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“Grace, meet Mitchell Cooper.”
Mustering every ounce of poise she owned, Grace stood and stretched out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mitchell.”
He accepted her proffered hand and shook it. “The pleasure’s all mine. Welcome to Harley Street.” Quick memories of how she’d squeezed his hand in the cab, just before he’d bussed her cheek, caught her off guard.
A large cat must have hovered over the office, taking their tongues as heavy silence overtook the room. Leo glanced between the two of them, as if trying to figure out what had just happened. “Do you two already know each other?”
“No!” they said in unison, exchanging surreptitious glances.
Leo didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press it. “Well, I’ll leave you alone to get acquainted, then. You can talk Dodger dogs and touchdowns, or whatever it is Americans …” His voice trailed off as he headed for the door then turned on his heel. “We’ve got some major cases coming in and we’ll be utilizing your skills and talents right off, Grace. I’ve left the first one on your desk.” He glanced at Mitchell. “And I think you’ll make a great team on the Cumberbatch case, too.” Then he was off.
The silence grew nearly deafening as Grace stared at Mitch in disbelief, not knowing whether to be happy or regretful that she’d seen him again. What if he was in a serious relationship with someone, and he’d strayed a little last night? How awkward. From the caution in his eyes, Grace settled on the regretful side of the scale.
“Look,” he said, “I had no idea you were our new surgeon.” He grabbed his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have put things together.”
“I didn’t offer any information either.”
“I should have asked, but I got this crazy idea about having a minivacation with Madam X.” He made air quotes with his fingers around the name. “For crying out loud, I apologize.” He looked seriously sorry, too.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I had fun. I don’t know about you, but I did, anyway.” She leaned against the edge of her desk.
“Yes. Of course it was fun. But the thing is, I never would have treated you that way if I’d known you were the new team member.”
“Then I’m glad you didn’t know.”
“It’s just bad business on my part. Bad form.” His hands rested on his trim hips. She couldn’t help but notice.
He wore a starched white shirt and blue Paisley-patterned tie to complement his navy slacks. His knee-length doctor’s coat covered all of his best parts, as she recalled—the wide shoulders and strong arms—arms that had lifted her nearly over the fence without effort.
“Stop it,” she said. “We did what we did. Now we forget about it and get professional. That’s all. It’s not like we had sex or anything.”
An impish gleam entered his wonderfully green eyes. Thank goodness he remembered the fun they’d had. “But we’re pod people. Young adventurers. How do we forget that?”
She couldn’t help it. He’d tried to lighten the mood and successfully made her laugh. Were all women like putty in his hands? “Stop it.”
She searched for something and ineptly threw a piece of paper from her desk at him. A sorry weapon, it floated nowhere near where he stood. He pretended to dodge it anyway. “But I suppose we’ll always have that.” She fought back the urge to laugh more, liking him for bringing it up.
He raised and dropped his brows. “Just two peas in a pod.”
That did it. She sputtered a laugh, and he joined her. “Stop it, I said.”
He shook his head, looking chagrined. “I broke up with you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. “Do you realize I had the audacity to pick you up in a pod, nearly get you arrested in a public playground, buy you dinner on a barstool, then send you home in a cab, hardly explaining why I could never see you again? I’m an idiot. What in the hell must you think of me?”
She wanted to say she’d thought about him the rest of the night. She’d thought about him as she’d showered and dressed for work today, too, and the word idiot had never come into the mix. But she knew better.
They needed to forget their extraordinary night out and move on to reality. They were colleagues now. They’d have to see each other every day, and it was never a good idea to get involved with a coworker, especially in such a small clinic like this. They needed to keep their distance from each other, leave well enough alone. It was so obvious.
Just because he’d said he was divorced last night, it didn’t mean he was a free man. He probably had half a dozen kids he needed to divide all of his spare time among. But look at that, he was staring at her legs, and since she’d worn a high-waisted pencil skirt, there was plenty of leg to stare at. She crossed her ankles and pretended not to notice.
He’d sent her home in that cab for a good reason, and there was no point in dredging it up now. “What I think of you doesn’t matter any more because we’re colleagues and I’ve already had my first case assigned to me. From now on we’re strictly business. Okay?”
It was safe, too, since she’d never shown her scars to a man who wasn’t one of her doctors. Except for her ex-fiancé, and what a disaster that had turned out to be. How could she possibly venture into a relationship with anyone, no matter how well and easily they got along, when no man would ever want her. Boy, she’d certainly jumped ahead…. What was it about Mitchell Cooper that made her want to?
His tentative expression turned thoughtful. He was obviously working through the steps on how to undo a perfectly wonderful evening with a woman he’d never expected to see again but who was now his office mate, too. “Okay. Makes sense. Strictly business partners. Got it. Probably for the best anyway.”
She spotted that same look he’d left her with last night, and she’d interpreted it—projected her own feelings into it—as regret. That truly was how she felt, and that’s how life was sometimes—loaded with regret. And secrets best not shared.
He took her hand and shook again. “Nice to meet you, Grace Turner. If you need any ‘strictly professional’ help, I’ll be right next door.” With that, he turned and left.
Mitch wanted to kick the hallway wall. He’d botched up a perfectly good partnership, making his new colleague feel uncomfortable and regretting ever having laid eyes on him. The thing was, he’d really, really liked her, and it had taken every last kernel of restraint not to ask for her phone number last night, even though on the surface she wasn’t the kind of mommy material he had in mind.
But as always, before he’d been able to get the words out, the pain he’d endured from his wife choosing his best friend over him had strangled the thought out of him. He needed to forget about women for a while, especially beautiful women, and focus on what mattered most in his life—his daughter, Mia, and his job.
Some flaw in his ex’s self-esteem had turned her into a plastic-surgery addict, even though she’d been beautiful to begin with. Now he hardly recognized her doll-like appearance. And he was damned if he’d let that weakness be a constant example for his Mia. He’d moved as far away as possible four years ago, once they’d divorced and Christie had given him full custody of their daughter.
Those were the things he needed to focus on—his reason for being at this clinic, and for moving to London. A better life for Mia. Not the beautiful and fun-loving Grace Turner next door. A man was an idiot if he didn’t learn from his mistakes.
He plopped into his desk chair and tried desperately to get her crystal-blue eyes and especially her gorgeous mouth out of his mind. Damn. And after several moments of wrestling with his thoughts, he resolved to keep Grace at arm’s length. For his own good.
He’d given up beautiful women, had only dated stable potential-mother material after his first failed relationship on moving to London four years ago. He’d gotten himself involved too soon with one of the Hunter Clinic nurses right off. That had turned into a disaster with the nurse leaving the clinic rather than work with him once they’d broken up. So far 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. That’s for sure.” How inane could their conversation get? It had flowed so easily last night, when they’d been strangers. She longed for the clock to turn back twenty-four hours.
He reached for a handful of nuts and crammed them in his mouth. So much for continuing the conversation.
Lexi appeared in front of them. “Iain and I are leaving early,” she said to Grace.
From the way the couple had had their hands all over each other, Grace didn’t need to be told the reason why they wanted to leave early. She smiled.
“Can we drop you off?” Iain asked.
Grace waited for Mitchell to offer to take her home, but after half a beat, when he hadn’t volunteered, she stood.
“Thanks, I’d love that,” she said. “Good night, everybody. It was great to meet all of you.”
“You’ll see everyone else at Friday’s staff meeting,” someone called out, but she was so distracted by Mitch and now her leaving that she wasn’t even sure who’d said it.
“See you in surgery tomorrow, Mitchell.”
He nodded.
Everyone else smiled and cheered her off, while Mitchell still chomped on his mouthful of mixed nuts, watching, looking clueless and disinterested, and nothing like the adventurous pod person she’d met last night. At least he’d kept his word—from now on theirs would be a strictly business relationship.
The next morning, at a quarter to six, Grace scrubbed in. It was a process she preferred to do by herself, since the short-sleeved scrub top revealed a large portion of her scars. But gowning was different. She needed help to do it properly. Grace caught the quick, surprised glimpse in the scrub nurse’s eyes as she helped her don the sterile gown and gloves, and tried to act as if nothing was unusual.
Once her mask was in place, she used her shoulder to push the plate for the automatic door opener to the surgical suite. Happy to make eye contact with Ron right off, she saw him nod, and from the squint of his dark eyes above the mask, she knew he smiled beneath.
She assessed her O.R. A quick check of the instruments satisfied her strict stipulations. The anesthesiologist began to put the mildly sedated patient completely under right after Grace had introduced herself. Two nurses were on hand to assist with the operation, and once she’d done the lion’s share of the surgery, Mitchell would step in to create the actual lips for the young woman. She hadn’t seen him this morning, but had been told he was on the premises and would wait to enter the O.R. until needed. It relieved Grace, knowing he wouldn’t be looking over her shoulder. She couldn’t allow a single distraction in her O.R.
Cancer had claimed most of the patient’s face, and after the dermatologist had made wide resections of the mass, very little was left of her nose or upper lip. It broke Grace’s heart, suspecting the twenty-five-year-old patient felt more like a monster than human with a hole for her nose, and gums showing where her upper lip should have been. When Grace had first been burned, before the multiple skin grafts, she’d felt like a monster, too. Her job today was to put the woman back together again. The young woman’s face would never look as it once had, but at least she’d have a face she wouldn’t be ashamed to show in public.
Grace would have to borrow cartilage from her ears to rebuild portions of the bridge and nose tip, and take bilateral transpositional flaps from her cheeks to cover the nose, reconstruct the natural curvature of the nasal rim, and create the missing upper lip. After she’d finished the general rebuilding, Mitchell would make a more natural-looking mouth by using treated fat transfer from the patient’s abdomen.
“Let’s give Julie Treadwell a beautiful new face, shall we?” she said. Everyone present nodded. “Scalpel,” she said, then made her first incision.
An hour and a half later, up to her elbows in blood, cartilage and skin flaps, one lone straggler entered the O.R. She knew it wasn’t the circulating nurse, because she hadn’t requested anything. She’d just made two small labial folds on either side of the nose flap, and had asked for the small curved needle and sutures to stitch everything in place.
She glanced up. It was him.
Knowing Mitch Cooper was there made her hand tense slightly, but only for a brief second. The patient deserved one hundred percent of her attention. She waited until she’d recovered her concentration to put the finishing touches on her portion of this two-stage surgery.
When she’d finished, she handed the patient over to Mitch then prepared to step outside to watch him work his wonders.
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