THE BIRDS WERE even earlier than usual, their singing causing thumps around her brain. She put her head under the pillow. But after a few minutes it hadn’t helped.
Last night she’d cried herself to sleep after drinking two glasses of wine. She was bundled up in the fleeciest pyjamas she owned. March was still cold in London. She couldn’t bear to wear one of the satin nightdresses she’d been wearing when she’d shared her bed with Iain. Even though they’d offered no warmth at all, she hadn’t needed it. She’d had Iain to cuddle up to.
Her stomach turned over. Iain. The look in his eyes last night. At one point she’d thought if she’d touched him, her big, burly, handsome Scotsman might crumble.
Her heart ached for him. Now it was all out there. Now she knew everything. And it was all her fault.
Why had she pushed him? What had it achieved?
She’d pushed him for information she could have lived without knowing. He blamed himself. He’d spent the last few years blaming himself.
What must that feel like? What must it feel like to wake up every day feeling responsible for the deaths of your wife and children? No wonder he’d never managed to have another relationship. No wonder he’d told her he couldn’t sleep at night.
Her stomach twisted again. There it was. His scent on her pillows. She was never going to be close enough to him to smell that again. She was never going to hold his hand. Feel his lips on hers. Feel his hands on her body.
She thumped her fist into the pillow. How could she work with him every day after all this? Some days he spent at Kate’s. But at some point every day he would be in the clinic. In her work space. Just waiting for an unsuspecting moment when they would run into one another.
Maybe she should find another job? She clenched her eyes tightly shut. She loved her job. More than loved it. It was one of the things she was most proud of. Her nomination for the award had just been the icing on the cake. Did she really want to leave the job she loved? Or could she really face having to see Iain on a daily basis? From what she knew of him, it would hurt him just as much as it hurt her.
She wrapped her hands around her stomach. Maybe this wasn’t emotional pain, maybe this was real pain. It certainly felt that way.
The alarm sounded next to her head and she flung her pillow at it as she swung her legs out of bed. Normally she jumped out of the bed in the morning, anxious to get to work. This definitely wasn’t going to be one of those days.
The sight that greeted her in the mirror wasn’t a good one. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, the dark circles under her eyes made her look ten years older. Smudges all over her face revealed that the last thing she’d been thinking about last night had been removing her make-up. Her hair was a tangled mess. She picked up a lock and dropped it again. She didn’t have a single hair product that could remedy this.
She switched on the shower. She wanted to wash everything away. All the questions she’d asked. All the things she’d been told. Every look of hurt and pain on Iain’s face.
He hadn’t even said goodbye last night. She’d just watched him walk back along the street with his head down.
She stepped into the shower. ‘Owwww!’ It was scalding. She stood in the corner of the cubicle and braved her hand underneath the flow to turn the dial. A few seconds later she stepped under the torrent of water, turning her face up to meet its blast.
Wash it all away. Wash it all away.
Seven gallons of conditioner and a tube of facial scrub later she stepped out. She pulled a sombre black suit from her cupboard, looked at it for a few minutes then flung it aside.
She reached in again, this time finding a form-fitting emerald-green dress. It was power dressing. And the last thing she felt like doing today.
She looked in the mirror again as she sat down to dry her hair. Her make-up lay across the dressing-table. She lifted her chin and looked again, determination flooding through her.
If this was the end and if she was going out, she was going out fighting.
This will be a good day. She kept repeating the words in her head like a mantra as she walked along the street. It stopped her from bursting into tears. She was going to have to get used to this. There was no getting away from it, she was going to have to see Iain every day at work whether it broke her heart or not.
The first time was always the hardest. And she was absolutely determined no one would see her cry. She was a professional.
She did her best to sweep though the reception area of the clinic as quickly as possible. ‘Hi, Lexi,’ Mel, one of the receptionists on duty, called. ‘I’m so sorry about last night.’
Her stiletto heels stopped abruptly. She spun round, trying to stop her mouth from gaping open. ‘What?’
Mel stood up and walked over towards her, a quizzical expression on her face. ‘The awards, of course. We all thought you should have won.’
The panic subsided. She could breathe again. Just as well really, because a few other staff had emerged and were all looking at her.
She pasted a smile on her face. ‘Oh, thanks for that. I was just happy to be there.’
Fiona, another receptionist, stood up from behind the desk and picked up a tabloid newspaper. ‘You made the headlines.’
Lexi felt her blood run cold. She moved over to the desk and looked at the front page. ‘Iain McKenzie’s secret love—Lexi Robbins’. She let out a strangled gasp. ‘What?’
Both receptionists laughed. ‘It’s a great picture, isn’t it?’ Mel gave her a sideways glance. ‘You do look like a couple, by the way. And how on earth did you get our Scotsman into a kilt? He looks good enough to eat.’
‘He phoned in this morning,’ said Fiona. ‘Something’s came up. Asked me to cancel his appointments this morning. He’s going to be stuck at the Lighthouse Hospital all day.’
Her mouth dried instantly. She couldn’t speak as her eyes scanned the article. ‘Can I keep this?’ she asked, trying not to crumple the paper beneath her grasp.
‘Sure, I’ll buy another one.’
‘Thanks.’ Her feet flew down the corridor until she reached her office and slammed the door behind her. No! This was the last thing she wanted.
In a way she felt a sense of relief. Iain wouldn’t be here today. She wouldn’t need to see him. She wouldn’t need to face him. Maybe he hadn’t even seen the paper—after all, she hadn’t until she’d come to work this morning.
She sat behind her desk. The first thing that caught her attention was the picture.
It was in full colour, showing off Lexi’s dress and Iain’s kilt in all their glory. But the thing that had obviously captured the photographer’s interest was the look that was passi
ng between them. It was there for the whole world to see.
They were both smiling, looking straight into each other’s eyes. Neither of them was looking at the camera. Iain’s hand was wrapped around her waist and with his other he was holding her hand—right in front of her stomach.
And with a look like that between them …
She put her head on the desk and groaned. This would be a disaster. She started to read.
Internet sensation Dr Iain McKenzie attended the Dakota Jefferson Awards last night with Lexi Robbins, daughter of supermodel Penelope Crosby and chat show host Steve Robbins. Speculation was rising last night regarding their relationship.
It was apparent they only had eyes for each other as they spent most of the evening together and sneaked off early after the awards. Lexi was dressed in an as yet unidentified stylish designer dress, with Iain in a black and white kilt, revealing more of his now famous physique.
Lexi and Iain work together at the Hunter Clinic in Harley Street and she was nominated for one of the PR awards. But maybe this is her biggest PR coup of all?
Lexi launched the commercial featuring Iain McKenzie just a few days ago and it currently has over nineteen million views on the internet. Not much is known about Iain McKenzie, a thirty-five-year-old reconstructive plastic surgeon from Edinburgh. He was widowed following the death of his wife Bonnie three years ago.
Maybe Lexi Robbins has caught the biggest catch of all?
Could this really be any worse? Wait until Iain saw it, it made her sound as if she’d deliberately set out to catch him—all for the sake of publicity. Too bad her heart only functioned around Iain and not her brain. She couldn’t have planned this if she’d tried.
The corners of her mouth turned up as she noticed a little picture down in the bottom corner of the piece. The one with her mother, her father and herself. Penelope would go ballistic. Of all the people in the world she’d expect to push her off the front page, Lexi would never be one. For the first time that day a tiny little surge of pleasure crept through her. It was childish, and she’d never say the words out loud, but just imagining the look on her mother’s face this morning would be pleasure enough. It would make up for almost being completely ignored last night.