200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London. Lynne Marshall

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the process of sticking with mommy material had been a huge failure, but he’d keep on. It was the only way. Nothing would stop him from finding a proper mother for Mia.

      But knowing Grace was on the other side of their adjoining office wall would make deleting her from his personal life as difficult as—he fished around on his desk for the surgical referral of his next patient—making Mrs. Evermore look twenty years younger, which was her surgical goal on the application for a face-lift.

      Grace spent the afternoon with Lexi on a tour of the two state-of-the-art hospitals where she’d be authorized to perform surgery. The Lighthouse Children’s Hospital was merely ten minutes away, and Princess Catherine’s was beautifully placed alongside the Thames with magnificent views from most patients’ rooms.

      Lexi was a natural conversationalist so Grace didn’t feel pressured to talk much.

      “If you’d like, we’re meeting for drinks at Drake’s wine bar after work tonight,” she said. “I’m bringing pictures of my dream dress for my wedding day. Now all I have to do is find a way to pay for it!” She laughed.

      “Well, I can’t miss that, now, can I?” Thinking about the pristine and lonely apartment, Grace agreed to meet at the wine bar, as Lexi had described it.

      “Great. We’ll go together.” They got into an elevator with a glass wall to allow the full view of the river Thames all the way down. “Oh, and the shoes I’ve got in mind are to die for. Of course, I might have to pawn the ring to buy both.” She beamed and poofed her hair.

      Grace smiled, adoring the lady’s spirit.

      Before she left the hospital, Grace met the man who’d be the lead surgical nurse on her team, Ron Whidbey, a middle-aged man of African descent who’d been born and raised in England.

      Her first case—reconstructing a face, status post-cancer resection—was one that Mitchell would be involved in as well, as the twenty-five-year-old woman would need new lips. Apparently, that was his specialty. As for herself, she’d concentrate on reconstructing the nose and cheeks and recreating a philtrum in preparation for Mitchell’s side of the operation.

      Tomorrow, during surgery, she’d be so focused on her patient she’d probably not even notice Mitchell was there. A girl could hope anyway.

      After a long discussion with Ron about what instruments and setup she preferred and how she liked to approach reconstructive surgery, she felt they were both on the same page and had a firm understanding of how it would be working together. He promised to meet her in O.R. Six at Kate’s, as the locals liked to call Princess Catherine’s, at 6:00 a.m. sharp with the room set up and ready to go per her orders. Then off he went to have a meeting with his nursing team.

      At 6:00 p.m., having not seen hide nor hair of Mitchell for the rest of the day, Grace heard a tap at her door. It was Lexi, keeping her promise to take her to Drake’s wine bar, at the Regent’s Park end of Harley Street. Within fifteen minutes she was sitting in what resembled a classic Victorian chamber with crystal chandeliers and overstuffed benches and booths, amidst dark colors and dim lights.

      Surrounded by several of her new colleagues, she’d been served a glass of crisp, unoaked Chardonnay, and as happy as a lark she munched on crackers, cheese puffs, veggies with hummus dip and mixed nuts.

      Across from her, Lexi’s fiancé, Iain, a fellow reconstructive surgeon who’d been working at the Hunter Clinic for the last few years, draped his long, muscular arm about Lexi’s hip and the woman seemed to no longer need a drink. Several of the nursing staff were also there. A chestnut-haired woman sidled her way between Edward North, the stiff but gifted micro-surgeon, and another nursing colleague, then introduced herself to Grace as Charlotte. They chatted about the weather and the surgeries the clinic undertook. Since Grace had been watching and waiting for Mitchell to show up, she said a little prayer of thanks for the welcome distraction with Charlotte.

      Next, Lexi gathered all the ladies at one end of the bar. Grace joined them.

      “Look what I’ve got.” Lexi whipped out a picture of a divine designer dress torn from a fashion magazine. “Isn’t it gorgeous? This is what I intend to wear the day I get married.”

      A couple of nurses squealed over the dress. Charlotte was one of them. Grace had to admit the pink chiffon with ribbon waistband and decorative sequins was a sight to behold. She glanced at Lexi, who was transfixed, along with the nurses. She obviously liked pink, judging by the dress she’d worn today, and pink was certainly her color.

      “Now the only problem is hunting down a good knockoff because there’s no way on earth I can afford this one.”

      “If anyone can do it, you can, Lexi,” Charlotte said.

      Grace smiled. “Good luck. Something tells me you’ll find your dream dress at the right price.”

      “From your lips to the shopping goddess’s ears,” Lexi said. Once she’d put the picture away, the nurses went off to the ladies room, and Grace followed Lexi back to the Hunter Clinic corner of the bar.

      Glancing around the extremely attractive group of people, Grace thought good looks might be part of the job requirement to be employed at Hunter Clinic, but then wondered why she’d been hired.

      Though the clinic group seemed tight knit, they went out of their way to make her feel a part of things. She’d just about finished her drink and was feeling relaxed, and as she was performing surgery in the morning decided she wouldn’t have another. She asked the server to bring her a glass of water and just as she looked up, in walked Mitchell. Their eyes locked briefly, long enough to set off flutters in her chest, and he went straightaway to the bar to order a drink.

      Every time she saw him her heart stumbled over beats. How could a guy like that not be involved with anyone? She watched the door for a lady to follow him inside, but no one came. Just about the time her water arrived, and another Hunter Clinic surgeon named Declan Underwood was deep into explaining rugby to her, Mitch swaggered up with a beer in hand.

      “Evening, all,” he said.

      Everyone called out some greeting or other.

      “Lips!” Iain said, and Grace wondered if it bothered Mitch to have such a nickname, though she did understand men loved to gibe each other like that. In fact, in her psychology classes in med school she’d learned that kind of behavior was a sign of affection—something most men would never be caught dead admitting.

      She found it hard to concentrate and simply nodded hello when Mitch approached.

      “May I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the barely six inches of padded bench next to her.

      “Of course,” she said, scooting closer to Lexi. Avoiding Mitchell Cooper was out of the question now, so she decided to get used to it right off. Crammed in next to her, she felt the warmth radiate from his body, and caught the scent of the same tangy, expensive aftershave that had lingered in the cab the other night. What should she do now?

      “How was your first day?” he said.

      “Fine. After the shock wore off.”

      He caught his lower lip with his teeth and nodded. “There’s a lot of names and faces to put together,” he said, not letting on he’d understood her true meaning of “shock,” which had nothing to do with meeting the staff.

      “Yes. СКАЧАТЬ