A Surgeon with a Secret Read online

  Good grief, she’d even asked if she could have her own space in the chest of drawers in his bedroom, despite having had the ‘F’ rules clearly spelled out from the beginning. A relationship for Lachlan was about Fun and that was all. No Full time. No Future. No Family.

  Lachlan glanced at his watch again, letting his breath out in what might have been a small sigh of relief that split-second interruption had provided.

  ‘Speaking of which,’ he told Jennifer, ‘I need to get going, but just email me any queries. Or leave a phone message and I’ll call back as soon as I can.’ As if his phone wanted to back up his promise, a text alert sounded. Lachlan glanced at the screen, standing up as Jennifer got out of her seat. It was a message from Julia at London Locums and he could see the initial lines of the text.

  Felicity’s on her way to meet your mother. Good luck. She’s the best—

  Lachlan didn’t open the message to read the rest. Yes, Julia had said on the phone that this nurse would only be deciding whether or not to take the position after she’d met his mother but getting her there was the biggest hurdle to get over. He’d had many, many years of learning that he could get pretty much anything he wanted with a combination of charm and unlimited funds available. He could feel his lips curling into a smile that was already anticipating success in dealing with the initial step of solving the problem of his mother.

  ‘You know what, Jennifer? I’m confident that I’ve already got arrangements in place that will make this all run as smoothly as possible. I might even be back by tomorrow morning and have some time to meet up. We can thrash out the final details of the training programme. Maybe you can give me some tips for working with that film crew as well.’

  Jennifer gave him an unreadable look. ‘I think you’ll manage just fine, Mr McKendry. You seem to have everything well under control.’

  * * *

  Yes...

  He did have things under control. The issue of dealing with an aging and difficult family member was nothing he couldn’t handle and Lachlan McKendry had every intention of doing so with kindness and patience. Josephine McKendry was his mother, after all, and you only ever got one of them.

  And how could you not feel happy when you could stay in the fast lane and pass everything else on the M4 as if they were barely moving? He settled a little deeper into the butter-soft leather seat of his brand-new, Dolomite Silver Porsche 911 Carrera. Zero to one hundred kilometres an hour in four point two seconds. Not that he’d tried that out yet, of course, but it would be fun...

  The average time from London to Gloucester was a couple of hours but Lachlan wasn’t going that far because the family estate was in a deeply forested pocket amongst Cotswold villages. He’d be able to shave at least forty minutes off that kind of journey time. The inbuilt sat nav in his dashboard was already recalculating his arrival time as Heathrow Airport flashed past. He should be at his destination by about six-thirty p.m. Just in time for an aperitif before one of Tilly’s delicious dinners.

  A vocal instruction was enough to raise the volume level of the music coming from a sound system that was one of the best Lachlan had ever heard but he wanted something a bit more upbeat. Something that fitted in with his current optimism.

  ‘Play “Living on a Prayer” by Bon Jovi,’ he instructed.

  He could totally get on board with the chorus of that song. He was, literally, almost halfway there already.

  * * *

  This couldn’t be right, surely...

  Flick slowed her bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle as she turned past ornate, wrought-iron gates to find herself on a tree-lined driveway that was so long she couldn’t even see a house. It looked like the entrance to a National Park. Or a residence of a minor Royal, perhaps? But, then, Julia had told her that Mrs McKendry wasn’t a ‘Mrs’ at all. She was Lady Josephine because her now deceased husband had been knighted for his services to cardiothoracic surgery or something. She’d also said the family was seriously wealthy and that the house she was going to had probably had McKendrys living in it for centuries.

  ‘You’ll love it, Flick,’ she’d added. ‘A real taste of old-fashioned, upper-class England. Bit different from what you grew up with in Australia, I’m guessing.’

  A ‘bit different’ was already an understatement. Finally coming to the end of the driveway, Flick felt her jaw dropping as she took in the circular drive with a central garden and ornate fountain and the enormous house behind it. The beautiful stonework and countless lead-lighted windows, a slate roof that looked many hundreds of years old and the sense of history it evoked sent a shiver down her spine. The stories that would have seeped into those stones...

  Flick had worked in many different places in the years she’d been with various medical locum agencies based in both Sydney and London. She’d worked with aeromedical retrieval services, in both private and public hospitals, general practice clinics, private homes and even on superyachts but she’d never felt like she was stepping back in time like this. She should be in a small carriage, being pulled by a couple of horses, she decided, as she parked her little yellow car nearest the door at the top of a wide sweep of steps. She should be wearing a long, boofy dress and any second now the doors would be flung open to reveal a butler ready to show her into...ooh...a drawing room, perhaps? Or a library? She stood at the bottom of the steps for a moment longer, staring up at the walls of the house as a smile stretched across her face.

  She was still smiling as she turned at the sound of gravel being spat out from beneath fast-moving tyres but it faded as an expensive-looking silver car came to a stop that was abrupt enough and close enough to send small pebbles to hit her boots and it was completely gone by the time the driver emerged from the car and walked towards her.

  * * *

  Wow...

  It wasn’t a coherent word in Lachlan’s head. This was more like a sensation that had started in his eyes but was now trickling down to every cell in his body. A rather overwhelming sensation but that was entirely appropriate, given that he was actually walking towards what had to be the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen in his life.

  She had blonde hair that didn’t quite touch her shoulders and it was parted in the middle. Not quite curly but wavy enough to make a delicious frame for a face that was, quite simply, perfect. Big blue eyes. A cute snub nose. A generous mouth that looked as if it was made for laughter.

  The rest of her body was just as amazing. It only took the briefest of glances to take in slim legs covered in faded denim and tucked into knee-high boots, a soft white shirt that hung loose onto her hips. The denim waistcoat and a couple of unusual, silver chain necklaces told him instantly that this woman had her own style and personality. That she was...different...

  It was only a fraction of time before he looked back at her face but there was no hint of a smile there. That didn’t stop Lachlan from finding his own—the one that never failed.

  ‘My day just got a whole lot better,’ he told her. ‘If you’re the Felicity Stephens that’s come from London Locums, that is.’

  She was staring at him.

  ‘If you’re who I think you are, I was told that you’re a doctor?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m Lachlan McKendry. It’s my—’

  She interrupted him. ‘A plastic surgeon, yes?’

  ‘Also correct.’ That direct stare was a little disconcerting now. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Well, I’m wondering if it’s in a professional capacity that you’re assessing my body in quite such an obvious manner.’ There was a definite hint of a smile on her face now, as she turned away from him. ‘I’m quite happy with my boobs as they are, thanks.’

  Oh...he wanted to say that he agreed wholeheartedly but he wasn’t about to open his mouth again in a hurry. He’d never had a slap like that when he’d tried to turn on the charm. Okay...flirt a little. Who wouldn’t when they met the most beau
tiful girl in the world? And maybe that was the problem. Looking like that, this locum nurse probably had to deal with being hit on all the time. No wonder he had annoyed her and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

  He needed to fix this.

  And fast.

  Felicity Stephens was the key to his being in control of this current disturbance in his life and Lachlan couldn’t afford to antagonise her. Taking the steps two at a time, he caught up with her just before she reached for the lion’s head brass door knocker. He also caught her gaze.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Felicity,’ he said quietly. ‘I was a little overexcited to see you—but it’s because I’ve had a rather difficult day and I suspect you might very well be the answer to my prayers.’

  She held his gaze, as if gauging whether his apology was genuine or not. Lachlan could almost feel himself lowering his guard—just enough that she would see a glimpse of a version of himself that nobody ever really got to see.

  She blinked. ‘And I probably overreacted,’ she said. ‘I could blame jet lag because I only got off a flight from Australia at lunchtime today. Or...’ There was a flash of humour in those astonishingly blue eyes. ‘It could be being called “Felicity” that got my back up. I’m Flick, except for official identification, like in my passport.’

  Flick...

  A name that was as different as she was. This woman was getting more intriguing by the minute but Lachlan didn’t say anything. He just nodded as he pushed open the enormous front door of his childhood home.

  ‘Please come in,’ he invited. ‘I’m quite sure that my mother is going to be just as delighted to meet you as I am.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘WHO ARE YOU?’ Lady Josephine McKendry looked a lot less than delighted when she was introduced to Flick.

  ‘This is Felicity Stephens, Mother.’ Lachlan straightened from having kissed his mother’s cheek. ‘One of the best nurses that London Locums has on their books, I’ve been told. We’re lucky enough that she happens to be available and she’s come to meet you. Oh, and she prefers to be called “Flick”.’

  Lady Josephine snorted rather inelegantly. ‘That’s the name for a fire engine, not a person. Didn’t there used to be some dreadful children’s song about that?’ She rested a piercing gaze on Flick for a breath before turning back to the window beside her armchair. ‘You can both go away. I’m not in the mood to be shown off to someone like some interesting medical specimen.’ She seemed to be completely focused on the beautiful, formal garden that was fading into the dusk as part of the much wider view offered from the first floor of this house.

  Flick caught Lachlan’s gaze. She should give up now and just walk out because it was quite clear she wasn’t wanted. Needed, perhaps, but that wasn’t her problem, was it? This was Lachlan McKendry’s mother and he was here so he could look after her, even if it was more than a little inconvenient.

  But something was stopping her.

  Something that was complex enough to intrigue her.

  The tension between this mother and son was palpable. It almost felt as if Josephine hated her child but what mother could ever do that? It also felt like her lack of warmth was something that was still hurtful to Lachlan even though he had to be a few years older than Flick, who was in her early thirties. You’d think that she would, at least, be proud of a son who had achieved so much at an early age. A son who was famous, admittedly very good looking and...sophisticated? Was that the word Flick needed to encompass the kind of charm—charisma, even—that this man exuded?

  But that was something else that was intriguing. Because Flick knew that Lachlan’s persona was a front. A shop window that gave nothing away about what could be on offer if you were allowed inside. She might not have guessed, despite having cultivated an image of her own that prevented anyone getting close to who she really was, except for that tiny moment in time—no more than a heartbeat, really—when he’d apologised for being such a blatant flirt and she’d seen something in his eyes that had had nothing to do with the over-confident, charming and superficial barrier he’d created.

  She’d had a similar moment of insight when Lady Josephine had glared at her before turning away. Just enough to know that this rather frail, older woman was frightened.

  Of dying? That would be understandable, given her fragile health. She wasn’t exactly geriatric, either. If Lachlan was in his mid-thirties, Lady Josephine might only be in her early seventies. Late sixties, even?

  Or was it because of something even deeper than that? Dying alone, maybe, because of what had happened to cause such a rift between herself and her son?

  Whatever. In spite of the bone-deep weariness that only jet lag could create and an emptiness that made Flick realise it had been far too long since she’d eaten anything substantial, she couldn’t walk out on the puzzle these people presented. People who had everything, it would seem—the most gorgeous house she’d ever seen, in the most idyllic setting, and unlimited funds to keep it that way—but they were both miserable. No, that was the wrong word. They would probably both empathically deny that they were less than happy. Because they didn’t want to recognise it themselves?

  She took a step closer to Lady Josephine’s chair. ‘I don’t need to be here for long,’ she said calmly. ‘But you might need some assistance until you can choose your own private nurse. Could I help you with your evening medications, perhaps?’

  Lady Josephine sniffed. ‘You’re far too pretty to be looking after old, sick people,’ she said. ‘Stuck in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Flick murmured. She didn’t dare look at Lachlan because that would remind them both of that small altercation when they’d met.

  Lady Josephine turned her head. ‘Why aren’t you married?’ she demanded.

  Flick’s eyes widened. ‘Are you married?’

  ‘That’s none of your damned business.’

  Flick’s smile was one-sided. ‘Exactly.’

  One side of Lady Josephine’s mouth twitched, as if she was amused by the response, but she hadn’t finished.

  ‘Who was your last patient?’

  ‘An elderly gentleman who lived in Sydney, Australia. His name was Stanley.’

  ‘What was wrong with him?’

  ‘He was unwell with quite a few underlying health issues. A bit like yourself, I believe.’

  ‘What happened to him? Why did you leave?’

  ‘He died,’ Flick said quietly.

  Lady Josephine snorted again. ‘You didn’t look after him very well, then, did you?’

  ‘Mother...’ Lachlan’s protest was ignored by both the women.

  ‘He was quite happy with my care,’ Flick told his mother. ‘Mind you, it was a bit hard to tell because he covered up how he was really feeling by being impossibly grumpy and demanding. Also a bit like yourself, I suspect, Lady Josephine.’

  She could hear a stifled laugh from Lachlan’s direction. More surprisingly, it was obvious that Lady Josephine was on the point of losing her own battle not to smile.

  ‘You’ll do,’ she said, turning back to the window again. ‘You’re feisty. I rather like feisty.’ She waved her hand. ‘Go over to that table over there and sort out the mess my housekeeper’s made with all my medications. The stupid woman couldn’t even bring herself to check my blood sugar level.’

  ‘That sounds like a good place to start, then.’ Again, Flick caught Lachlan’s gaze as she walked past him to get to the table. Her glance was a warning not to take anything for granted, however. ‘Low blood sugar can make anyone grumpy,’ she murmured. ‘I might as well make myself useful while I’m here.’

  Lachlan’s smile was unexpectedly genuine. ‘Thanks. I’ll go and make myself useful too, and see what Tilly’s organised for our dinner. It’ll be worth staying for, I promise.’

  * * *

  Tender roa
st beef and vegetables like crispy potatoes and soft, sweet triangles of pumpkin, Yorkshire puddings and a rich gravy made from pan drippings had always been Lachlan’s absolute favourite meal. Tilly had set the table in the formal dining room but Lachlan had instinctively vetoed the choice.

  ‘We’ll eat here in the kitchen,’ he told the housekeeper. ‘It’s so much more homely and...and I’m rather hoping to persuade this nurse to stay. I think she might even have Mother wrapped around her little finger already.’

  Tilly chuckled. ‘That’ll be the day. Do you want to take her tray up or shall I?’

  ‘I’ll do it. If Flick’s not done with the medications, I can give her a hand. Poor thing must be dead on her feet. She only flew in from Australia today.’

  ‘Nothing that a bit of my good home cooking won’t fix, I’m sure. And a good sleep. I’ve got the guest suite made up for her and that’s a very comfortable bed.’

  Mrs Tillman was not only the head gardener’s wife and the housekeeper, she was cook, cleaner, secretary and mother figure and Lachlan had no hesitation in giving her a hug.

  ‘You’re the one person in my life that I’ve always been able to rely on, you know that?’

  ‘Oh, get away with you.’

  Mrs Tillman gave him a push and Lachlan was laughing as he turned to find that Flick had come into the kitchen. Oh, help...had she heard what he’d just said? And did it matter if she had? Yeah, it kind of did. For whatever reason—even if it was just to persuade Flick to stay in the house—it seemed of paramount importance to impress her, and revealing that his childhood housekeeper had been more important than anyone else in his life might seem...well...unimpressive? A bit pathetic, even?

  But she was smiling. ‘Something smells amazing,’ she said. ‘The last meal I had was the plastic kind you get on planes and I can’t even remember how long ago that was now. I’m Flick, by the way...’ She held out her hand. ‘And I’m guessing you’re Mrs Tillman?’