200 Harley Street: The Tortured Hero Read online

  ‘His right arm is fused to his torso, his right hand is badly contractured, and the severe scarring of his face and neck have led to a contracture that’s pulling his whole head into a downward flexion.’

  Ethan, at the end of his scrub, held his bent soapy arms out in front of him, hands up, elbows down, and dunked them under the spray tap. He watched as the water sluiced from his fingertips down his arms and dripped suds off his elbows into the sink.

  ‘Think you can handle it?’ he asked. The soap was all gone now, and he flicked the tap off with an elbow, then held his arms over the sink a little longer, waiting for his elbows to stop dripping.

  ‘I think so,’ Olivia said.

  He glanced at her and for a moment their gazes met over the top of their masks and the sense of familiarity returned. Ethan straightened. ‘See you in there,’ he murmured.

  Olivia was conscious of him in her peripheral vision, his sterile arms out in front of him, using his back to push open the swing doors. Then through the glass window she saw him emerge into the Theatre, hands still up and out from his body, striding towards the scrub nurse who was already masked, gowned and gloved and holding out a sterile towel for him to dry his hands.

  She continued her scrub, watching Ethan go through the familiar routine of gowning and gloving. She’d never known a man to look so damn good in what was essentially a no-frills dress. The plainness of it just seemed to emphasise the broadness of his chest and the length of his frame. Some women got off on men who wore Armani suits. But she much preferred a man in Theatre garb.

  And damn if Ethan didn’t rock a pair of scrubs.

  He chose that moment to glance up from checking the tray of instruments that had been placed near the patient, and their gazes locked as he looked directly at her. Olivia blushed, grateful for the camouflage of the mask. Had he been able to read her less than professional thoughts?

  Was he remembering her fetish for a man in scrubs?

  Did he remember that time she’d admitted to the erotic dream she’d had about him, involving an examination table, some handcuffs, a pair of scrubs and the very inventive use of a scalpel for removing said scrubs from his otherwise naked body?

  They never did get round to enacting that particular fantasy...

  The other surgeon—what had Ethan said her name was?—leaned in obliviously, asking him a question, and Olivia quickly dropped her gaze.

  What the hell was she doing?

  She was here to help give a man his life back. Not to have completely inappropriate, unprofessional and graphic thoughts about a highly respected surgeon.

  Olivia dunked her arms under the water, watching the soapy residue disappear down the drain, and hoped to God her erotic thoughts would follow.

  * * *

  Ethan entered Drake’s the following Tuesday night with a spring in his step—not exactly easy to do with his limp. Tomorrow was Ama’s operation and everyone at the clinic was psyched about it. The team was in place and raring to go, Kara could talk about nothing else, and he knew Olivia—although she was more subdued than the excitable junior surgeon—was also eager to get underway.

  He knew how close she was to Ama’s case.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be. Maybe it wasn’t the professional thing to do. If something went wrong... But some cases just got to you—he knew that.

  And nothing was going to go wrong.

  The surgery tomorrow was complex, but they all knew what they were doing. And Ama’s new life was just around the corner.

  ‘Ethan!’

  Ethan looked up to find Leo waving at him across the reasonably full bar. He was at a table with Olivia, Kara, and her fiancé, Declan Underwood—a plastic surgeon who also worked at the Hunter Clinic.

  He made his way over to the group. He was supposed to be meeting Leo here for an after-work drink and a general catch-up. There’d been a fairly full surgical list the past five days and Ethan had only been into 200 Harley Street for a few hours on the weekend, to do the computer modelling for Ama’s surgery.

  But Leo liked to have a meeting once a week to discuss general Hunter Clinic business and Ethan had bunked out on the past two. He appreciated his brother wanting him involved now he was an active partner in the business, but Ethan had no doubt that Leo could and did run the clinic perfectly well without his input.

  Hell, the man had dragged the sinking clinic out of the scandalous mire it had sunk into after their father’s headline-grabbing drunken scene and subsequent death. He’d worked day and night not only to put it back into the red but into the hearts, minds and chequebooks of every A-lister in Europe and beyond.

  The only decisions Ethan wanted to be consulted over were those that involved the humanitarian programme. Then he was all ears.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind us crashing your party.’ Declan grinned, half standing and holding out his hand as Ethan pulled up at the table.

  The man’s Irish brogue seemed more pronounced tonight, and Ethan assumed it was due to the almost empty pint of Guinness sitting in front of him.

  Ethan shook Declan’s hand, nodding a welcome at Kara and Olivia, who returned it with a cool smile. ‘Not at all. Leo just wants to chew my ear about figures anyway. You’ve saved me.’

  ‘Hmph,’ Leo said good-naturedly. ‘As if that would get me anywhere.’

  There was general laughter as Ethan sat in the spare chair. It was between Leo and Kara and opposite Olivia, and he glanced at her as he sat down.

  ‘Looking forward to tomorrow, Kara?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘You betcha.’ She grinned.

  Hearing her Aussie accent, Ethan realised the Brits were outnumbered at their table tonight.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve.’

  Leo laughed. ‘That’s what I like to see,’ he said. ‘Enthusiasm.’

  Ethan smiled as he glanced at Declan, who was looking at Kara as if she was a tasty little Christmas treat waiting under the tree and he was Santa. Ethan felt a pang in the centre of his chest. He’d known that feeling.

  He’d loved that feeling.

  The feeling that you never wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else, just wrapped up in a bubble, just the two of you.

  ‘Don’t worry, darlin’,’ Declan said, exaggerating his accent. ‘I have just the thing for insomnia.’

  Everyone laughed, but still Ethan felt the pang throb a little harder. Leo had the same look as Declan and they were both clearly very contented men. Satisfaction oozed from their pores.

  He glanced at Olivia again. Had she ever had anyone special? He realised he’d been so busy these past five days keeping his distance that he hadn’t bothered to find out much about her life that didn’t relate to work. There was ten years lost between them—maybe the wariness he saw in her expression now was to do with a man?

  Conversation naturally flowed onto the case for a while, and it was good seeing Olivia relax again. She was in her comfort zone and the old spark came back. The passion and the fervour she obviously had for what she was doing sent a little buzz around the group and it was hard not to get a little high off it.

  Ethan knew that feeling well. He’d got the same kick from the work he’d done these past ten years. Sure, initially when he’d first joined the army it had been the pressure and the danger he’d thrived on. The risks of front line work had made him feel more alive than he’d ever felt back home, with a drunken father and a stiflingly over-protective brother.

  But he’d learned the hard way the downside of front line work. That you couldn’t save everyone and that innocent people too often paid the price.

  Leo had thought Ethan had joined up to spite him, and in some ways he had. But he’d caught the bug—the thrill of transforming somebody’s life. And that was why he did it.

  �
��You’re sticking around for the hospital ball?’ Kara asked Olivia, dragging Ethan back into the conversation.

  Olivia shrugged. ‘Oh... I...I didn’t know there was a ball.’

  Kara frowned at Ethan and Leo. ‘What’s the matter with you two?’ She tsked with a smile on her face. ‘You’re really not very good hosts, are you?’ She looked back at Olivia. ‘It’s the Lighthouse Ball—it’s the highlight of the year. It’s on in two weeks. Everyone goes.’

  Olivia stilled with what she hoped was a smile on her face. Oh. That ball. Memories swamped her. A fabulous red dress. An exquisite set of matching lingerie. She’d been to that ball a decade ago—on Ethan’s arm.

  ‘You will come, right?’ Kara said. ‘Don’t make me be the only Aussie there.’

  Olivia shook her head. Been there, done that. ‘I don’t know how Ama will be by then.’

  ‘No, Kara’s right. It was remiss of me not to mention it,’ Leo interjected. ‘You should definitely go.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You should get Ethan to take you. You remember how much Ethan loves to dance, right?’

  Leo grinned at his brother, and if Olivia hadn’t been so annoyed at Leo she’d have been heartened by how much closer the two men were now, compared to their toxic relationship a decade ago.

  ‘Funny,’ Ethan said to his brother. ‘You’re hysterical.’ He looked at Kara. ‘I don’t dance,’ he said.

  Olivia nearly snorted at the understatement. He could manage a waltz/shuffle and that was about it. He much preferred to mingle and be charming and to look dashing in a tux and turn every woman’s head.

  The last thing she wanted to do was go to a damn hospital ball with Ethan.

  Ethan in a tux.

  She’d had a fantasy about him in a tux involving a scalpel as well.

  ‘Sorry—got to go, guys,’ Leo said. ‘Lizzie can barely stay up past nine these days.’

  ‘And to think,’ Ethan quipped, ‘he used to party with princesses till dawn.’

  Leo grinned at his brother. ‘Totally overrated,’ he said, then departed quickly.

  Olivia saw Leo’s departure as a perfect opportunity to effect her own, but before she could get her goodbyes out Kara was back onto the subject of the ball.

  ‘Are you sure about the ball?’

  Olivia nodded quickly. ‘I don’t have a dress anyway,’ she said, hoping that another woman would understand such a conundrum even if it was hogwash.

  ‘Oh, good grief, that’s not a problem,’ Kara dismissed with a wave of her hand. ‘Have you been to Oxford Street? With your figure we could find you something in a jiffy. Plenty of places in London to shop for ballgowns. Actually, I even know this great place where you can get some Australian designer stuff.’ She paused for a second and narrowed her eyes as she stared at a spot just above Olivia’s head. ‘You’re from Sydney, you said, right?’

  Olivia nodded. ‘Ah...yes. But my parents were flying doctors so I mainly grew up in the Outback. Not many ball frocks out there,’ she said, trying to make a joke.

  But Kara was clearly enthused about the idea.

  Ethan could see Olivia’s lack of enthusiasm a mile away. ‘Kara,’ he said with mock sternness, ‘you’re badgering.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Kara said, but her grin didn’t look very contrite to Ethan and his spine prickled—in a bad way—when she looked speculatively from him to Olivia and then back to him again.

  ‘You just never know, right?’ Kara said. ‘The craziest things happen at balls,’ she murmured, and she slid her hand onto Declan’s and they smiled at each other.

  Ethan suppressed an eye-roll. He’d already heard from Lizzie about how Declan and Kara had set tongues wagging at the Princess Catherine’s ball because of a saucy stolen kiss. Why was it that people in love thought everyone else should be in love too?

  They were worse than reformed smokers.

  ‘Come on, love,’ Declan said, standing. ‘I think it’s time we go before you’re whipping out the tape measure. And you’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

  Olivia was relieved when Kara took the bait. With them gone she’d have the perfect excuse to be gone too.

  ‘Well, let me know if you change your mind about the ball,’ Kara said as she shrugged into the jacket that had been slung around the back of her chair. ‘Or the dress shopping.’

  Olivia nodded, relieved that talk of the ball would soon be over. ‘I will,’ she said with absolutely no intention of following through.

  The couple turned to leave, but at the last moment Kara stopped and turned back mid-collar-straightening.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said, looking at Olivia. ‘I just realised... Olivia Fairchild... Your parents were the flying doctors that were killed a few years back in that terrible bushfire, right? I’m so, so sorry...that was such a tragedy.’

  Olivia blinked as a hot spike of pain cleaved her right through the middle. So far away from home and five years down the track she hadn’t expected anyone to get the association, and even though Kara was an Australian it was completely unexpected.

  ‘Oh...yes,’ she said, forcing the words out around a throat that felt as if it was collapsing in on itself. ‘Thank you,’ she stammered. ‘It was a...shock.’

  ‘It was awful,’ Kara agreed. ‘Just awful.’

  ‘Yes,’ Olivia said, nodding automatically, her head roaring with a tsunami of suppressed emotions.

  Ethan looked from Olivia to Kara and then back to Olivia again. Olivia looked like she’d been struck, her peaches and cream complexion almost waxy now it was so pale. He frowned. What the hell...?

  Olivia’s parents were dead?

  Ethan glanced at Kara, who clearly realised she’d spoken without thinking and didn’t know what to say next. She looked at him, lost, and then shrugged, a panicked help me look on her face.

  He nodded his head at her. ‘It’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘Go home and get some sleep. We need your A Game tomorrow.’

  Declan nodded at Ethan over Kara’s head. ‘C’mon, darlin’,’ he said, and Ethan was relieved when the couple quietly withdrew.

  Olivia sat staring at the glass of wine she’d barely touched and Ethan wished he knew where—how—to start. Olivia had been so close to her parents. He remembered what a foreign concept that had been for him and how they’d both struggled to understand the dynamics of each other’s families when they were used to different upbringings.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  Olivia shut her eyes. She didn’t want to hear his condolences. She didn’t want to share such a terrible gut-wrenching part of her life with him. It was too...significant—something lovers shared—and at the moment she could barely breathe from the sense of loss weighing down her lungs and settling in her bones.

  She’d forgotten how much it hurt. How much she missed them. Being overseas, being away from it all, it was easy to forget it had happened. Easy to pretend she’d go home and they’d be waiting for her.

  Sometimes the stark reality that she’d never see them again—which played like a soft chant in the back of her head anyway—roared out at her and hit her like a blast wave to the chest.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said, her thumb rubbing absently over the cool fiery opal in her ring, remembering the day her parents had given it to her.

  ‘It’s not fine, Olivia,’ he dismissed tersely, then frowned at her, trying to understand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Olivia glared at him. ‘Oh, you’re annoyed because I didn’t tell you?’

  Ethan sighed. ‘No, Olivia. No. I just...I wish I’d known.’

  Olivia clung to the slow burn of anger in her chest. It was easier to be mad at him than at two dead people, than at an act of nature that had killed fifteen others that day.

  She sucked in a breath as a wave of pain crested in her throat. ‘You could have a
sked.’

  Ethan blinked at the low accusation in her voice, trying to think back to the conversations they’d had since she’d returned. It was true they hadn’t really talked about anything personal—hadn’t he only just thought that tonight?—but...

  ‘You said your parents had given you the money for your charity.’

  Olivia snorted. ‘They did,’ she said bitterly. ‘In their will.’

  Ethan was silenced by the depth of her grief. He’d lost his father a decade ago, his mother ten years before that. And despite finding out about his mother’s infidelities after her death, and his contentious relationship with his father—or maybe because of them—his loss and grief had been compounded.

  But that had been a long time ago.

  Aaliyah’s death, on the other hand, had not. And, whether Olivia knew it or not, he understood the rawness of grief. He also understood now that this was what her reserve was about.

  She was hurting.

  She was grieving.

  ‘What happened?’

  Olivia felt a hot tear well in her eye and fall down her cheek and she brushed it savagely away. She knew he wasn’t going to let it go—best to just get it out there as quickly and painlessly as possible.

  ‘Five years ago...a massive bushfire...it swept through Outback Queensland. We were all there. Mum and Dad were pitching in with the authorities, out driving a rusty old four-wheel drive somebody had commandeered for them, helping to evacuate all the outlying properties, giving first aid, et cetera.’

  Olivia could still smell the thick smoke blanketing the air, feel the sting of her eyes and the irritation of her airways, hear the almighty roar of the fire as the wind swept it along at a horrifying pace.

  She picked up her glass of wine and stared at the fluid level as she absently swirled it. ‘I was in the rural hospital, dealing with the casualties as they came in. I’d wanted to go with them but they said I was needed at the hospital. And I was, of course.’

  Another tear fell and she dashed it away too.

  ‘I’d just finished organising an evac for my third escharotomy of the day when the police came. The wind had changed...they’d been cut off...surrounded...’