200 Harley Street: American Surgeon in London. Lynne Marshall

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СКАЧАТЬ the other side of the pod, that single figure taking a second trip gazed outside. Something about him drew her to his side of the pod. From behind, he had broad shoulders that filled out his tuxedo perfectly, and rich brown hair that kissed the collar on his shirt. He seemed closer to her age than the others, too. He leaned against the rail, shoulder to the glass, arms folded, deep in thought. She took a tentative step closer, not invading his privacy but close enough to see his profile.

      Wow. The man was nothing short of gorgeous, with a high forehead, strong brows and jaw, a nose that could be claimed perfect if it wasn’t for the attractive bump on the bridge. The decisive cleft in his chin was almost overkill. Speaking strictly as a reconstructive surgeon, this guy was a natural work of art. Even the shell of his ear was attractive.

      She’d never been one to swoon over looks, especially in her line of work, when she knew people could alter their appearances to be more perfect looking, but this man in all his glory elicited chill bumps. Tingles danced along the skin of her arms and up the back of her neck as he awakened something inside her, long forgotten.

      She took in a slow breath to steady herself. Perhaps it was the fact the pod had reached a point where she realized she’d soon be dangling from a height almost twice that of the Statue of Liberty that made her knees weaken. She snuck another glance at him and reached for the rail.

      There was something more than pure handsomeness in this man. Something about his brooding, the tight upper lip and mildly pouting lower lip, how lost in his thoughts he seemed. There was something about his dissatisfaction about God only knew what that drew her in. Unfortunately, she’d always been a sucker for brooders. And she was definitely drawn to his contemplation, against her will maybe, but will seemed to have nothing to do with it. She couldn’t stop herself from staring.

      He was a perfectly made man who, from the expression on his face, seemed perfectly miserable, and that was the part that touched her most—it made him someone she could relate to.

      “Hi,” she said to him, surprising herself, but what the hell, if she was going to spend the next half hour dangling above the Thames, she may as well be talking to the handsomest man she’d ever laid her eyes on. Who knew? Regardless of the millions of people who’d already ridden it safely, something could go wrong on the Eye tonight. For all she knew, this might be the last thirty minutes of her life.

      Wouldn’t it be smart to spend those last minutes staring into the most intense eyes she’d ever seen?

      Grace smiled to herself, thinking she’d officially turned into a fatalistic drama queen. Apparently the handsome stranger’s doom and gloom had rubbed off on her.

      This was the last place Mitch Cooper wanted to be tonight, but Leo had needed someone to cover for him while he and Lizzie were seeing a travel agent about their upcoming honeymoon in Paris. Between Leo and this highly sought-after travel agent’s schedules, the appointment landed at eight o’clock on a Sunday night.

      The black-tie affair had been on the calendar long before Leo had finally seen the light and popped the question to the head nurse at the Hunter Clinic. Though the newly marrieds had put off their honeymoon until the summer, he understood the guy needed an extra night off duty every now and again.

      Mitch would rather be home, reading a good-night book to Mia. Sure, Roberta was there, but no nanny could replace a father’s love—or a mother’s.

      He braced himself for more nights like these, since Leo had asked his surgeons to step in and help with the multiple and necessary social functions and fund-raisers related to the Hunter Clinic. Especially now that Leo had gotten married, he’d want a life away from the clinic and that meant the rest of them attending more events. And as a team player, Mitch would do his share.

      After all, the clinic with the wealthy donors who kept things running for the sake of those in need, not to mention the eternally nipping-and-tucking plastics patients, was everyone’s bread and butter. If he wanted to stake out a new life for himself in London, and provide the kind of life he dreamed of for his daughter, this small price to pay wasn’t so bad.

      Tonight he’d rubbed elbows with as many guests as humanly possible. He’d made the rounds, done his duty and had now decided to sneak off and take in the view one more time before heading home. He’d have to bring Mia here one day. She’d love it.

      He really did love London, especially after dark, and most especially after leaving Hollywood and all the bad memories behind.

      Someone spoke—a woman. He dragged himself out of his dark thoughts, which always managed at quiet times like these to circle back to his ex-wife and best friend.

      “Hi,” he said robotically, looking straight ahead. “Enjoying yourself?” Then, back on duty and clicking into host mode, he actually glanced at the person to his left.

      Time slowed as he took in the strikingly beautiful woman. Large and inquisitive pale eyes, enhanced by dark eyeliner and curtained by thick bangs, stared expectantly at him. Having never seen her before, because he’d definitely remember this face if he had, he assumed she was a wealthy donor.

      With no sign of plastic surgery or Botox injections, she smiled naturally, with fine crinkles beside her eyes and mouth. Her cheeks grew more prominent, and that sweet little mouth with meticulously applied pink lipstick stretched into a serene smile. The sight of such a lovely face buoyed his spirits nearly to the height of the pod.

      Could he be so superficial, letting natural beauty grab him like this? Yes, and his broken marriage proved it. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? “Have you been to the London Eye before?”

      She shook her head of dark hair—half of it piled high on her crown and with a shiny barrette meant for nothing more than show, something his daughter might wear—the rest of the hair dropping in waves around her neck. “I’m new in town.”

      Probably here for some plastic-surgery work since tonight’s guests were by invitation only. All the beautiful women he’d ever known thought of plastic surgery as their little beauty secret. Maybe he could talk her out of whatever procedure she’d come to have. Why mess with genuine perfection? God, he hoped she didn’t plan to change her lips. They were just fine as they were, with the classically shaped Cupid’s-bow upper lip and the plump lower mate. Bigger was not always better, and lip jobs never looked completely natural, in his opinion. Even under his skilled hands.

      “If you’re new in town, then I guess I need to be a gentleman and point out a few landmarks, don’t I?”

      She continued to smile and her expression changed to one of playfulness. “Definitely. By the way, I notice you’re American, too.”

      He nodded. “I’m from California originally. How about you?”

      “Arizona.”

      Didn’t they have highly acclaimed plastic surgery clinics in Scottsdale? Maybe, as Scottsdale could be a tight-knit small town, she didn’t want anyone to know she was undergoing a procedure. Maybe she’d told everyone she was going on vacation, and when she went home she’d look amazingly well rested. Who knew? Who cared? Maybe he should quit reading so many sleuth novels and stop assuming the worst about women.

      Right now, he’d grab a moment for himself and enjoy it with … what was her name?

      “I’m Mitchell, by the way, and you are?”

      “Grace. Nice to meet you.”

      Yes, СКАЧАТЬ