Lynne Marshall - 200 Harley Street

She flicked the switch on the radio and tuned in to some classic tunes. Anything to distract her right now. Anything to take her mind off the sea of cameras that would be waiting for her in the next hour.

Iain would be right next to her. And with him there, everything would be all right—wouldn’t it?

Iain knocked on her door, the London wind whistling about his knees. This wind was for amateurs. If he was in Edinburgh right now the wind would have his kilt dancing somewhere around his ears. It had been a long time since he’d taken his kilt out of its carrier. A very long time. He used to love wearing his kilt on special occasions. Then again, he used to love going out—something he rarely did in London.

Lexi opened the door and let out a squeal. ‘You did it! You wore the kilt!’

Her face was a picture. For a second he was transfixed by the sparkle in her eyes and broadest of smiles.

Until he became distracted by the floaty pale pink chiffon of her dress. A sleeveless dress with broad straps and a cross-over bodice, scattered with silver sequins that skimmed down across her hips. Her waist was accentuated by a pale pink ribbon cinched around it, giving her a perfect hourglass shape. The dress skimmed her knees. There was nothing revealing about it. Nothing to attract undue attention. But the way it clung to her body and accentuated her curves was attention-grabbing enough for Iain. That, along with how the dress rippled in the wind, made her look like a butterfly, waiting to be captured.

She’d left her blonde hair in loose curls over her shoulders, there was a light tan on her skin, and her feet were encased in red-soled silver sparkling shoes. She’d never looked so beautiful.

‘Wow, Lexi. Just wow. You don’t need to win the award tonight. No one will be able to take their eyes off you.’

She waved her hand and picked up her evening purse. ‘Sure they won’t. They’ll be more interested in the free food and free bar.’ She paused in front of the mirror and applied some more pink lipstick, giving him a cheeky wink. ‘I, on the other hand, will spend the whole night wondering if you’re a true Scotsman or not.’

‘Wanna find out now?’

‘Naughty.’ She batted his hands away, picking up the silver invitation and tucking it into her bag.

His hands caught her around the waist. There was no way he was leaving here without a kiss. He bent forward and nibbled at her neck, catching the aroma of her trademark perfume. It sent his pulse racing. What kind of underwear did she have on under that beautiful dress?

‘So, Lexi. Make me pass out with shock at the price of that dress. You look stunning.’

‘This?’ She shook her head. ‘I bought it on the high street. I’m sure the fashion press will have plenty to say about that tomorrow.’ She lifted her leg and extended her sparkling shoe towards him. ‘These, however, would probably make me remortgage my house.’

‘Really? Shoes?’ He stared for a few moments. Sure, they were pretty. And they matched the dress. But crazy money—on shoes?

He shook his head and watched as she fastened some glittering earrings on her lobes. ‘Are you ready?’

She took one last glance in the mirror then picked up her bag. Her hands were trembling slightly. Lexi Robbins was nervous. He couldn’t believe it. She looked a million dollars and her work spoke for itself. Just about every newspaper in the country had covered Carol Kennedy’s story after her interview had appeared on Lexi’s father’s show.

Carol had shown great courage, though not without a tear or two. She’d let the cameraman film her drains being removed, the initial scars. The post-op complications. Every time she spoke there was a tiny waver in her voice that was overcome by her courage and the message that she wanted to share with others. It was media gold and everyone knew it.

The only thing that had irked Iain had been the glossing over of Lexi’s role. Her name had appeared in the credits of her father’s show, but very little had been said about the work she had done. That was part of the reason he’d nominated her for the award. He wanted the world to know about the sterling work that she had done.

And that was without mentioning the current waiting list of clients he’d had since his interview for the Hunter Clinic had exploded all over the media. If it had been anyone but Lexi, he might have been annoyed to be in the public eye. But it would only be for a few weeks then they would move on to someone else. Or so he hoped.

The flashlights exploded as they stepped from the car outside the prestigious London hotel. For the first time in his life Iain could hear people shouting his name, vying for his attention. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one little bit.

‘Dr Sexy! Look over here first!’

It didn’t help that the hotel had laid a red carpet outside and set up sponsorship banners for photographers. Iain kept his arm tightly around Lexi’s waist and tried to steer her directly inside.

‘Lexi, are you dating Iain McKenzie? Is that why you did the interview?’

‘Lexi, where’s the dress from?’

‘Dr McKenzie, what’s your relationship with Lexi Robbins?’

He grimaced. Ignorant journalist. He was a surgeon. He was Mr McKenzie, not Dr. And he couldn’t even begin to say what his intentions towards Lexi were—because he didn’t know himself.

The hotel was stunning and after the first glass of champagne Lexi’s nerves seemed to settle. She moved into professional PR mode, working the room, circulating and talking to everyone, without letting Iain leave her side.

After around half an hour he felt Lexi stiffen. He didn’t even need to ask why. Her mother and father had entered the room to a round of applause. They moved through the crowd effortlessly. And after a few minutes’ fascination he quickly came to the realisation that they were their own biggest fans.

They barely even glanced at their beautiful daughter and Iain could feel the fire surge in his belly.

Lexi was pretending not to notice. She was smiling and talking politely to those around her, even though it was blindingly obvious to the whole room that her parents hadn’t even taken the time to acknowledge her.

She pressed her hand on Iain’s arm. ‘You’ll need to excuse me a minute, Iain, I need to check my make-up.’ He could see unshed tears hiding behind her eyes. She needed a little time out. A little space to collect herself.

‘No problem,’ he muttered, watching her cross the room in her fluttering dress. As soon as she was out of sight he walked directly over to the bar, where her father was ordering champagne.

He held out his hand. ‘Steve Robbins? I’m Iain McKenzie. I’m here with your daughter tonight.’

Lexi’s father frowned then switched into false mode and shook Iain’s hand. He could tell the man wasn’t the least bit interested, but Iain hadn’t even started yet.

Lexi’s mother sidled up to the bar in a blue silk sheath dress, her eyes watching her own reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

‘I nominated Lexi for the award this evening. She’s done some really fantastic work at the Hunter Clinic.’

Penelope Crosby lifted her eyebrows. He could tell it was because the conversation wasn’t directly focused on her. What a sad woman. But she couldn’t deter him.

‘Lexi has raised over a hundred thousand pounds in the last few weeks for the charity work of the clinic.’

‘Charity work, huh?’ Lexi’s father shook his head. ‘More likely lining the pockets of you and your colleagues.’

Iain stilled the fire in his belly. ‘I don’t need anyone else to line my pockets. I probably earn more money than you do,’ he shot back, without the slightest hint of embarrassment. ‘I think you should appreciate the wonderful job that your daughter does. She gave you that breakthrough a few weeks ago with my patient Carol Kennedy. None of that filming would have taken place if I hadn’t agreed to it. And the only reason Carol spoke to Lexi was because Lexi was genuinely concerned about her and showed her some compassion.’ He took a drink from his whisky sitting on the bar. ‘A trait that obviously doesn’t run in the family.’