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200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick
Louisa George
Junior surgeon Kara has been assigned her first high-profile case.Great news – if she wasn’t working with surgeon Declan Underwood, the man she kissed at the hospital ball! Declan’s notoriety with women is rivalled only by his reputation as the best reconstructive surgeon! But Kara’s about to discover there’s more to her charismatic maverick than meets the eye…200 HARLEY STREET Glamour, intensity, desire – the lives and loves of London’s hottest team of surgeons!
Praise for Louisa George (#u7ab7e3fa-08ec-5cff-9b7c-dd83f3102721):
‘A moving, uplifting and feel-good romance packed with witty dialogue, intense emotion and sizzling love scenes.’
—goodreads.com on HOW TO RESIST A HEARTBREAKER
‘Louisa George is a bright star at Mills & Boon
and I can highly recommend this book to those that believe romance rocks the world.’
—goodreads.com on HOW TO RESIST A HEARTBREAKER
‘A refreshing, captivating and breathtaking medical romance.’
—Romance Book Paradise on THE LAST DOCTOR SHE SHOULD EVER DATE ‘ONE MONTH TO BECOME A MUM is one story you don’t want to miss!’ —Harlequinjunkie.com
A lifelong reader of most genres, LOUISA GEORGE discovered romance novels later than most, but immediately fell in love with the intensity of emotion, the high drama and the family focus of Mills & Boon
Medical Romance™.
With a Bachelor’s Degree in Communication and a nursing qualification under her belt, writing medical romance seemed a natural progression, and the perfect combination of her two interests. And making things up is a great way to spend the day!
An English ex-pat, Louisa now lives north of Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two teenage sons and two male cats. Writing romance is her opportunity to covertly inject a hefty dose of pink into her heavily testosterone-dominated household. When she’s not writing or researching Louisa loves to spend time with her family and friends, enjoys travelling, and adores great food. She’s also hopelessly addicted to Zumba
.
200 Harley Street:
The Shameless
Maverick
Louisa George
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader
When I was invited to take part in the 200 Harley Street continuity I was absolutely thrilled—not only because this is my first ever Mills & Boon
Medical Romance
continuity contribution, but because it also meant I got the chance to work closely with some amazing authors and some very interesting plotlines. So a big thank you to everyone for taking a newbie under your collective wings!
Declan Underwood and Kara Stephens come from two very different worlds, but both have fled to London to start new lives in their chosen field of Burns and Plastic Medicine. Falling in love is definitely not on the cards for either of them, so it’s very inconvenient when a mutual attraction starts to sizzle!
Australian Kara was a joy to write: she’s funny and confident and shares my love of shoes. Like many of us, she’ll live with pain in exchange for a decent heel and the softest of soft suede! But she also has a history of choosing the wrong men, so staying away from Declan is her preferred course of action.
But who can resist a bad-boy Irishman? Farmboy Declan, with his smoulderingly good looks and an accent that purrs as sexily as his motorbike, has no intention of getting involved with Kara; his life is already too full of commitments to his career and providing for his mother and four sisters. But that’s where I come in: plotting ways of getting them together even when they don’t want to be anywhere near each other …
I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Drop me a line at louisageorgeauthor@gmail.com (mailto:louisageorgeauthor@gmail.com) or visit me at www.louisageorge.com (http://www.louisageorge.com)
Happy reading!
Louisa x
Dedication (#u7ab7e3fa-08ec-5cff-9b7c-dd83f3102721)
To Kamy Chetty, thanks for all your support, positive words and help with the icky medical details (any errors are totally mine). xx
And to Jane Beckenham, without you I just wouldn’t be here writing this—thank you so much for all your support, enthusiasm and words of wisdom and for introducing me to the world of romance books … this one’s for you! xx
Table of Contents
Cover (#ueecde214-7a2e-5c21-bab3-8008d816867d)
Praise for Louisa George
About the Author (#ueab5bd97-1b50-5b02-82bb-01b4a02d788f)
Title Page (#ucd685230-0017-5f52-87ea-6063e7839c79)
Dedication
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
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u7ab7e3fa-08ec-5cff-9b7c-dd83f3102721)
‘MAKE SURE TO get my best side, won’t you now?’ Declan Underwood joked to the army of paparazzi camped on the front steps of Princess Catherine’s Hospital as he parked his motorbike and removed his helmet.
He smiled towards his clicking, whirring audience, who clearly had nothing better to do than chase ambulances on a sunny summer morning, and tried to hide his growing irritation. The last thing he needed was more unwarranted delays, today of all days. He was not in the mood to be polite.
Making his way up the pale stone steps, he batted away questions like a tennis ace.
‘Is Princess Safia here?’ someone shouted from behind a long lens. ‘Is she going to make a full recovery? Will she be scarred for life?’
‘Now, come on, give a guy a break. I can’t hear one for the other.’ Toeing both the clinic’s and his own staunch professional line, Declan exhaled slowly and waited for them to settle. ‘As you know, ladies and gents, my hands are tied. There’s a young girl’s privacy to think of. I just can’t make any comment.’
Note: make sure the blinds are closed at all times. Move her to a higher floor. Increase security.
Sure, both the Hunter Clinic and the hospital affectionately known as Kate’s relied on positive press to further their reach and their work, but this was way too much interest in a young girl fighting for her life, regardless of her background.
Small wonder the Sheikh’s staff had been definitive in their demands to uphold their privacy. If any of Declan’s family had been involved in a tragedy such as this he’d want to protect them too.
He shuddered and damped down the tight squeeze in his chest. Had protected them, for all the good that had done.
‘Come on, Declan, it’s no coincidence that you—the country’s foremost burns reconstruction surgeon—are here and there’s a private flight scheduled to arrive from Aljahar any minute.’
Was that Fi … something—the journalist he’d spent a few dates with not so long ago? Trying to use her inside contacts to get more information? Tut-tut. Declan flashed her a particular smile. Similar to the one he’d given her as he’d left for the last time, whenever it was, that said, Hey, don’t push it.
With all the smiling his jaw muscles had begun to ache, but he knew that the Hunter Clinic boss, Leo, wouldn’t want his second-in-command to jeopardise the clinic’s new positive relationship with the media. ‘I’m so sorry, but you all know that I’m in no position to confirm or deny any rumours. You all know too that even if I did have any idea as to the whereabouts or condition of Princess Safia I couldn’t tell you a thing. The Sheikh, quite rightly, is very keen on confidentiality. But I’m sure he and his family appreciate all the concern and will issue a statement as and when appropriate. Now we need to leave the family alone to recover. And I need to go to work. Thank you so much.’
Closing the door behind him to a barrage of more camera flashes, he exhaled deeply and headed towards the burns unit. Two extensive surgeries, an afternoon clinic and an evening meeting amidst a swirl of media frenzy about a royal with devastating facial burns loomed ahead of him.
It was going to be a very long day.
‘You. Yes, you. Stop. Wait.’
A heavily accented raised male voice out in the hospital corridor drew Declan’s attention from the notes he was reviewing at his desk over his hastily snatched lunch break.
‘What’s all that noise on the street? The photographers? Newspapers? His Highness specifically said he wanted Sheikha Safia’s arrival to be discreet. His daughter is suffering and she needs peace and quiet. She is devastated about her injuries …’
‘Yes, I understand entirely,’ an unfamiliar voice with an Antipodean twang replied. ‘I have already spoken to Security and they are planning to transfer the Princess through the back door.’ Despite the clipped tones the voice was remarkably calm, smoky. Distinctly feminine. Declan put down the papers and listened.
The male voice cut in. ‘We understood Mr Underwood himself was going to oversee every detail.’
‘Of the surgery and treatment phases, yes, absolutely, but not everything on this list …’
She paused. Declan heard a rustling of paper.
‘He’s not responsible for the sheet thread count, or the menus or the quality of the glassware … I’ll get the services manager to check through all of that …’
‘And lilies—we asked for white lilies to decorate her room.’
‘Of course. The lilies. Item twenty-two.’
Not an ounce of agitation.
‘Unfortunately we don’t allow fresh flowers onto the burns unit. It’s an infection control issue.’
‘No?’
Agitation rippled off the man’s voice in streams enough for both of them.
‘But for the Sheikha you can do such a thing. She never stays anywhere without lilies. Be warned: His Highness expects high standards and he will get them. His daughter is the very most precious thing to him and he hates her to be upset. I insist you bend the rules.’
‘And I insist you leave the medical professionals to implement the rules, sir. We have them for a reason. No fresh flowers. The pollen can infect the wounds and make our patients very sick. It’s something we’re very strict about. No exceptions.’
Declan’s interest was piqued. Management had certainly stepped up their game by employing her. He smiled, imagining a stare-off between the mystery woman and the Sheikh’s aide.
‘Is there anything else? Sir?’
‘Do not take that tone. The Sheikh is very powerful and can have you removed from your position with just one word.’
The smile was wiped from Declan’s face. No one spoke to a member of staff in that way—whoever she was, and however spirited.
He scraped back his chair and walked into the corridor, watching the exchange from a distance, ready to pounce and squash the man if anything got out of hand. He got the feeling the woman wouldn’t thank him for interfering and for what that might imply: that she couldn’t handle it. When she clearly could. Bringing up his younger sisters had taught him to leave them alone with their arguments and only get involved if things got physical.
‘Well, I have a few words I could use too … but I won’t.’ With a voice so prickly, he hadn’t expected the woman to be so young and soft. She had her back to him, but something about her rang bells in Declan’s brain. Familiar bells. Warning bells.
The ponytail of light blonde curls, the neat curves in an ice-pink silk blouse and a straight black skirt that skimmed her knees—just. Sky-high black shoes with a razor-sharp heel that surely no one could feasibly walk in but which made her legs look impossibly long and … deeply sexy. A back as straight as a blade, and that voice … smoky … yes … Australian …?
‘Let me assure you, sir,’ she continued, ‘that Safia will receive the finest care in the world here. And if, instead of dealing with your … housekeeping requests, I could finish my preparations for her admission and initial medical assessment, and then actually deal with the injuries she has sustained, we could all make Safia’s stay a lot more comfortable.’
The aide stared at her as she rallied.
‘I’m sure His Highness would not like to hear that the medical team were held up due to lilies? Glassware? I thought not. We are done here?’
Oh, God. The headache that had bloomed after Declan’s sister’s early morning phone call threatened to return. This woman was on his medical team? Since when? And why had no one consulted him about it? Declan didn’t like surprises. He always liked to know exactly what he was dealing with, and he’d made that damned clear to the powers-that-be.
The Sheikh’s aide blanched and bowed slightly. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. Of course, Doctor … You know what’s best.’
‘Yes. Thank you. We do.’
As she turned to watch the aide scuttle away her eyes locked on to Declan’s. Her smile slipped completely, and a tinge of pink hit her cheeks. ‘Oh.’
