.
‘I’m not sure.’ Lizzie saw Mitchell frown at Leo’s irregular response because post-operative care was taken very seriously at the Hunter Clinic.
‘What do you mean, you’re not sure when she was last seen?’ Mitchell demanded—he clearly had no qualms questioning Leo about something as serious as this.
‘I didn’t do the surgery,’ Leo said.
Surgeon in a Tux Page 7
