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.
But there was something else. Something hanging in the air between them. Something that he hadn’t quite yet managed to fathom.
And as Lexi sat there in the dimming light, with her wide blue eyes, designer red suit and long, lithe limbs, all he could remember was the Lexi from his dream last night. The one who had been straddling him with those long legs. The one who had danced those red lips across his forehead and chest. Taking him to a whole place he hadn’t visited in a long time.
His reaction was automatic. He stood up, causing both Lexi and John to start in their positions. Trying to erase all those thoughts from his head and trying to push the aroma of her perfume from his senses.
He needed to get out of there. He needed space. More importantly, he needed to get away from her. As far away as possible.
‘Iain? Iain, what’s wrong?’ She stood up, straightening her skirt and taking a step towards him.
He couldn’t let her touch him. He couldn’t let her be near him at all right now.
‘Interview over,’ he growled as he strode to the door and flung it open, letting it slam off the wall as his steps ate up the corridor outside.
‘AS IF THIS day could get any worse.’ Lexi let out a sigh as the buzzer sounded loudly again. It was almost as if someone upstairs was laughing at her, waiting until her toe was perfectly poised above the millions of lavender-scented bubbles and her satin dressing gown had just hit the floor.
The buzzing was becoming more incessant, more desperate. So she picked the dressing-gown back off the floor and knotted it tightly around her waist. ‘This had better be good,’ she muttered as she made her way to the door.
She swung the door open, fatigue stopping her from putting her sensible head in place. The one that would make her put all her locks in place and check through the peephole before opening the door, half-dressed.
‘Iain!’
The very last person she had expected to see tonight.
The cool night air swept around her thin dressing-gown, making it billow against her legs. She tried to grab it, tried to hide the swathes of skin it was threatening to expose.
Iain was leaning against her doorjamb, his shaggy hair looking as if he’d spent the last two hours running his fingers through it.
Twenty minutes. That was how long the interview had lasted. And while what she’d captured initially was just what she’d hoped for and would be perfect for the publicity campaign, the ending had been more than a little abrupt.
She’d been left standing with her jaw bouncing off the floor as John had shrugged, packed up his camera and left for the night. Iain had vanished. No one in the hospital had known where he was and Lexi had been left to make her way home wondering what on earth she’d done wrong.
A long hot bubble bath, a glass of wine and a mountain of pizza had been on the cards.
‘Can I come in?’ His manner was still abrupt