Surgeon in a Tux Read online

  Praise for

  Carol Marinelli:

  ‘A heartwarming story about taking a chance and not letting the past destroy the future. It is strengthened by two engaging lead characters and a satisfying ending.’

  —RT Book Reviews on

  THE LAST KOLOVSKY PLAYBOY

  ‘Carol Marinelli writes with sensitivity, compassion and understanding, and RESCUING PREGNANT CINDERELLA is not just a powerful romance but an uplifting and inspirational tale about starting over, new beginnings and moving on.’

  —cataromance.com

  ‘A compelling, sensual, sexy, emotionally packed, drama-filled read that will leave you begging for more!’

  —Contemporary Romance Reviews on

  NYC ANGELS: REDEEMING THE PLAYBOY

  200 HARLEY STREET

  Welcome to the luxurious premises of the exclusive Hunter Clinic, world renowned in plastic and reconstructive surgery, set right on Harley Street, the centre of elite clinical excellence, in the heart of London’s glittering West End!

  Owned by two very different brothers, Leo and Ethan Hunter, the Hunter Clinic undertakes both cosmetic and reconstructive surgery. Playboy Leo handles the rich and famous clients, enjoying the red carpet glamour of London’s A-list social scene, while brooding ex-army doc Ethan focuses his time on his passion—transforming the lives of injured war heroes and civilian casualties of war.

  Emotion and drama abound against the backdrop of one of Europe’s most glamorous cities, as Leo and Ethan work through their tensions and find women who will change their lives for ever!

  200 HARLEY STREET

  Glamour, intensity, desire—the lives and loves of London’s hottest team of surgeons!

  Begin your sensational eight-book journey with …

  200 HARLEY STREET: SURGEON IN A TUX

  by Carol Marinelli

  Dear Reader

  I so enjoyed writing the first book for this wonderful 200 Harley Street continuity.

  I am very glad that the editors choose who writes which story, because I confess, had it been left to me, I would have struggled to choose between the two brothers—Leo and Ethan Hunter. Actually, had it been left to me, I’d have probably gone for the deliciously dark and tortured Ethan—but the editors do know best because had I been given Ethan I’d never have fallen in love with the reprobate Leo—and fall in love I did.

  Yes, he was reeling me in by the time my gorgeous heroine, Lizzie, first picked up the phone and spoke to him. He’s sexy, snobby, funny and, in his own way, just as tortured as Ethan. I hope you love him too!

  I can’t wait to read the rest of the stories and get back to the glamour and heartbreak at 200 Harley Street and find out what happens to the rest of the characters (especially Ethan!).

  Happy reading!

  Carol x

  CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form where she was asked for her job title and was thrilled, after all these years, to be able to put down her answer as ‘writer’. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation. After chewing her pen for a moment Carol put down the truth—’writing’. The third question asked: ‘What are your hobbies?’ Well, not wanting to look obsessed or, worse still, boring, she crossed the fingers on her free hand and answered ‘swimming and tennis’. But, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights, and the closest she’s got to a tennis racket in the last couple of years is watching the Australian Open, I’m sure you can guess the real answer!

  200 Harley Street: Surgeon in a Tux

  Carol Marinelli

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Praise for Carol Marinelli

  Excerpt

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  ‘ACCOMMODATION PROVIDED’ WAS starting to take on a whole new meaning!

  Lizzie Birch took the lift to the fifth floor with her heart in her mouth, sure that there must have been some mistake—that this couldn’t possibly be her new home.

  When she had been given the trendy Marylebone address Lizzie had convinced herself it would be something like the rather drab nursing accommodation she had shared in earlier days—a stunning old building, divided into bedsits perhaps …

  This was anything but that.

  As she turned the key Lizzie stepped into a tastefully furnished, high-ceilinged flat and caught the scent of flowers. Turning, she swallowed when she saw an elaborate bouquet and a basket of luxurious nibbles and wines there to greet her.

  Lizzie walked over and inhaled the gorgeous fragrance of spring, but on a cold January morning. They must have cost a fortune.

  The place must be worth a fortune, Lizzie thought, biting into a chocolate champagne truffle and closing her eyes in bliss, but when she opened them she blinked, completely overwhelmed at her new surroundings. Only now was she starting to fully realise the true coup of becoming Head Nurse at the Hunter Clinic at 200 Harley Street.

  There was a note to say that the uniforms she had sent her measurements in for were waiting for her at the clinic. It was a far cry from the usual package of white dresses or theatre scrubs that Lizzie was rather more used to. It was all as rich and as expensive as the voice Lizzie had so far only heard on the other end of a telephone.

  Leo Hunter.

  ‘You come highly recommended.’ There had been an edge to his voice that had made Lizzie frown; after all, the recommendation as to her suitability for the position had come from Leo’s own brother, Ethan.

  ‘Thank you.’ Lizzie hadn’t really known what to say. ‘I was very flattered when Ethan suggested that I apply. He said to call and hopefully arrange an interview—’

  ‘The job’s yours,’ Leo had interrupted. ‘There’s no need for an interview, unless you want to hop over to Switzerland.’ Lizzie hadn’t been sure if he’d been joking or had meant it. She’d heard the sound of rich laughter in the background and Leo had apologised for the noise—explaining that, like all good cosmetic surgeons, now that the Christmas rush was over, he was skiing—and then Lizzie had frowned in confusion as he’d told her that he looked forward to seeing her in the New Year.

  Was that it?

  He hadn’t even asked about her employment history! He didn’t seem to care that her work with Ethan had simply been agency work and that she was, in fact, a senior nurse in Accident and Emergency.

  He’d given the job as easily as that!

  ‘Oh,’ Leo added, just before he rang off. ‘Did you want accommodation?’ As easily as that he tossed it into the conversation—his clipped, well-schooled voice delivering the offer almost as an afterthought. ‘As Head Nurse of the Hunter Clinic, we can offer you that.’

  ‘Offer it?’ Lizzie checked.

  ‘A furnished flat …’

  Lizzie clutched the phone as he thanked someone, presumably for a drink because she could hear the chink of ice cubes as his attention came back to her. ‘I’m not sure which one, we’ve got a few within walking distance of the clinic.’ Lizzie was about to decline—anything within walking distance of 200 Harley Street would be way out of her price r
ange—but then Leo continued, ‘It’s part of the package, though if you already have somewhere to stay, we can come to—’

  ‘That would be great.’ It was Lizzie interrupting now. Trying and failing to sound blasé, but a furnished flat within walking distance would save a fortune, not just on rental but on travel. Lizzie had moved from Brighton to London a couple of years ago and had found it fiercely expensive, especially with all her parents’ nursing-home bills. She wasn’t used to perks and certainly not one of this magnitude. ‘The flat would be marvellous.’

  ‘Good,’ Leo clipped. ‘Gwen, the clinic manager, will be in touch with all the details and I’ll see you in the New Year.’

  Happy New Year, Lizzie thought as she looked out of the window, marvelling at the glimpse of Regent’s Park, unable to believe all this was really happening to her.

  Leo’s brother, Ethan, had been a patient of Lizzie’s. He had returned injured from Afghanistan and Lizzie had been making home visits, treating his badly injured legs. She’d known Ethan was a doctor but had had no idea of his dazzling family history. Ethan had been silent and brooding and, knowing some of what he had been through, Lizzie hadn’t taken it remotely personally. Instead she had filled the long silences with chatter about her own life—her aging parents, her mother’s Alzheimer’s, the on-going concern she had for them despite the fact they were both in a home. How the decision to sell the family home had been a hard one. How expensive it all was. How she tried to get down to Brighton to visit them most of her days off.

  How it hurt that her mother rarely recognised her.

  Her tongs had paused in mid-dressing, she had been talking more to herself, but it had been Ethan who had, for once, broken the silence.

  ‘They’re lucky to have you.’

  ‘No.’ Lizzie had smiled, glad to hear him engaging. ‘I’m lucky to have them.’

  Slowly Ethan had started talking and when he had told her that he was thinking of working in the family business, heading up the charity side of his brother’s cosmetic and reconstructive clinic, Lizzie had taken an interest, more because she’d been glad that Ethan was finally communicating.

  It had never entered her head that he would put her forward for the position of Head Nurse at the clinic. More than that, she had never thought she would be accepted.

  Lizzie was plagued with insecurity about the sudden change in her career, sure that one look at the very fresh-faced Lizzie and Leo Hunter would change his mind.

  She wandered through the flat and to the gorgeous bathroom and stared at her reflection in the large mirror, wondering what head nurse to a renowned cosmetic surgeon ought to look like.

  Lizzie looked at her light brown wavy hair and brown eyes and a face that rarely wore make-up and thought of all the celebrities and beauties she would be facing come Monday.

  She thought too of facing Leo.

  Of course she had looked him up and life hadn’t been the same since!

  It was rather like the day her blushing mother had told a very naïve Lizzie the facts of life. The autumn crocus in her elderly parents’ lives, Lizzie had been cosseted and protected from such things. The day they’d had the talk, suddenly it had seemed that periods and sex were everywhere—from adverts on television to full pages in magazines.

  It was the same with Leo Hunter—he was everywhere now.

  He was the chiselled-jawed, blue-eyed hunk that cavorted on snow-capped mountaintops behind royalty as they were photographed.

  Black hair brushed back, he was that beautiful face on the table next to a celebrity, he was that man walking beside a stunning model as she tripped on her way out of a nightclub.

  Lizzie had just never paid attention till now.

  Leo Hunter was a heartbreaker, surgeon to the stars, irredeemable playboy and, as of Monday, he would also be her boss.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I HIRED HER, didn’t I?’ Leo’s response to his brother was terse. ‘So why wouldn’t I be nice to her?’

  ‘You know what I mean, Leo.’

  Rarely was Ethan the one to walk away. He turned on his heel and attempted to stalk out of his brother’s plush office but despite the simmering anger, despite ten years, no, a lifetime of rivalry, Leo’s jaws clamped together at the painful sight of his brother’s attempt to stalk off.

  God only knew the mess of Ethan’s legs, Leo thought. Ethan certainly never spoke about them and Leo had only read about them. Leo could still remember the pain and humiliation of having to learn from a news article that his brother was recovering in hospital.

  So much for being next of kin.

  Ethan’s time in Afghanistan was something Ethan chose not to discuss but his pain was evident and, yes, Leo wished his brother would share, open up, but why would he? Leo thought.

  They’d never been close.

  Their father had seen to that long ago.

  ‘You’re not proving anything by refusing to use a walking stick.’ Leo watched as Ethan’s shoulders stiffened but, hell, if his older brother couldn’t say it then who could?

  ‘If I want a further opinion I’ll go to someone who …’ Ethan didn’t finish, he didn’t have to—that was the dark beauty of being brothers, there was enough history to know exactly what the other meant without having to spell things out. As Ethan’s disdain for Leo’s work briefly broke through the tense, simmering surface, exposing the rivalry beneath, Leo merely shrugged.

  ‘Mock it all you like,’ he said, as Ethan turned to face him. ‘But I’ll tell you this much—my patients walk out of here feeling one hell of a lot better than they did when they first walked in, and,’ he added, ‘might I remind you that it’s my work and subsequently my patients’ word of mouth that have pulled the Hunter name out of the gutter. While you were busy playing soldiers …’ Leo broke off, wishing he could retrieve his own words, because Ethan hadn’t been playing at anything. Ethan’s injuries were a product of war. He was a hero by anyone’s standards—especially Leo’s. ‘That was below the belt,’ he admitted.

  ‘Yes, and so is the shrapnel.’

  Leo just stood there silent for a moment. His appalling playboy reputation combined with a passion for fast living meant that having a wounded soldier for a younger brother needled on so many levels. ‘While you’re peering down your nose at your celebrity surgeon brother, just remember that my work allows the charity side of things to happen,’ Leo pointed out. ‘Without the money coming into the Hunter Clinic those charity beds at the Lighthouse Hospital and Kate’s wouldn’t be funded and you wouldn’t be working here.’

  ‘I get it,’ Ethan growled.

  ‘You abhor it, though …’ Leo said, as his eyes drifted to the crystal decanter that sat on the walnut table in his office. ‘But you don’t seem to mind extravagance when you’re knocking back the hundred-year-old malt …’ He walked over and lifted the decanter. ‘I must remember to replace the stopper more carefully in future.’ His voice was dripping with sarcasm. ‘It seems to be evaporating at a rate of knots.’

  Ethan said nothing. It was Leo who chose not to leave it. ‘Don’t you have a home to go to, Ethan? I’m assuming that you crashed here again last night …’

  It was an obvious assumption. Ethan was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and was the antitheses of the impeccably groomed Leo who, despite a late night at an A-list function and an energetic romp with yet another blonde beauty in his bed, had been out for a run at dawn, before showering and heading to work.

  Ethan, it would seem, had crashed again on Leo’s leather sofa.

  ‘I was working late.’ Ethan offered the same excuse as he had on several occasions since coming to work at the Hunter Clinic.

  Leo could feel the tension in his jaw, heard his own hiss of breath as he felt the pages of history turning. Yes, Ethan may be a hero but he was very much a wounded one and it wasn’t just his legs that were injured, Leo was sure of it. But even if Ethan’s mental scars ran deep there was no way that Leo was about to let history repeat itself. He
could still remember, as if it had happened yesterday, the time when everything had finally come to a head—their father, James, turning up for work drunk and causing a scene in front of the clients.

  Of course he had been sent home, disgraced, but instead of sleeping it off James had carried on with his bender, eventually collapsing and dying. The Hunter reputation had fallen like a house of cards and it had been Leo who had painstakingly rebuilt it brick by brick, client by client, personal recommendation by personal recommendation.

  He’d sacrificed way too much to see it fall again.

  Leo felt the heavy weight of the stopper in his palm for a moment before he replaced it in the decanter. ‘If you ever—’ Leo started, but Ethan broke in.

  ‘It’s not going to happen.’

  ‘You’re quite sure about that?’ Leo’s eyes were as blue as the ocean and, despite the seemingly decadent lifestyle, just as clear. Unlike Ethan’s—his hazel eyes were bloodshot and although Leo appeared unshaven it was designer stubble on his chin, whereas Ethan looked like a man who had spent the night on a sofa—albeit an expensive one.

  ‘I shan’t be making excuses for you, Ethan.’

  ‘Learned your lesson, have you?’ Ethan asked. Yes, there was a dark beauty to being brothers, because in that short question Ethan had demanded answers to the impossible. Why had Leo kept such a lid on things with their father? Why had Leo constantly smoothed over the gaping cracks? Why, when Ethan had wanted to confront their father, had Leo insisted otherwise as their father had spiralled further out of control?

  Even as children, Leo had been the same, defusing situations with wit and humour—even pouring his father a drink at times just to knock him out.

  Ethan would have preferred different methods to produce the same result.

  His fists.

  ‘I don’t think now is the time or the place,’ Leo said.

  ‘There never has been a right time and place,’ Ethan responded, then turned the conversation from the impossible to the practical. ‘Just make sure that you’re nice to Lizzie.’