200 Harley Street: The Tortured Hero Read online

  He turned to reassure her. ‘Of course Olivia will be there,’ he said, smiling at her before turning back to Ama. ‘I seem to remember she was an excellent surgeon and I have every faith she’s only got better.’

  Olivia, who’d been nervous of Ethan’s answer, relaxed. ‘I have,’ she said with a smile for Ama’s benefit.

  She’d assured Ama she would be there with her the whole time, and even if Ama was asleep and not aware of her being there Olivia intended to honour her promise.

  The questions went back and forth for a while longer and Olivia was impressed that Ethan was prepared to sit and answer every one—not hurrying, just being thorough, which was an exercise in patience when the whole process took twice as long with an interpreter.

  When the questions seemed exhausted Ethan looked at the little girl and hoped he’d won her trust enough for his next request. He was conscious of what Olivia had told him last night—conscious that Ama’s trust of men, particularly those in authority, must be very shaky.

  But he really did need to examine the operative area a little more closely. He’d been careful not to leap into that too early, but he wanted to do some computer modelling over the weekend so it was important to be able to assess the current state of the oral cavity, the health of the mucosa and gums—something an MRI couldn’t tell him.

  He turned back to face Olivia. He needed her help now. ‘I was hoping that Ama might let me have a look inside her mouth now?’ he said. He looked at Ama. ‘What do you say?’

  Olivia took her cue as Dali spoke to Ama. She moved to the opposite side of the bed from Ethan, perched herself on the mattress and took Ama’s hand with an encouraging smile for both her and her mother.

  ‘Ethan’s going to use a special light, like I was telling you,’ Olivia said, ‘to have a look inside your mouth so he gets the operation right.’

  Ama started to look apprehensive and Olivia gave her hand a squeeze. ‘It’s okay. It won’t hurt, and Mum and I and Dali will all be right here with you.’

  Ama looked from Ethan to Olivia then back again, in that solemn way of hers with her big brown eyes. That look always broke Olivia’s heart. Ama had eyes that had already seen too much heartache and suffering for one so young.

  ‘See?’ Ethan said, pulling a small pen torch out of his pocket and flicking it on, placing it in Ama’s hand for her to get a feel for its harmlessness.

  Ama looked down at the instrument. She turned it over in her hands and then turned it so the light shone directly in her eyes. She squinted and pulled the light away. She turned to look at her mother, then back at the torch, shining it in her face again. This time she squinted and gave a nervous giggle.

  ‘This is what you’ll look like,’ Ethan said, taking the torch out of her hand, opening his mouth, placing the lit end against his cheek and then closing it again. His cheek glowed an eerie red and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

  This time Ama laughed. As did Ril and Dali. Olivia’s throat tightened at his ease with Ama, and for a moment she was transported back to the old days, when the torch-in-the-mouth thing had been one of their favourite games to play with the kids at the Lighthouse.

  His bedside manner had always been second to none.

  ‘See?’ he said pulling it out, then wiping it over with an antiseptic wipe. ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’

  Ama pointed to Olivia and said something in her own language. Neither of them needed an interpreter to understand her meaning.

  Olivia huffed out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes as she held out her hand for the torch. ‘If you insist,’ she griped good-naturedly.

  Ethan winked at her as he placed it in her open palm. His fingers brushed lightly against her and a little spark of heat ran up her arm. She glanced at him and wondered if he felt it too, but he was smiling at Ama.

  Olivia flicked the torch on and popped it in her mouth. The acrid taste of antiseptic was bitter on her tongue but she ignored it, pushing the light into the mucosa of her cheek and closing her mouth around her. Her cheek dutifully glowed red and Ama laughed louder this time.

  ‘Dali. Dali,’ Ama said in her guttural accent, and Ethan laughed knowing there was going to be no quick way of doing this as both Dali and then Ril were also subjected to the trick, the torch being cleaned in between.

  Consequently, when it came to the examination Ama submitted happily. Ethan was pleased to note that the oral mucosa looked relatively healthy and he took a few seconds to assess and familiarise himself with some of the landmarks he’d noted in the MRI.

  But then the fun part came, when Olivia found a mirror and they spent ages flashing the light on and off inside Ama’s unaffected cheek. Every time her cheek glowed red she laughed as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. It was sobering to think that, sadly, in Ama’s case it probably was.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Ethan smiled. ‘I’ve got to go but I’ll be in to see you...’ he waggled his fingers at Ama and the girl giggled ‘...every day.’

  Ama reluctantly surrendered the torch, holding it out to him, but Ethan shook his head. ‘It’s a gift for you. Enjoy.’

  Ama’s eyes widened as Dali relayed the message and Olivia felt a wave of goose bumps march over her skin as Ama hugged it to her chest.

  Olivia followed Ethan out through the door as he departed. She wanted to get the apology off her chest straight away. A bit like he had last night.

  ‘Thanks so much for that,’ she said as they both watched Ama from the doorway, smiling as she flicked the light on and off and shone it on everything. ‘Anyone would think you just gave her the sun.’

  Ethan shrugged. Olivia was wearing a pair of snug jeans again today, and a fine woollen sweater that fell nicely against all the flesh beneath. It wasn’t helping his resolve to keep his hands off. He’d thought about his rekindling sexual attraction to her a lot last night, and probably limiting their alone time together was wise.

  ‘Plenty more where that came from,’ he said.

  Olivia nodded. She knew that drug reps alone kept doctors endlessly supplied with such knick-knacks. ‘Well, you made her day.’

  Hell, given where Ama came from, he’d probably made her entire life! She doubted the girl had ever received too many gifts of such a magical calibre.

  Ethan cleared his throat as they both watched Ama continue to play with her new toy. ‘About last night—’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Olivia said, quickly cutting him off as she turned to face him. ‘Let me.’

  Ethan eyed her warily. ‘Let you what?’

  ‘Apologise,’ she said.

  Ethan folded his arms. ‘Liv...I was the one who kissed you, remember? After I’d just promised I wouldn’t go there.’

  Olivia shook her head, trying to shrug off the way he said her name and how it heated all the old familiar places. Unfortunately the way the fabric of his scrubs pulled around his shoulders and biceps didn’t help with the heat problem.

  With her heart already fluttering, and her cheeks already flushed at the delicate subject matter, heat was the last thing she needed.

  The memory of the kiss sat between them like a big guilty secret, and she’d rather crawl over an acre of glass than have to discuss the way they’d erred last night—like a couple of kids sent to the naughty corner by their parents to talk over their behaviour. She was a grown woman and it was an embarrassing discussion to be having.

  But she couldn’t let him take the fall for it either.

  She needed to own her part in it.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t exactly stop you. I was as much to blame. Probably even more so if you consider my never, ever carry-on at the bar. I should have pulled back straight away. I should have...slapped your face,’ she said, trying to make a joke to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

  Much to her relief, Ethan ek
ed out a half-smile. ‘It’s fine,’ he dismissed. ‘How about we both take equal responsibility and agree that being alone together is probably something we should avoid?’

  Olivia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She returned his half-smile with one of her own. ‘That sounds like a good plan.’

  Ethan nodded. ‘Okay, then.’

  ‘So... I take it I’m still okay to scrub in on some of your surgeries, though? I’m really keen to do what I can while I’m here, and now Ama and her mother are settled they’re probably sick of the sight of me.’

  Ethan grunted. He doubted that. Ama and Ril’s faces lit up like a city skyline whenever Olivia entered the room. Given what she’d done for them, he didn’t blame them.

  He remembered a time when she’d made him light up too. When he’d felt more for her than he’d ever anticipated.

  But he had to admit to being curious about how Olivia had developed as a surgeon. And they could always do with more help.

  The clinic’s humanitarian programme ran on a tight budget—it had to when billing charities was involved. Having a third surgeon in an op was sometimes necessary—as it would be with Ama and other big cases—but usually not.

  It was certainly not a luxury they could afford.

  And Ethan didn’t believe in wasting money—too much of that went on in charity circles as it was. The Hunter Clinic was opulent and wealthy, and the programme was lucky to have the free use of it and all its associated services—including the pro bono time of any of its surgeons.

  But the charities involved paid for all the extra stuff that the Hunter Clinic couldn’t provide—including any outside surgeons—and Ethan didn’t believe in running up their bills like that unless it was completely necessary.

  But Olivia was free. And a free surgeon was a gift he wasn’t about to knock back.

  ‘I have a big burn contracture release tomorrow. I could use an extra pair of hands with it.’

  A little trill of excitement ran through Olivia at the thought of being back at the table again. It had been a few months since she’d picked up a scalpel and she’d missed it.

  ‘Sounds great.’

  Ethan nodded. ‘I’ll be able to introduce you to some of the team that will be working on Ama’s op next week as well. Kara Stephens is helping me out tomorrow. She’s a junior surgeon—another Aussie who’s a real go-getter and has wanted in on Ama’s surgery ever since she heard the first whisper about it. And Jock McNamara is the anaesthetist on my list in the morning and I want him for Ama’s surgery. He does a lot of anaesthetics for the facio-maxillary ops and really knows his stuff.’

  ‘It’ll be great to meet some of the team,’ Olivia enthused.

  ‘Good,’ Ethan said. ‘List starts at eight-thirty at Princess Catherine’s.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  There was an awkward moment when they both paused, waiting for the other to say something and then both realising simultaneously that the silence was growing.

  ‘Right, then...’ Ethan said. ‘See you tomorrow, Liv.’

  Olivia felt the emotional whammy again of what had been a very intimate connection between them. Liv had been the name he’d called her behind closed doors. The name he’d chanted in her ear as he moved deep inside her. The named he’d cried out as he came.

  She couldn’t be Olivia Fairchild if he reverted to Liv all the time. Olivia was a capable paediatric reconstructive surgeon. Olivia was a compassionate doctor who had put her skills and her heart on the line in Africa. Olivia was the director of Fair Go.

  Liv was Ethan’s friend. His confidante. His lover.

  Liv was the woman who knew the depths of his pain and anger.

  Liv was the woman who had loved him.

  ‘Ethan.’

  Her quiet call stopped him in his tracks and Ethan turned to face her. She hadn’t moved from the spot in the hallway where he’d left her. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Please don’t call me Liv...’ she murmured.

  He was tall and dark and handsome and she wanted to run straight into his arms. Being here, in this hospital with him, stirred too many memories. Unfortunately none of the bad ones. None of the things that had broken her.

  ‘It’s too...hard...it’s too...familiar.’

  Ethan nodded slowly. A heat unfurled inside his gut and travelled south. He hadn’t even realised he’d said it. The name—the endearment—had come from somewhere way back in the past. From memories rich with laughter. And spoiled by the callousness of his youth.

  If he was going to cling to Aaliyah, to the welcome familiarity of his grief and guilt, then Liv could not exist.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I didn’t realise...’

  Olivia nodded. ‘I know.’

  Ethan regarded her for a moment or two. ‘I don’t want this any more than you do, Olivia. I can’t.’

  She could tell from the dullness of his eyes that he was telling the truth. That his body was betraying him as much as hers was betraying her.

  Remember that, stupid foolish heart—he doesn’t want this. Neither do you.

  ‘I know,’ she said again.

  They didn’t say anything for a moment, and then Ethan said, ‘See you in the morning,’ and turned away.

  Olivia watched him go, acutely aware of the contrast between a happy Ama to one side of her and the stoic set of Ethan’s receding back to the other.

  His choice of words intrigued her. I can’t. ‘Can’t’ implied more than a conflict of choice. ‘Can’t’ implied something out of his control. Had he meant that? Or had it just been a slip of the tongue?

  And if he had meant it, what exactly did it mean? Did it mean that he actually wasn’t able to? Wasn’t capable? Emotionally? Or had something happened to him physically on one of his tours? Maybe his injuries were more extensive than just his legs?

  Could ‘can’t’ mean that he wasn’t able to perform sexually any more?

  And why on earth would he think any woman worth her salt would give a damn about it?

  Olivia gave herself a mental shake. What did it matter? She wasn’t here to get involved in his life. To commiserate about any long-term effects of his war wounds or to kiss him better.

  She was here for Fair Go. She was here for Ama.

  And Ama was just one of the many kids she planned to bring to the UK for surgery. Several had already benefited, thanks to Fair Go and the generosity of the Hunter Clinic.

  And that was what she needed to concentrate on.

  Running a charity was a big freaking deal, involving serious money and financial responsibility, and she couldn’t afford to drop the ball because some guy from a million years ago—who had, by the way, ground her heart into the dirt—looked at her with shadows in his eyes and called her Liv.

  Ethan Hunter was a big boy who’d had his chance with her and blown it.

  She wasn’t his Liv any longer.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ETHAN WAS SCRUBBING up at the sinks in the scrub room the next morning when Olivia bustled through the door.

  ‘God, I’m so sorry,’ she said, barely acknowledging him as she pulled up beside him and reached over to remove a mask out of the nearby box, tying it on in record time. ‘I underestimated the time it would take me to get here, and the streets...’

  She shook her head as she wrenched off her opal ring and shoved it into the pocket of her scrub trousers.

  ‘I don’t remember them being this busy ten years ago.’

  She opened a sterile packaged scrub brush and flicked on the taps, wetting her arms from the fingertips to the elbows. She turned to look at him as her right hand attacked the nails on her left hand with the brush. She knew the scrub routine back to front and could do it blindfolded.

 
‘When did it get so busy?’

  Ethan blinked. Olivia had always been a chatter. Her ability to fill up a silence or engage a total stranger with her intelligent observations on any subject was one of the things that had drawn them together in the first place. She’d always blamed it on her single child status, remarking that chatter had been her defence against loneliness.

  Certainly their stilted, awkward conversations over the past few days had been well out of character.

  But she was in fine form this morning.

  ‘It’s London,’ he said, smiling beneath his mask. ‘The streets have always been busy.’

  Olivia conceded his point as she turned back to inspect her work. A large window in front of them gave them direct visual access to the Theatre and Olivia noted that the patient was already on the table and was being draped.

  She switched the scrubbing brush to the other hand. ‘Well, it’s a far cry from Africa, that’s for sure.’

  ‘True. Not a lot of giraffes in London,’ he remarked dryly.

  To his surprise she laughed. A laugh that came straight from her soul and ruffled the edges of a hundred different memories. Having her beside him like this again, in scrubs and a mask, her expressive eyes dominating—it was as if they’d never been apart.

  It felt comfortable. Like old times.

  As it could have always been if he hadn’t been so angry and vengeful, so damn determined to lash out.

  So he did the only thing he could do to distract himself from futile games of what if. He started talking about the case.

  ‘Our patient today, Daleel, is a twenty-eight-year-old Somali man who suffered burns five years ago to over forty per cent of his body. Frankly, how he survived I’ll never know, because he only had the most rudimentary of medical care.’

  Olivia nodded. It was something she’d seen over and over during her time on the front line and working with various aid organisations in conjunction with Fair Go. Men, women and children who survived against all the odds—like Ama—but who were left permanently and hideously disfigured with absolutely no hope of leading a normal life.