Lynne Marshall - 200 Harley Street

Marinna smiled and leant back in the chair as Leo opened up a small pack. Lizzie was too embarrassed to ask if he needed anything, she didn’t have a clue what he was doing! ‘Marianna’s fiancé bought her a puppy,’ Leo said as he opened up a small packet and an eye dressing.

‘How lovely,’ Lizzie said, frantically trying to work out what was happening. Maybe he had to check her eyes before he operated or something?

‘He’s a basset hound,’ Marianna said. ‘He talks to me, I swear.’

‘I had a parrot that did that,’ Leo said, and it was such a silly joke that Marianna started to laugh and so did Lizzie.

‘You didn’t have a parrot?’ Marianna checked as he put two fluorescein drops into her eyes—it was an indicator and any scratches to her eye would turn green.

‘Of course not.’

The laughter mixed with the drops had brought tears to Marianna’s eyes and Lizzie watched as the bright orange liquid ran down the side of her face. ‘No, there’s no scratch,’ Leo said. ‘Still, keep it covered for a few days, antibiotic drops and mild painkillers if you need them. A scratch to the cornea can be extremely painful. And watch that puppy’s claws!’

Lizzie had stopped even trying to hide her frown now—hadn’t he just said that she didn’t have a scratch?

Leo put a large eye patch on and taped it over Marianna’s eye. ‘Okay, dark glasses back on.’

‘Thank you.’

Lizzie saw a little of the stain running down Marianna’s cheek and went to wipe it but Leo halted her, his hand lightly dusting hers, and Lizzie pulled her hand back just a little too quickly to even try to pretend his touch hadn’t been noted. ‘Just leave it …’ Leo said.

Only then did Lizzie realise the lengths Marianna had to go to in order to keep this procedure a secret. The puppy, the small smear of fluorescein coming from beneath the eye patch and now the dark glasses. It wasn’t her ignorance that had Lizzie’s cheeks burning, though, but the brief contact from Leo.

‘Thanks, Lizzie.’ Marianna smiled as Leo walked her out to the foyer. ‘Will I be seeing you in the morning?’

‘Of course,’ Leo answered for Lizzie.

Well, it looked like she’d better set her alarm early, Lizzie thought as she made her way to her office, but she was excited at the prospect of Marianna arriving under the cover of darkness and just thrilled to be a part of the big charade!

‘I assume the future princess was just in?’ A terribly handsome man dressed from head to toe in black leathers and carrying a crash helmet under his arm was walking towards her. ‘I’m Declan Underwood.’ He shook her hand.

‘Oh, yes, Leo did tell me about you.’ Leo had said that Declan was his second in command. ‘I’m Lizzie Birch.’

‘I know.’ Declan smiled. ‘Leo called earlier and told me that you’d started. I hear Flora kicking off was your welcome!’

Lizzie really didn’t know what to say but settled for a noncommittal smile as Leo walked over to join them.

‘I’m guessing that was Marianna,’ Declan said to Leo. ‘Lizzie wouldn’t tell me.’

‘You could be anyone,’ Lizzie pointed out.

‘Fair enough. But I knew it must be someone if Leo was actually rolling up his sleeves to see a patient. He pinches all the good stuff.’ Declan smiled. ‘Or rather he takes only the good stuff.’

It was good-natured teasing, Lizzie being quite sure that Declan would have more than his fair share of glamorous patients.

Declan headed off to get changed and returned a few moments later looking very suave in a suit. Leo watched as Lizzie, not knowing he was watching, rolled her eyes.

‘What?’ Leo frowned in fleeting concern. The last thing he needed was his head nurse not getting on with Declan.

‘Nothing,’ Lizzie said, then, knowing she’d been caught, admitted the truth. ‘When you hand-pick your staff …’ she shook her head in exasperation ‘… do they have to be good looking?’

‘Do you find me good looking, Lizzie?’ Leo teased.

‘I think you know that you are.’

Leo just smiled. ‘Well, if that is part of my selection criteria then know that you …’ He halted. It was her first day and he was determined to heed Ethan’s advice and get through it without flirting, but it was starting to prove an impossible ask. ‘It’s not all about looks, Lizzie,’ he scolded.

‘That a bit rich, coming from a cosmetic surgeon,’ Lizzie retorted lightly.

‘Tell me, Lizzie …’ He was dying to know. ‘What have you had done?’

His finger came and lifted her chin, just slightly, and no there was no teeny scar beneath. She could feel the heat from his fingers and told herself it was second nature for Leo to examine a face.

It just made the air trapped in her lungs burn.

‘If I guess correctly, will you—?’

‘I still won’t tell you.’

Leo dropped the contact and Lizzie was glad that he did but she blushed when she saw the reason he had. A very boot-faced Ethan was walking past.

‘Isn’t it your home time?’ Leo said to Lizzie.

‘I was just going to—’

‘Go,’ he ordered. ‘I want you here tomorrow at four. ‘I’ll have a driver pick you up.’

‘A driver?’

‘You’re not walking alone at that time,’ Leo said.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I’m not. It will all go on Prince Ferdinand’s account. Oh, and if you come in and someone’s crashed on my couch, you have my permission to kick them off.’

‘Okay.’

‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus in here at night,’ Leo said, but didn’t elaborate. ‘Welcome aboard, Lizzie.’

WAKING TO HER alarm, Lizzie struggled to remember the last time she had enjoyed waking up way before dawn and looking forward to going to work quite as much as she now was.

Yes, it had only been a day, Lizzie thought as she dressed and tied back her hair and, yes, maybe she had got the job by pure default, but it was all so glamorous, and exciting. She was also incredibly impressed with the charitable side of the clinic as well as the care and concern that had been shown to Jessica—the work really was diverse.

As promised, her intercom buzzed at five minutes to four and Lizzie headed down to the car, sinking back into the leather for the impossibly short trip to the clinic.

She felt looked after.

Lizzie blinked at her own admission.

For the first time in an awfully long time she felt as if she was being looked after, rather than the other way round.

It was a guilty admission.

As she’d been growing up, Lizzie’s parents had doted on her.

Her mum would even warm her school uniform every morning in the winter. Lizzie had been wrapped in love by her parents.

Supported.

Stifled.

A bit, Lizzie conceded as she thanked the driver and stepped out of the warm car into the freezing morning. The pavement was icy and the air blew white as she let herself in.

Not stifled in any terrible way, Lizzie guiltily amended as she keyed in the security code to turn off the alarm. Her parents had been wonderful, supporting her in everything, but even her leaving home to do her nursing training had caused such a marked change to their many routines that it had been then, almost at that point, that Lizzie had been more a carer than cared for.

She had worried endlessly about them, telling herself not to as she’d prepared for a trip overseas with her boyfriend.

Her first.

It had never happened.

She had found out at the airport that her mother had had a serious fall and, to Peter’s displeasure, she had backed out of their trip and returned to her family, racked with guilt for even thinking of leaving, and had stayed to take care of her mother.