How could the theatre staff remain so calm? How could Iain keep his nerves in check? She felt sick just thinking about it, and from the look of her cameraman, he felt exactly the same.
Eventually Iain lifted his head, gave a nod and removed his head and eye set. He leaned back as far as he could, his back giving a painful crick.
Even beneath his mask she could see the corners of his eyes lift as he smiled. ‘That’s it, folks. You can talk again. We’ll move on to the next part of the surgery.’ The sigh of relief around the room was audible. Tense shoulders sagged and bad jokes started to circulate around the room again.
But Iain was in no way finished. He was joined at one point by Carol’s cancer specialist and the two of them reviewed the earlier CT scan to ensure Iain would capture all the lymph nodes affected. The surgery was painstaking. Iain was more exacting, more precise than she could have ever have imagined. The surgery that had been expected to take four hours actually took six, all because Iain was determined not only to remove every possible trace of cancer but also to give Carol the best cosmetic outcome possible.
When he finally finished he inserted a small plastic drain on either side of her neck. After the care and attention to detail Lexi was surprised. It seemed almost unsightly. Iain caught her expression and gave a little shake of his head. ‘We’ll need to keep these in place for the next twenty-four hours to help drain any excess fluid. It will give Carol a better result overall, even though it doesn’t look too pretty right now.’
He gave a final nod at the anaesthetist. ‘All yours, Tony. Let’s get some analgesia in and bring Carol round. I’ll be around for the next two hours if you have any concerns.’ He peeled off his gloves and mask. ‘Thank you, everyone, for your hard work and attention to detail today. Let’s do it all again on Thursday.’
It was almost as if his words gave her permission to sag against the wall. She’d found the day long, tiring, even though she’d been standing virtually in one spot. And this was just one day out of her life. Iain did this most days—sometimes every day—as well as seeing patients at the Hunter Clinic. No wonder he fell asleep in the office.
She watched as Iain moved back over to the theatre sinks to wash up. She could see the way the thin navy scrubs clung to every muscle, every sinew of his lithe body. He was chatting away to one of the scrub nurses as she cleaned the theatre around him. Not flirting. Just easy banter, the way they must act every day.
He was more relaxed in here than he was at the Hunter Clinic. And it didn’t take her long to realise why. This was home for Iain. This was his comfort zone.
Iain wasn’t renowned for his charm or easygoing manner. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was known for being gruff, sometimes downright blunt with colleagues and occasionally with patients. But his surgery spoke for itself. As did his patient recovery stories. No one could argue with those.
But if she wanted to increase publicity for the Hunter Clinic she was going to have to dig beneath the surface a little. Reveal a little of what she’d seen in Theatre today. The question was—how to do that? Iain was fiercely private and she was going to have to persuade him to lower his barriers just a touch to let their patients see the human side of the brilliant surgeon.
With the filming today she’d had a clear demonstration of his surgical skills and his commitment to the task. They’d even managed to capture some of his lighter moments with the theatre staff. All of this would be pure television gold, if only she could capture a little of the man as well.
She arched her back, just as he had done earlier. It didn’t make the same alarming cricking noise but it certainly stretched her aching muscles. She dragged her eyes away from Iain. From the shaggy hair that had been released from the theatre cap. The hair that she was imagining running her fingers through.
This would never do. She was a professional.
She was always a professional. She’d met numerous celebrities throughout her life and very few of them had impressed her. Very few of them had made her imagination run wild. Not like the way it was at the moment. It must just be fatigue. She was tired—that was all. She’d had a late night last night, after dropping Iain home, and then an early start again this morning. It couldn’t be anything else, could it?
She pushed open the door to the changing room and stripped off her pink scrubs and jumped into the shower. It only took a few minutes for the cool water to wake her up a little and she pulled on her red business suit and untied her hair, turning her head upside and down and giving it a good shake. After being confined up all day in a theatre cap, it felt good to finally have it loose again. Last she took her perfume from her bag and squirted liberally, finishing with her red lipstick.
There. Barely human again after how long? She checked her watch. Nearly twelve hours. Her stomach gave a loud rumble.
She was starving. And getting food—preferably of the unhealthy kind—was first on her list.
Iain was waiting at the changing-room doors, hoping he hadn’t missed her. Lexi Robbins had been on his radar all day. It was the first time anyone had been in his operating theatre who had actually threatened his focus.
Iain McKenzie was a surgeon who slid into ‘the zone’ whenever he operated. The patient was his absolute focus—and nothing else penetrated.
But today had been a little different. Even though his focus had still been on his patients, for the first time he’d been conscious of his peripheral vision. The set of pale pink scrubs and wide blue eyes that had occasionally caught his attention.
It had been like a constant, persistent itch. And in Iain’s mind the only way to deal with an itch was to scratch it. Maybe if he bent just a little and gave Lexi the interview she wanted she would move on to the next person on her hit list and he could return to a little sanity.
He smelt her first. Her scent permeating through the female changing-room doors. Seconds later the door opened and Lexi, a vision in red with her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, appeared.
He hesitated for a second. Lexi Robbins might have spent the day hidden in shapeless scrubs with her hair tucked away and no make-up on, but half an hour later the transformation into gorgeous sex princess was complete.
‘Oh, Iain. I wasn’t expecting to see you again. Is something wrong? Is Carol okay?’
He smiled. It was nice that her first thought was for the patient that she knew. He nodded his head. ‘Carol is doing fine. I’m happy to leave her for the evening and check on her again in the morning. I think she’ll have a comfortable night. Tomorrow we’ll get her drains out and her husband will bring her kids in for a visit. A few days’ rest with staff who will take good care of her will do her the world of good.’
Lexi’s face brightened, the smile reaching from ear to ear. It was obvious her concern was genuine and he liked that about her.
‘So what can I do for you, Iain? I thought you would be exhausted and want to get home.’
‘I do. I mean, I would. But I’d like to get our interview over with first.’
‘Really? After the day you’ve had?’ She seemed genuinely surprised.
He nodded. ‘Is that OK? Can we do it now?’
She seemed momentarily stunned then she reached into her bag to fumble with her phone. She pulled it out and stared at it for a second.
‘Something wrong?’
She shrugged. ‘Just the usual. Seventeen messages, I’ll get to them later.’ She looked around. ‘John, the cameraman, will still be about. I’ll send him a quick text. Is there somewhere around here we can set up?’
He pointed down the corridor. ‘I’ve already sorted it. The staff at the Hunter Clinic have the use of some office space here. We can use a room just down the corridor.’
‘Perfect.’ She pressed the details into her phone, sent the message to John and followed him down the corridor.
The office space was standard for any hospital. Not particularly big, with a desk, a phone and a chair. But the pièce de résistance was a picture window wit
h a stunning backdrop of the Thames. Iain watched the expression on her face as she knew instantly it was the ideal setting for the interview. Not only did it give a really traditional view of London, it let patients know the setting for their potential hospital stay if they used the Hunter Clinic. What better selling point could there be?
He should have mentioned it to her earlier, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind until his registrar had realised he was going to be interviewed and mentioned the spectacular view.
Lexi started pulling a chair over to the window, nodding at John as he appeared with his camera and instantly began setting up. ‘The light will fade soon. We’d better be quick.’
Lexi, ever the professional, nodded and pulled out her notebook. She gave Iain a cheeky wink. ‘Want me to sort out some make-up for you before your big screen debut?’
He laughed. ‘I think I’ll stick with the natural look.’
‘And the scrubs?’ She pointed to his navy scrubs. He hadn’t even given them a second thought. For the sake of the clinic Lexi would probably have preferred him polished and scrubbed in his business suit. More associated with a Harley Street clinic. But that wasn’t for Iain.
He lifted his hands. ‘I’d prefer it if patients see me the way that I spend most of my day. They don’t expect me to operate with the business suit on.’
She nodded. ‘True. But I might need you to put on a business suit for some publicity shots later. Deal?’ She lifted her eyebrows as her cheeky smile got even wider. ‘Or how about a kilt, Iain? Because once the ladies have heard that Scottish accent …’
He lifted his hand. ‘Enough. I might agree to the suit, but that’s it.’
She sat down and waited for the signal from John to say that he was ready. ‘How about we negotiate on the kilt?’
He tried not to laugh. Did she have any idea how appealing she looked right now? With her designer red suit, black stilettos and red lipstick? Lexi Robbins didn’t look like a girl who’d just spent the last twelve hours on her feet. Especially with those loose waves of blonde hair and sultry perfume floating in the air.
‘I’ve negotiated on the interview. That’s enough for now.’
John gave Lexi the nod and the light came on at the top of the camera. Iain adjusted his position under its glare.
‘Let’s start simply,’ Lexi said. ‘Start by telling us your name, what you do at Hunter Clinic and how long you’ve worked there.’
Iain nodded and took a deep breath. If he could get this over and done with tonight then this could be the end of his contact with Lexi Robbins.
This itch just didn’t need scratched. It was like a chicken pox. It needed the head knocked clean off it.
He looked towards the camera. Smiling just wasn’t his natural instinct. ‘I’m Iain McKenzie and you might guess by the accent that I’m from Edinburgh. I’ve worked at the Hunter Clinic for the last two years, specialising in reconstructive surgery.’
Lexi nodded. ‘Iain, can you tell us the difference between general plastic surgery and reconstructive surgery?’
He nodded curtly, trying to choose his words carefully. Trying to use terms that people would be familiar with instead of medical jargon. ‘I can do all the things that a general plastic surgeon can do—face lifts, tummy tucks, breast enhancements—but I specialise in surgery that’s a bit more complicated. For example, lots of my patients have had surgery in other places—other countries—that might not have given them the outcome they wanted or expected. Some of the surgery I do would be termed corrective surgery.’
Lexi made some circling motions with her hand, urging him to continue.
He took a deep breath. ‘I also deal with a number of patients who’ve had cancer that’s affected various parts of their bodies. That can be anywhere, their breasts, their faces, head and neck. All areas that might require reconstruction after the cancer has been removed and treatment has been completed. Often these surgeries require rebuilding, reshaping or prosthetic implants to give the patient back the body that they want.’
‘Is it purely cosmetic reconstructive surgery that you do at the Hunter Clinic, Iain?’
He shook his head. ‘I also specialise in functional surgery. I’ve treated a number of patients with oral and cleft-palate defects. In this country, most children would have surgery done at a young age. The same facilities aren’t available in all countries and I’ve dealt with a number of adult patients who’ve come to the Hunter Clinic to have these corrected later in life. It can make a huge difference to their ability to eat and to their speech to have these corrected later in life.
‘Of course, we also have a number of rehabilitation services, such as speech therapists and dieticians, available to support the care of these patients. All our services are about giving people the best possible outcome from their surgeries.’ He shook his head firmly. ‘I wouldn’t perform any surgery that I didn’t believe would have a positive impact on the patient.’
He was trying his absolute best not to say anything that would make Lexi throw her hands up in horror. He didn’t want to have to repeat this interview over and over again because he’d been way too blunt about some of the vanity-driven requests of clients.
Lexi shifted in her chair, crossing her legs and giving him an unexpectedly good view of her shapely calves and thighs.
‘That’s great, Iain, thanks. Now, can you tell us a little more about yourself?’
She was staring at him with those big blue eyes. Smiling, with her open face and manner. He could almost forget that the camera was in the room with them.
‘Well, there’s not much to tell. I grew up in Edinburgh, Scotland. I did my university and medical training at hospitals in Edinburgh. I was a Scout—though not a very good one. I could never master the art of lighting a fire.’ He raised his eyebrows at Lexi, who let out a little laugh.
‘Our patients would like to know a little more about the man behind the surgeon’s mask. How about I ask you some questions?’
He shifted in his chair a little uncomfortably. From this position it was still too easy to keep his eyes on Lexi’s legs.
She leaned forward a little, as if she was trying to encourage him. It also gave him the slightest hint of her cleavage down her firmly fastened white blouse. Cleavage that he would love to get his hands on—to see who had done her surgery and whether it met with his approval. To see whether it was right for Lexi.
Those legs again and the thoughts of having his hands on her breasts was causing a familiar sensation. One that a camera certainly shouldn’t see. He shifted his position.
‘Let’s try some quick-fire questions.’
‘Yes, let’s.’ The words came out almost unconsciously. It must be fatigue. That must be why he was being so pliable. That, or the fact he needed to try some distraction techniques right now. Normally, by this point he would have got up and walked away. Personal questions really went against all his principles.
‘Movies—action or drama?’
He shook his head. ‘Neither. Sci-fi. Every single time.’ These kinds of question were fine. They were harmless. Inane.
‘Italian, Chinese or Indian food?’
‘Depends entirely what day of the week it is—and, what I’m doing the next day. Italian, with no garlic, if I’m operating the next day. Chinese if it’s heading towards a weekend. And Indian food on a Saturday night, preferably with a pint.’
‘A pint?’
‘You know.’ He lifted and gestured with his wrist. ‘Like all good Scotsmen. A pint of beer.’
She smiled again. ‘Just the one?’
He shrugged. ‘Normally, depends on the company.’
She paused, as if taking in those words, then glanced back down at her notes. ‘Best job—apart from the Hunter Clinic, of course.’
He frowned, racking his brain. ‘There are two—completely different from each other. One, as a trainee I spent two months with the mountain rescue team in the Swiss Alps. Learnt more in those two months than I did at any
other point in my training. It was fabulous.’
Lexi nodded. ‘And the second?’
‘Voluntary work. I visited one of the Romanian orphanages a number of years ago and did some of the specialist cleft-lip and palate surgeries that I described earlier.’ His voice lowered. ‘It was a real eye-opener. And a really rewarding time. I’m planning on going back next summer.’
Lexi was looking excited. ‘The Hunter Clinic will be supporting some charity work and has just joined up with Olivia Fairchild’s charity Fair Go. Will you be available to do some work for that charity, Iain?’
The way she said the words was so innocent. So off the cuff. But he knew fine well she was capturing him on tape. Just as well he’d already had this conversation with Leo Hunter and had agreed to help in any way he could. ‘I’m happy to help the Hunter Clinic in any charity that they choose to support—just as they are happy to help me, in any charity I choose to support.’ Touché. These things worked both ways.
Lexi was still leaning forward. Still making him feel as if it were only the two of them in the room. It was starting to fire his imagination again. Make him remember the things that had kept him from sleeping last night.
She gave him her dazzling smile. ‘What about your favourite holiday?’
It was an innocent question. A completely innocuous question. But for Iain it hit a nerve he was unprepared for. Pictures were instantly conjured up in his mind. Pictures of a perfect honeymoon in Venice, with thousands of images of the multicoloured houses, the islands, the canals, the gondolas and the wonders of St Mark’s Square. If he breathed in deeply enough he could practically smell the place. The words formed on his lips without him even thinking. ‘Venice, for my honeymoon. It was beautiful. The most perfect city in the world.’
‘You were married?’
The surprised tone in Lexi’s voice brought him to his senses. He knew he should answer this casually. It had been a slip. His fault, something he didn’t normally reveal, and he could have kicked himself for saying the words out loud.
Girl From the Red Carpet Page 4
