Книга - Dating Dr Delicious

Dating Dr Delicious
Laura Iding






“Good job. Looks like the tube is in place.” His low voice was reassuring. Almost mesmerizing. Relief made Hannah’s knees feel weak, but she stiffened them with an effort. Her job was only partially done. “You’ll need to get a chest X-ray to confirm placement.”

“Will do,” she said, as she handed over the task of securing the tube to the nurse standing beside her. Once she was free to move aside, she glanced up at her rescuer.

And froze when his glittering green gaze slammed into hers.

The force of the collision made her heart drop to the soles of her feet. The room whirled and there was a loud roaring in her ears.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

Jake. Her Jake. Her one-night-stand-Jake was here.

The flare of shock reflected in his gaze almost made her feel better. At least she wasn’t the only one knocked off-balance at seeing him again. But then she noticed the name on his ID badge and the sick feeling in her gut returned.

Great. Just what she needed. Not only was Jake a doctor here at the hospital.

He was Dr. Holt. The attending physician on duty. And the Chief of Trauma Surgery!

The man she’d impulsively spent the night with was the same man who could make or break her career.


Dear Reader

When I was young, I wanted to be a doctor. (Didn’t we all?) However, back then women didn’t have quite the same opportunities as men, and following that career path required a huge time commitment. So I settled on becoming a nurse instead.

I’ve always admired those who did make the sacrifice needed to become a doctor. So I decided to write a story where the heroine becomes a surgeon against the most overwhelming odds.

Hannah Stewart has studied hard and worked several jobs on her path to becoming a surgeon. She’s determined that nothing and no one will get in her way. Including the hot Chief of Trauma Surgery Jake Holt. After an incredible night with Hannah, Jake is stunned to discover she is one of his new interns, assigned to the trauma rotation. A relationship between them is completely out of the question. Or is it?

I hope you enjoy Hannah and Jake’s story. Don’t hesitate to visit my website or find me on Facebook. I love to hear from my readers.

Sincerely

Laura Iding

www.lauraiding.com


Laura Iding loved reading as a child, and when she ran out of books she readily made up her own, completing a little detective mini-series when she was twelve. But, despite her aspirations for being an author, her parents insisted she look into a ‘real’ career. So the summer after she turned thirteen she volunteered as a Candy Striper, and fell in love with nursing. Now, after twenty years of experience in trauma/critical care, Laura lives in the northern part of the United States, and spends all her spare time with her two teenage kids (help!)—a daughter and a son—and her husband. Enjoy!


Dating Dr Delicious

Laura Iding






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my editor, Meg Lewis.

It’s always a pleasure working with you!


CONTENTS

Chapter One (#ufc080b24-35e5-59c2-9db1-e8570897c004)

Chapter Two (#u0dcc7334-5605-50b2-a42c-198c6d88ea05)

Chapter Three (#u899714b1-f534-5f63-8b78-85b948d0bc32)

Chapter Four (#u8b6f5719-c3ca-5f05-ad9e-7997d22f7f65)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

HANNAH Stewart woke up, momentarily confused by the darkness. Then she remembered.

There were no lights from the city shining in through her curtainless windows because she wasn’t at home. She was at Jake’s condo.

An odd mixture of pleasure and shame washed over her. Good heavens, what in the world had gotten into her? Allowing Jake to take her to his place last night had been completely out of character. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to regret her impulsive decision.

Or rather she refused to regret one second of the pleasure she’d spent in Jake’s arms.

But fantasy time was over. Carefully, she lifted her head from the pillow to better read the small alarm clock on the bedside table. It was half past three in the morning.

Late. Or early. Depending on your frame of reference.

Regardless, she needed to leave. Now. Her last day of freedom was over and she needed to get home and pull herself together before heading to the hospital.

Gently, so as not to wake the man sleeping soundly beside her, she eased out from beneath the covers. When she stood, taking her weight off the mattress, Jake muttered and shifted restlessly. She froze, holding her breath until she was reassured he hadn’t woken up.

Daring to breathe again, she blindly felt around the floor for her clothes, before remembering that she’d likely left most of them in the living room.

The memory of their frantic lovemaking made her blush. Never before had she let herself go so freely as the way she had with the devilishly attractive Jake. She’d lost count of how many times they’d made love. Her body still ached in the most unusual places.

She slipped from the bedroom and headed down the hall, into the living room. She stubbed her toe on the glass-and-chrome coffee table and had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out in pain. In the flurry of sexual activity, she’d only gotten a glimpse of the interior of Jake’s condo, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light from the window, she looked around curiously.

She wrinkled her nose, somewhat disappointed to see that he went for the expensive, modern type of dcor. Not that it mattered, except the chrome and glass seemed a bit impersonal. And the so-called art on the walls made her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

Hmm. She obviously didn’t get it.

The sense of shame intensified. She didn’t belong in the world of sailboats, yachts and fancy high-rise condos. And she’d been silly even to try. Once she became a surgeon, she still couldn’t imagine herself living like this. She’d gone into medicine to help people, not to become rich and famous.

Fantasy time was definitely over.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she picked up her clothes, strewn from one corner of the room to the other. She blushed again as she pulled on her yellow bikini, limping as she favored her sore toe. She pulled on the blouse and shorts over the top, slipped her feet into her flip-flop sandals and reached for her purse.

“Going somewhere?” Jake asked.

Her heart shot into her throat and she gasped, spinning around toward him. He stood in the hallway wearing nothing but a scowl on his face and low-slung boxers. Refusing to be distracted by his muscular bare chest, she tried to keep her gaze steady as the seconds dragged out into a long, uncomfortable minute. “Yes. I—uh, have to go.”

His gaze bored into hers. “Without saying goodbye?”

Embarrassed, she glanced away. Okay, maybe she was out of practice with this stuff but, really, what did he expect? They didn’t even know each other’s last names.

She shoved aside the flash of guilt. People did this all the time, right? Right. “Look, it was great. Spectacular, really. You were...absolutely amazing. But I have an important meeting to attend this morning so I really need to get home.”

His gaze never wavered. “Fine. I’ll drive you.”

“No!” Her refusal came out more harshly than she’d intended. But for some reason she wasn’t anxious for him to know where she lived. Besides, from this day forward her life was not her own. She had no idea what he did for work, but whatever it was, she was certain he’d have far more free time than she would. “I mean, don’t bother. I’ll get a cab.” Or the subway.

“Hannah,” he protested, starting toward her, but she picked up her purse and quickly opened the door, effectively cutting him off.

“Goodbye, Jake. You’ll never know how badly I needed what we shared last night. Thanks for everything.” She slipped out of the condo and hastily walked down the hall to the elevators. She held her breath, hoping, praying he didn’t follow.

When the elevator dinged, she couldn’t help throwing a glance over her shoulder, surprised to discover he’d followed her out. Standing there, his broad-muscled shoulder propped up against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked incredibly sexy, especially with the way his tousled black hair framed his hard, chiseled face.

A wave of regret hit hard and she stumbled, almost falling flat on her face.

Dear God, he was like a giant magnet pulling every cell in her body back toward him. She really, really didn’t want to leave.

But she had to.

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to regain her equilibrium, flashing him a weak smile and a tiny wave before disappearing inside the waiting elevator.

As the doors closed she heard him murmur, “Goodbye, Hannah.”

She closed her eyes and slumped against the wall of the elevator, running a hand through her hopelessly tangled hair. Tears of regret stung her eyes and she quickly swiped them away. What in the world was wrong with her?

He was just a man. An incredibly sexy, fiercely attractive man, yes. But still a man.

It was better to make a clean break. As much as she had enjoyed being with him, she didn’t have time for a man.

Or a relationship.

Not that Jake had even remotely offered such a thing, she reminded herself sternly.

People had one-night stands all the time, and she was pretty sure none of the participants stood around dissecting every moment after the fact. So why was she second-guessing herself? Sex was good. Sex was healthy. They’d had a great time together and now it was over.

End of discussion.

Hannah hailed a cab and rode through the dark streets to the less glitzy part of town. The warehouse apartment she shared with Margie was scantily and eclectically furnished, but boasted huge windows along two walls. True to form, her roommate wasn’t home. Margie had obviously spent the night with her boyfriend, Bryan.

Relieved to discover that Margie wasn’t there to grill her over what had happened, she made her way to her bedroom.

Normally she liked to drink a cup of coffee while looking out at the sun rising over the water, but today she was too anxious to try to relax so she simply showered and dressed. The subway ride to the hospital didn’t take long and she made it to Chicago Care with fifteen minutes to spare.

Thank God she wasn’t late on her very first day. In fact, she felt oddly energized.

A night of spectacular sex could do that for you.

She tried her best to wipe the crooked grin off her face.

The general-surgery conference room on the fifth floor contained about thirty-five people—interns, just like herself, waiting to start their first day as doctors.

A sliver of anticipation mixed with a healthy dose of fear filled her chest. This was it. The moment she’d been waiting for. She was officially a doctor.

Dr. Hannah Stewart.

Yesterday, she’d celebrated the end of her old life. The eight-year grind of working, studying and then working some more. Balancing two jobs to support herself and her family while managing to keep decent grades through medical school hadn’t been easy. She’d spent most of her time during medical school alone. Hadn’t she deserved one night of fun, of recklessness? Of letting loose and having fun? Of doing something just for herself and no one else?

Maybe she’d taken her celebration a little too far by going home to spend the night with Jake, but that didn’t matter. There was no point in ruminating over the past. She was moving on to the next stage of her career. She’d waited for this day for what seemed like forever. Growing up, they’d lived from one paycheck to the next. And, truthfully, her years of college and medical school hadn’t been much different. Even with a massive loan to pay her tuition, she’d still struggled to make ends meet.

Despite the odds that had been steeply stacked against her from the moment she’d left high school, she’d made it. She’d passed her medical boards. She’d been accepted into the surgical residency program.

Hannah lifted her chin stubbornly. She’d made it this far, and she was bound and determined to make it through the grueling five years before her, too.

Nothing and no one was going to stand in her way.

* * *

Hannah was sharply disappointed to discover the entire first two days of being a new intern meant being stuck in new-employee orientation training for hours on end. Granted, the information was obviously important, and full of rules she tried hard to commit to memory, but sitting in the large lecture hall had been extremely anticlimactic.

Being with her fellow interns wasn’t too bad. She bonded a little bit with one of the few female residents, a strikingly beautiful caramel-skinned young woman by the name of Andrea Barkley. It was a little disturbing to know that the odds were, in fact, stacked against them. The surgical residency program was brutal, one of the reasons many women rarely got in. Or, if they did get in, they didn’t make it all the way through the program.

Or so she’d heard from her former boyfriend, Alec, who had been an intern when she’d been a junior medical student. No wonder their brief relationship hadn’t lasted very long.

The jerk hadn’t been the least bit supportive of her dream to become a surgeon. In fact, she’d had the sense he was threatened by her knowledge and determination. As if they were in some sort of competition or something. He never hesitated to make her feel stupid. And he wasn’t supportive of her family issues, either. Or of her need to work two jobs.

She was much better off without him.

For a moment the image of Jake’s laughing face filled her mind. She ruthlessly shoved it aside.

She didn’t have time for men. Even one as sexy and charming as Jake. There was no point in wondering if Jake would be supportive of her chosen career. Or supportive of her messed-up family.

Jake would be nothing more than a distraction she couldn’t afford.

Hannah met up with Andrea in the female surgical-residency locker room on the third day, relieved to discover they had been assigned to the same rotation, trauma surgery, for the month of July. Today was their first day taking care of real, live patients.

Hannah proudly donned her knee-length lab coat over her scrubs. The medical students were forced to wear short lab coats so that it was clear to the hospital staff that they were only students.

Now it would be clear to the hospital staff that she was a doctor. A surgical resident responsible for treating patients. She tucked her stethoscope into her pocket and took a deep breath.

She could do this. She’d studied hard and trained for this.

“Are you nervous?” Hannah whispered to Andrea as they walked down to the busy arena, the heart of activity in any emergency department. There were patients everywhere. Patients that were counting on them as residents to have a clue as to what might be wrong with them.

She quickly squelched the sliver of self-doubt.

“No.” Andrea glanced at her for a long moment and then shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

They walked up and introduced themselves to the senior resident on Trauma, Dr. Richard Reynolds.

He didn’t look thrilled to be saddled with two new residents. Did he have a grudge against females being in the program? Hannah wasn’t sure, but remained determined to prove him wrong, no matter what his assumptions were.

“There are a couple of trauma patients on the way in from a motor-vehicle crash,” Richard said. “I want each of you to take one of the patients. The attending on call today is Dr. Holt and both of us will be here if you need help. Any questions?”

Traumas? On their first day caring for patients? The look on the senior resident’s face was almost sneering, as if he expected them to balk at the responsibility. So Hannah straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No questions.”

His gaze narrowed a bit, but then he nodded. “Good.”

Just then the doors from the ambulance bay burst open and two gurneys were wheeled in. For a moment panic stole her breath, but then a sense of calm came over her, as she took control of the first patient.

“James Turkow is a twenty-five-year-old restrained driver T-boned by another vehicle,” the paramedic announced. “Vitals were stable, and he was alert and oriented on the scene, but during transport became less responsive.”

Probable head injury, Hannah decided. But the bluish tint to his lips was concerning, so she pulled her stethoscope from her pocket and quickly listened to his lungs. Definitely not good. From what she could tell, he wasn’t moving nearly enough air to sustain life.

“Get me the intubation tray,” she ordered, pulling the oxygen mask and ambu-bag off the regulator on the wall to begin bagging him. With a flick of her wrist she turned the oxygen up to one hundred percent. “This guy needs an airway.”

The nurse quickly pulled out the emergency airway kit, handing over a laryngoscope and blade. “What size tube?”

“Eight.” Hannah quickly pulled on gloves and then took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. While the nurse placed the stylet into the endotracheal tube, she gently inserted the blade into her patient’s mouth and pulled upward—the way she had been taught—to search for his vocal cords.

Except she didn’t see them.

For a moment panic surged, and she frantically glanced around for Richard, the senior resident. Where in the heck was he? Didn’t he know she might need help? But Richard wasn’t readily available, so she tried again, tipping the young man’s head back farther and looking once again, down the back of his throat. Her left hand wielded the laryngoscope and she pulled upward, keeping away from his teeth to avoid damaging them.

“Easy, now, you’re doing fine,” a deep male voice said near her ear. Just knowing she wasn’t alone was enough to calm her frayed nerves. “Pull up just a little more. There, see the cords?”

Amazingly, she did see them. Trying to hold her left hand steady, she used her right hand to thread the ETT down through the patient’s vocal cords.

“Excellent,” the voice murmured. “Now remove the stylet and begin bagging. I’ll take a listen to make sure you’re in the right spot.”

She nodded, taking care to keep the tube firmly in place as she did as he requested. She kept her gaze trained on the patient’s chest, noticing with satisfaction that the chest rose and fell with every breath she gave with the ambu-bag.

“Good job. Looks like the tube is in place.” His low voice was reassuring. Almost mesmerizing. Relief made her knees feel weak, but she stiffened them with an effort. Her job was only partially done. “You’ll need to get a chest X-ray to confirm placement.”

“Will do,” she said, as she handed over the task of securing the tube to the nurse standing beside her. Once she was free to move aside, she glanced up at her rescuer.

And froze, when his glittering green gaze slammed into hers.

The force of the collision made her heart plummet, the room whirled and there was a loud roaring in her ears.

No. It couldn’t be. But it was.

Jake. Her Jake. Her one-night-stand-Jake was here. At Chicago Care.

The flare of shock reflected in his gaze almost made her feel better. At least she wasn’t the only one knocked off balance. But then she noticed the name on his ID badge and the sick feeling in her gut returned.

Great. Just what she needed. Not only was Jake a doctor here at the hospital. He was Dr. Holt. The attending physician on duty. And Chief of Trauma Surgery!

The man she’d impulsively spent the night with was the man who could make or break her career.


CHAPTER TWO

JAKE could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Hannah wearing light blue scrubs and a long white lab coat, her long blonde hair pulled back in some sort of fancy braid. Dr. Stewart. The name on her ID tag mocked him.

Hannah—the girl he’d seen on the sailboat wearing the bright yellow bikini—was an intern? A first-year surgical resident? Here at Chicago Care?

A stab of betrayal hit hard.

She’d known all along exactly who he was.

Hard to believe he was stupid enough to have made the same mistake twice in one lifetime, but he had. Swallowing the lump of bitterness in the back of his throat, he forced himself to keep his attention on the task at hand. There was a seriously injured patient needing their assistance, so this was hardly the time, or the place, to call Hannah out on her behavior.

But she’d certainly played her role well, that’s for sure. He’d taken the bait, falling for the ploy without once considering he’d been set up.

Tearing his gaze away from hers, he glanced down at the patient. “Order a stat chest X-ray to verify this tube placement,” he said to the nurse. “And I also want a full set of labs.”

The nurse headed for the nearest phone.

When he turned back toward Hannah, he noticed she was continuing her trauma assessment as another nurse drew the blood. Clearly, Hannah wasn’t nearly as shocked to see him as he was to recognize her.

“His lung sounds are very diminished on the right side,” Hannah said, pulling the stethoscope from her ears. “And his belly is tense, no bowel sounds present. He probably has a head injury, seeing as he’s still unconscious. So far, though, his pupils are equal and reactive.”

Trying very hard not to remember what she’d looked like naked, he gave a curt nod. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

“Get a CT of his head, chest and abdomen, continue to monitor his neuro status closely.”

“Fine. Let me know as soon as you have some diagnostic results.” He moved away, intending to check on the second patient in the motor-vehicle crash. Richard was assisting the other female intern, Dr. Barkley, with that one, and from what he could tell, they had the patient under control.

Hannah’s patient was by far the sicker of the two.

“Dr. Holt?” Hannah’s familiar husky voice caused a reaction deep down, making him grind his teeth in frustration. He refused to be made a fool of again.

“What?” he snapped.

“The chest X-ray has been completed, but his abdomen is growing more tense by the minute,” she said, pulling aside the hospital gown to show him. “I think he’s bleeding internally. Do you want me to perform a peritoneal lavage?”

He didn’t want to be impressed by her sharp assessment skills, or the way she managed to remain calm in the middle of a crisis. “Have you done one before?”

“Yes.” Even as she responded, Hannah pulled out the peritoneal-lavage tray and began prepping the patient. If she was nervous, she didn’t let on. Once the patient’s skin was prepped, she pulled on a pair of sterile gloves and then carefully measured two centimeters above the umbilicus. Using the scalpel, she made a quick incision.

“Nice job,” he said, before he could stop himself. Once she’d deftly inserted the catheter, she opened up the IV of fluid and then watched, as he did, for the results. He wasn’t surprised she’d been right, when bloody drainage came flowing out. “Guess this guy has earned a trip to the O.R.”

Hannah’s eyes widened a bit. “Right now?”

“As soon as possible. But we need to know the status of his labs before we go anywhere.”

“His hemoglobin is low at ten,” one of the nurses reported. “And he’s not oxygenating very well, either, with a PO two of seventy-eight.”

“Transfuse two units of blood now, and then make sure he has four units of blood on hand at all times.”

“I bet he’s bleeding from a liver laceration,” Hannah said.

“Why do you think that? Why not his spleen?” he challenged.

“His spleen could be the source of his bleeding, but he was on the driver’s side and wearing his seat belt, which means most of the pressure would have been on the right side, over his liver.” Hannah kept her gaze focused on the bloody drainage coming out of the peritoneal catheter as she spoke. “If the injury had been lower, his bowel might be affected, but in that case, we’d likely see intestinal contents mixed in with the blood.”

As much as it annoyed him, he agreed with her. “Yes, we would.”

“So he might need a liver resection?” Hannah asked.

“Possibly, but that depends on the source of the bleeding. Could be a blood vessel and not the organ itself.” He glanced at the nurse. “Where’s the chest X-ray?”

“Right here, Dr. Holt.”

Jake glanced at the chest X-ray one of the nurses pulled up on the computer monitor at the bedside. He frowned and gestured to it. “And what do you see here?”

“A pneumothorax in the right lower lobe.” Hannah finally looked directly at him, her blue gaze seriously intent. “He needs a chest tube before he goes to the O.R.”

“Have you done one?”

There was the slightest hesitation. “I’ve assisted with one,” she murmured.

He was tempted to put the damn thing in himself, but this was a teaching institution and he was obligated to at least give her a chance. “I’ll talk you through it,” he said.

Hannah was already getting the supplies ready. Once the chest-tube insertion tray was open and ready to go, Hannah prepped the right side of their patient’s chest and then picked up the scalpel. She made a one-inch incision between the fourth and fifth ribs, but it was too shallow.

“You’ll need to go deeper in order to get through the cartilage,” he instructed, coming up behind her, to once again peer over her shoulder as she worked.

He hadn’t known who she was when he’d helped her intubate this very same patient, but now it seemed as if every one of his senses were on red alert. Being this close was difficult. The familiar vanilla scent of her skin tormented him.

He watched as she took a deep, bracing breath and then ran the blade through the incision again, going deeper this time. Then she used the tip of her finger to make sure the opening went all the way through. Using the trocar, she inserted the chest tube into the opening.

“Suture it in place,” he said, forcing himself to step back. Distance. He needed to keep as much distance as possible. “We don’t want that tube coming out on the trip to the O.R.”

“Will do.” The look of satisfaction on her face almost made him want to smile. Almost. “Will I get a chance to scrub in on this case with you?” she asked.

The softening he’d felt toward her quickly evaporated. This was exactly what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? This was why she’d set him up at the marina bar, Shipwrecked, and had flirted with him.

Because she’d wanted to advance her career. He could see the plan she’d formulated in her mind—get intimate with the attending and receive special treatment.

“Not this time, Dr. Stewart,” he said bluntly, even though in reality this was the best procedure for an intern to scrub in on. But too bad. He needed an assistant, but he’d get Richard to come into the O.R. with him.

The flash of surprised hurt in her gaze almost made him change his mind. But she forced a smile. “I understand.”

Did she? Because he sure as hell didn’t.

Images flashed through his mind, the way he’d taken her frantically up against the wall. And then again, when he’d gently tossed her onto his bed and she’d laughed.

Damn, but she was beautiful. So full of life. A breath of fresh air compared to the other women he’d tried to go out with since the fiasco with Allie. The moment he’d seen Hannah, the instant flare of attraction had stunned him speechless.

Discovering she’d played him for a fool was a cruel twist of fate.

“I’ll just observe, then,” she continued, as if he wasn’t in the middle of an internal war.

“Fine.” He turned to find Richard, knee deep in assisting the other intern, Andrea Barkley, with a full-blown trauma resuscitation on their second patient. He scowled. What in the hell had happened? The patient had been stable last time he’d checked. But as he watched for a few minutes, he knew that he couldn’t drag Richard away from this case. Not now.

Resigned, he turned back to Hannah. “Actually, I will need your help in the O.R. after all.”

“Really? Thank you!” she exclaimed earnestly, her eyes bright with excitement.

For a moment he railed at the unfairness of it all. She looked so enticing. So eager to learn. He tore his gaze away with an effort, and then turned his attention back to his patient. If he could get the internal bleeding under control, this guy would make it.

This should be his priority right now. Saving James Turkow’s young life. Not worrying about Hannah’s ulterior motives for sleeping with him.

One month, he thought grimly. He’d be forced to work with her for one month. Surely he could manage to keep his professional distance from her for a measly thirty days.

* * *

Hannah was proud at how well she managed to hide her internal emotional turmoil as she assisted Jake in doing the exploratory lap on their blunt-trauma patient.

Concentrating on the surgical technique he employed wasn’t easy, especially the way his sexy voice, as he gave instructions, filled her head.

Listening to him speak in a low tone reminded her of their night together. And she had to block her emotional reaction to him as she concentrated on what he was doing.

“See? Here’s the grade-four liver laceration,” Jake said, gently moving the intestines aside to show her the extent of the injury.

“Looks like the bleeding has stopped,” she murmured.

“Yes. For now. We’ll have to keep a close eye on this, though, to make sure it doesn’t start bleeding again. The liver plays a role in the body’s ability to clot.”

Hannah made a mental note to check their patient’s anticoagulation status as soon as they finished.

“Irrigate the abdominal cavity and let me know when you think we’re ready to close.”

She nodded and squirted normal saline, watching the surgical tech as she suctioned out the abdomen. When the fluid came back clear, she glanced up at Jake. “I think Mr. Turkow is ready to be closed now.”

His gaze over the top of his surgical mask met hers. “I agree. Nice job.”

His praise shouldn’t mean that much to her, but it did. She was thankful for the fact that her surgical mask covered a good part of her face so he couldn’t see how she was blushing.

Jake began closing the abdomen, explaining the different layers as he did the work. When he got to the last layer of skin, he paused and glanced at her. “Do you want to do the final closing?”

She caught her breath. She was so lucky to have this opportunity. “Yes, I would.” When he slapped the pickups into her hand, she took the instrument and then carefully picked up the needle. Of course her sutures took twice as long as he’d taken to do his, but when she’d finished, she was proud of her work.

She couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face as they left the surgical suite. She’d assisted with her very first surgery. Hopefully the first of many.

“Hannah?” When Jake called her name, she stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder. He wasn’t smiling.

“Yes?” Her stomach clenched with a sudden attack of nerves and she had to work hard to make sure none of her uncertainty showed on her face.

“Could I have a word with you?” he asked, stripping off his surgical mask and throwing it into the nearest trash can.

“Ah, sure. Of course.” Her stomach tightened as she finished washing up at the sink, her mind spinning with possibilities. What on earth did he want to talk to her about? Their night together? The way she’d sneaked out on him? Was he still holding a grudge about that?

Or was this professional? Had she done something wrong in the O.R. that he hadn’t wanted to point out in front of the rest of the team? The anesthesiologist had remained in the room, along with the scrub nurse and circulating nurse, for the entire case.

“This way,” he murmured, taking her arm and steering her toward the surgeons’ lounge. Her nervousness spiked upward several notches when he shut the door behind them for privacy.

When he just stood there, staring at her, she couldn’t take the silence. “You were brilliant in there, saving Mr. Turkow’s liver like that,” she said quickly. “Thanks for giving me the opportunity to assist. I’ll gladly close anytime you give me the chance. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from working with you.” She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to help it.

“Stop it,” he said sharply. She sucked in a breath at the flash of anger in his dark chocolate eyes. “You knew exactly who I was when we met down at the marina, so stop acting the part of the starry-eyed intern, grateful for a chance to operate.”

“What?” She could feel her cheeks flood with heated embarrassment. Dear God, how could he possibly think she’d engineered their meeting on purpose? Why on earth would she? On her first day of freedom she’d gone sailing on Lake Michigan with her roommate, Margie. Afterward, they’d headed over for a drink at a bar called Shipwrecked. She’d had no idea who Jake was when he’d approached her. The instant physical attraction sizzling between them had been something she’d heard about but never experienced firsthand.

She wished now that she’d ignored him. But she hadn’t. She’d been in a celebratory mood and had flung caution aside to go home with him.

And now they would be forced to work together.

The way he glared at her fueled her temper. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped back. “If I recall correctly, you weren’t wearing a sign that said Chief of Trauma Surgery: Chicago Care Hospital across your chest when we met. How could I possibly know who you were? Today was my very first day taking care of patients.”

“I’m sure you recognized me from the welcome reception on Friday night,” he said, refusing to give an inch. “I don’t blame you for wanting to advance your career, but, really, sleeping with me was a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

Horrified, she gaped at him. He was serious! He actually thought she’d planned the whole thing? Talk about having a healthy ego. “No, in fact, I wasn’t able to attend the welcome reception. But you know what? I’m sorry I didn’t because if I had attended the reception I would have known exactly who you were and I could have avoided this embarrassment altogether. Trust me, if I had one inkling of who you were, I would never have, you know...” She stopped her frantic babbling with an effort. Enough already!

There was no way to salvage this. Better to just move forward from here, find some way to regain a sense of professionalism.

“You really expect me to believe you didn’t know who I was?” he asked in a skeptical tone.

She lifted her chin. She hadn’t gotten this far in her career without the ability to stand up for herself. “You can believe whatever you want, Dr. Holt,” she said coolly. “It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. As far as I’m concerned, we can pretend that unfortunate situation never happened.” His eyes narrowed as if her comment stung. Hanging on to her composure wasn’t easy. “I worked really hard to earn a spot in this residency, and I will not do anything to mess that up. So are we clear on that subject? Or do we need to beat it to death some more?”

The flash of uncertainty in his gaze gave her a small sense of satisfaction. And for a moment she desperately wished things could be different. If only Jake wasn’t so darned gorgeous. And sexy. And the damn freaking chief of trauma surgery! Of all the guys to fall into bed with, she’d had to pick this one! Trust her to screw up her last night of freedom. No pun intended.

He lifted a shoulder, as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “Fine. Consider the night forgotten.”

The sudden sense of loss caught her off guard. For some reason she was thoroughly annoyed he’d given in so easily.

Of course, this was exactly what she wanted. Right? Right. She forced a tight smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She frowned and narrowed her gaze. Was that a sexual innuendo? No, of course it wasn’t. He was just being nice. Polite. Professional.

She pasted a smile on her face and turned to make her way to the lounge door. Time to put this entire incident behind her once and for all.

“Dr. Stewart?” Once again, his voice stopped her.

The formal way he addressed her was slightly reassuring. She had to stop being suspicious about every conversation. After all, they were going to be spending the entire month together. A very long month. No doubt he wanted to ask her something about their patient. “Yes?”

“I have a firm rule about never dating anyone I work with, so I truly hope you’re going to be professional about this.”

Oh, he had a rule, did he? Well, good. Being an intern was all about following rules. And why on earth did he think she wouldn’t be professional? His gall was too much. “Of course. Is there anything else? If not, I’m going to check on Mr. Turkow.”

“No, that’s all.”

His dismissive tone grated on her nerves. She headed back to the locker room, more disturbed by his parting comment than she wanted to admit. She opened her locker and retrieved her lab coat, slamming the door with more force than was necessary.

Why was she suddenly feeling as if she was the one who’d stepped out of line? As if this entire mess was her fault and her fault only? As if he hadn’t participated one little bit?

Their night together had been more his idea than hers. He’d been the one to approach her. He’d been the one to take her hand, hauling her from the bar. Granted, she hadn’t exactly fought him off, but still.

He was the one who’d suggested they go to his place! And like a fool, she’d tossed common sense aside to go with him.

Experiencing the most incredible night of passion she’d ever had in her life.

For a moment she rested her heated forehead on the cool metal locker. Their night together had affected her more than she’d realized. But she needed to get over it. She had to follow Jake’s example and strive to remain professional.

She’d worked too damn hard—served countless drinks, endured hundreds of passes, cleaned endless offices and studied for thousands of hours—to get where she was today.

As far as she was concerned, Dr. Jake Holt could pick someone else to scorch with his good looks.


CHAPTER THREE

ASSAILED by a truckload of doubt, Jake stared at the lounge door that remained closed behind Hannah, fighting the insane urge to go after her.

Had he really been wrong about her?

The horror in her eyes had been too real to be faked. And the confrontation hadn’t gone at all the way he’d thought it would. She’d stood up to him. Tossed his accusations back at him. And she hadn’t thrown herself into his arms, begging for forgiveness.

The way Allie had, once he’d discovered her true motives for going out with him.

No, Hannah had almost looked hurt. Claiming that if she’d known who he was, she wouldn’t have gone anywhere near him. And he’d sensed that much at least was the truth.

The desolate sense of loss surprised him.

He took a deep breath and shoved the wave of self-doubt aside. Did it really matter if Hannah was telling the truth? No, because that fact changed nothing. She was still an intern in the residency program and he was still the chief of trauma surgery.

He’d learned the hard way, thanks to Allie, the perils of dating someone who worked at the same hospital. Someone you were forced to see almost every day. Where everyone knew everyone else’s business.

If he’d been smart, he would have left Minneapolis a long time ago. But he’d refused to run away. He’d taken this job because it was a promotion. Not because he couldn’t take the constant churning of the rumor mill.

In the privacy of the lounge, he let down his guard and scrubbed his hands over his face. Flirting with Hannah, buying her a drink and then spending the night with her had been completely out of character. He knew a good portion of the reason he’d acted so impulsively was due to his sheer determination to make a fresh start.

A new career in a new city, and a steadfast resolve to leave his old baggage behind once and for all. Recklessly, he’d responded to the instant attraction he’d felt with Hannah. Seeing her sailing, and meeting her at the lakeshore bar, he’d never imagined she might be connected to the hospital in some way. And he’d been secretly thrilled when she’d agreed to go home with him. They’d shared an incredible night together.

His intention of putting his past behind him and moving forward had backfired in a big way. Somehow, he’d only managed to complicate his life even further, by sleeping with his intern.

With a sigh, Jake stood and stalked out of the lounge. There was no reason to dwell on the mistake he’d made with Hannah. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she’d likely remain professional. After all, she’d been the one to sneak out that morning.

And she’d also insisted they act as if their night together had never happened.

Maybe her ability to brush him aside annoyed the hell out of him, but he was determined to remain thankful she wasn’t clinging to some ridiculous romantic notion that they were meant to be together forever.

He’d gone down that path with Allie, only to discover he couldn’t have been more wrong. After swearing off women, he’d opened his heart to Allie, only to have it ripped from his chest and stomped on. He’d managed to put his life back on track, although it hadn’t been easy.

No matter how attracted he’d been to Hannah, he wasn’t about to get hurt or be made a fool of ever again.

Satisfied that he’d wrenched Hannah out of his system, he headed to the recovery area to check on Mr. Turkow. Of course, Hannah was there, poring over the patient’s lab work. Trying to ignore her was harder than he’d anticipated, seemingly aware of every breath she took as he quickly reviewed their patient’s vitals for himself.

“He looks stable,” Hannah said. “Do you want him to go to a regular surgical floor or the ICU?”

“Definitely the ICU. You’ll need to keep a close eye on him as the next few hours are critical. He could easily continue bleeding or come down with an infection.”

“Understood,” Hannah agreed. He shouldn’t have been annoyed at her level of professionalism. “Do you want me to write the admission orders?”

He nodded, knowing he’d have time to review the orders himself, later. “And make sure to call me if there are any significant changes or if you need something.”

“Of course. I’m on call tonight, so I’ll be able to check him frequently.”

He froze. What? She was the intern on call tonight?

Perfect. That was just perfect. Because he was the attending on call tonight, too.

Did he have a black cloud hanging over his head, or what?

His pager went off. Grateful for the interruption, he glanced down to read the message from Richard, who was requesting his help in the O.R. “I have to go,” he said, avoiding Hannah’s gaze. “I’ll be in the O.R. if you need anything.”

As he scrubbed in, he couldn’t help thinking about how he’d be forced to spend the entire night with Hannah. One of the first changes he’d made as the new chief of trauma was to require that the attending physicians stayed in-house 24/7. His colleagues hadn’t been thrilled with the new requirement, but he knew that having the attending physicians readily available for trauma resuscitations and for emergency surgeries would improve their patients’ outcomes. He’d been brought in to make sure Chicago Care didn’t lose its precarious level-one trauma verification, which was scheduled to be reviewed in just six weeks. This was the first step toward reaching that goal.

So he’d made the decision and had agreed to do the first week of call. In fact, he’d taken the first week and the last week in July to be on call, since it was their busiest month with trauma patients.

Drying his hands on the sterile towels the circulating nurse provided, the impact of his decision hit him squarely in the chest. Two weeks of call in July meant he’d be working with Hannah often.

Too often.

Since avoiding her would be next to impossible, he’d have lots of practice keeping their relationship professional.

With grim determination, he could only hope he’d succeed in that goal, too.

* * *

Hannah couldn’t believe how fast her day went. Overall she thought she’d done fairly well in keeping things on a cool, professional level with Jake.

Dr. Holt. She really needed to start thinking of him as Dr. Holt.

She’d given Mr. Turkow another two units of blood and his condition had stabilized nicely. She’d also given the orders for the nurses to wean Mr. Turkow from the ventilator after she’d verified that his lungs were fully inflated following his pneumothorax. When it was time to extubate him, she called Jake just to make sure she was on the right track. Jake had immediately come up to the ICU to review everything she’d done for the patient, before agreeing with her plan.

“You’ll need to be ready to make rounds with me in fifteen minutes,” he said in a curt tone.

“Rounds?” she repeated, a little confused. Generally the surgical teams made rounds first thing in the morning. Not five o’clock in the evening.

He looked her straight in the eye. “You said you’re taking first call tonight, right?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’m the attending on call tonight as well and we need to see every patient on service so you understand my expectations.”

Oka-a-a-y, now she understood. Wasn’t it just her luck that he was the attending on call? As if it wasn’t difficult enough working with him during the day? She made sure her dismay didn’t show. “Of course. Do you want to meet in the ICU first?” Logically, she thought starting with the sickest patients made the most sense.

“No, we’ll start on the general surgical floor. The ICU patients are going to take longer to review as their medical needs are more complicated, so I generally leave them for last.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. So much for her logic. She felt as if she was fighting an uphill battle to earn Jake’s respect as a physician. Refusing to let her nervousness show, Hannah pulled out her new pack of three-by-five note cards and prepared to take good notes. As a medical student she’d learned the trick of putting each patient on a card and using them as a reference throughout the night.

Although this was the first time she’d be the one responsible for making the medical decisions. Decisions that Jake would use as a basis to critique her performance. She ignored a flutter of panic.

Actually, it was good news that the attending surgeon, even if it was Jake, would be in house all night. At least she would have backup if she got in over her head. For some reason, every time she looked for Richard, the senior resident, he was busy elsewhere.

She would have felt completely alone if not for Jake.

After copying Mr. Turkow’s information on a card, she hurried out to the general trauma surgical floor to meet Jake. Dr. Holt.

She should have been glad that he treated her like any other resident in the program, but as they made rounds on the patients, talking to the nurses and reviewing their charts, she couldn’t seem to stop searching his gaze for some sign of—what? She didn’t really know. Recognition? Acknowledgement? Support? Camaraderie?

What she got was indifferent professionalism.

He was right that the ICU patients took much longer to do rounds on. When they finished, she had a thick stack of cards with key information for each patient noted on them.

“Dr. Holt, could you tell me where the trauma-surgery call rooms are located?” she asked. She’d learned during the tour earlier that morning that each service had a group of call rooms, but she’d lost track of exactly which ones were located where.

He raised a brow. “Do you honestly think you’re going to be spending much time in your call room?” he asked with a note of sarcasm.

“No,” she answered candidly. “But I’d still like to know where they are, just in case by some miracle I am able to get one or two hours of sleep tonight.”

The corner of his mouth tipped upward in a half smile and she was grateful for the tiny crack of humanity beneath the layer of cool professionalism.

She much preferred Jake the man over Dr. Holt the chief of trauma surgery.

Get used to it, she reminded herself. From here on out, she was only working with Dr. Holt, the chief of trauma surgery. Jake the man didn’t exist.

Not for her. Not anymore.

“First floor, west corridor down the hall from the trauma bays,” he said. “You can pick up a key for the call rooms from the operator.”

“Thanks.” She was starving, having only eaten a handful of crackers from the ICU kitchenette for lunch, so she quickly ran down to get her key from the operator and then headed over to the cafeteria.

Apparently Jake had the same idea, to eat now before something bad happened, because he arrived as she was waiting for her chicken sandwich and fries. She saw him come up beside her out of the corner of her eye. She tried not to breathe in too deeply the familiar, musky scent of his aftershave.

A stirring of desire flickered low in her belly. She did her best to ignore it. Cripes, she really needed to get past this insane physical response to the man.

She quickly paid for her meal and then desperately glanced around the cafeteria for someplace to sit. She saw the familiar face of one of the other interns from her group, and quickly read his name tag. Kyle Franklin. “Hey, do you mind if I eat with you?”

“No problem,” Kyle said, waving a hand at the empty seat.

She sat down gratefully. “So what service did you end up on?” she asked conversationally.

“Ob-gyn,” he muttered with a grimace. “How about you?”

“Trauma,” she answered.

“Damn, you’re lucky. Summer is the best time to be on trauma. Of course, I’m not on the trauma service until November. Boring.” He took a bite of his pizza and then groaned when his pager went off. He glanced down at it with annoyance. “Great. A woman just arrived in active labor. Sorry to cut this short but I gotta go.” He shoved the last bit of pizza into his mouth and then took off running.

Alone again, Hannah sighed and took a bite of her chicken sandwich. She tensed when a familiar scent teased her senses.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” Jake asked.

The mouthful of food lodged in her throat and she had to take a sip of her water to prevent herself choking. Was he doing this on purpose? Why on earth had he chosen to come over to sit with her? On the other hand, how did you say no to the chief of trauma? “Ah, no, I don’t mind,” she managed. She set down her water with a jerky movement that almost upended the cup. “Dr. Franklin had to leave for a delivery.”

“You need to relax,” he advised, as he plunked his tray on the table across from her.

Relax? Was he kidding?

“You were tense all through rounds,” he pointed out, after taking a healthy bite of his burger. “Since you can’t seem to relax while working with me, I’d be happy to support a request for you to transfer off Trauma.”

Transfer off Trauma? She stared at him in horror. Was that even an option? But she narrowed her gaze when she noted the flicker of hope in his eyes. Oh, sure, he’d love her to transfer off Trauma, wouldn’t he? That would be a ridiculously easy way to get rid of her. Well, fat chance. Kyle was right—summer was the best time to be on Trauma. No way was she going to admit defeat. “I’m not tense, just excited,” she said, stretching the truth just a bit. “Being on Trauma is a total thrill. I’ve done more procedures today than general-surgery interns do in a week.”

“You might change your mind after working thirty hours straight,” he said, as if surprised by her response.

Keeping the easy smile on her face wasn’t easy, considering she knew how incredible he looked naked.

Stop it! She had to stop thinking about that.

She shrugged. “It’s all part of the package, right? I pulled plenty of all-nighters during medical school, so it won’t be anything new.” He had no idea how she’d struggled to juggle two jobs along with the responsibilities of being on service as a third- and fourth-year med student. “I know the hours are long and the pay is dismal but I’m totally psyched to learn everything I can.”

“The pay won’t be dismal forever,” he murmured.

She remembered his chrome and glass condo decor and decided there was no reason to be rude. “I know. But, really, it doesn’t matter. I’ve always worked hard and at least now I’m doing something I truly enjoy.” And nothing, especially not a sexy attending physician, was going to stop her.

“Oh, yeah?” He lifted a curious gaze. “What did you used to do?”

She blanched and stared at her fries for a second. “Oh, you know, the usual low-paying jobs to get through college,” she said evasively.

“Did you grow up around here?”

Uh-oh, now he was treading on dangerous ground. She didn’t want anyone to know the details of the life she’d worked hard to leave behind. Especially not Jake. Dr. Holt. “Er...no, not really.” She’d grown up in a galaxy far, far away. Or so it seemed. Time to change the subject. “But I have to say, it’s amazing how Chicago Care is so close to the lake. I just love watching the sun rise over Lake Michigan in the mornings. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of the sight.”

For a long moment, his dark gaze pierced hers and suddenly she knew he was remembering their morning together. Had it been just two days ago? Seemed like much longer.

Another lifetime. For a nanosecond, she wished they could go back to simply being the two people attracted to each other who’d met at the bar.

“Yes, the view of the lake is spectacular,” he agreed. Was the husky note in his tone her imagination? Probably.

They were professionals. Working together. That’s all.

Her pager went off and she was grateful for the interruption. “This is the surgical ICU calling. Sorry, but I need to go.”

“Why don’t you call them first to see what they want?” he asked. “You might not need to sacrifice the rest of your meal.”

She needed to get away from him, for many reasons, but most of all her sanity. She jumped on the excuse to leave. “It’s a text page about Mr. Turkow’s blood pressure—it’s down. I need to run up and examine him.”

Jake frowned and nodded. “All right. Call me if you need me,” he said. “I’ll be by to check on him later.”

“Of course.” As if there was any other option? He was the boss, after all. She took one last bite of her chicken sandwich and then hauled her tray to the sideboard, feeling his gaze on her back as she left.

She let out a sigh of relief when she stepped into the elevator to head up to the third floor. She could do this. Work with Jake as a professional.

She had no choice but to do this.

* * *

By midnight, Hannah had lost count of the number of pages she received. Thank God for her note cards because she’d responded to some issue on almost every patient on their service and she’d never have been able to keep track of the patients without her notes.

As Jake had predicted, she didn’t even see the inside of her call room until two in the morning. She stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. One hour. She desperately needed one hour of peace and quiet.

At two forty-five, her pager went off, announcing the arrival of a new trauma patient. Overall, the night had been quiet as far as trauma calls went. But maybe the trauma activity only started to heat up in the wee hours of the morning.

The responsibility of being a doctor seemed almost overwhelming. Yet this was something she’d dreamed about for years. Ever since she’d been hospitalized with a ruptured appendix at the age of thirteen. Her surgeon, Dr. Marilee McDaniel, had been amazing. After a week in the hospital, Hannah had vowed to be just like her.

The hardships would be worth it. Hannah rolled out of bed and splashed some water on her face in a pathetic attempt to wipe away the fatigue. Forty-five minutes was almost an hour, wasn’t it?

Of course it was.

She headed down to the trauma bay, only to find Jake already there, standing at the patient’s bedside. He didn’t look nearly as tired as she felt.

“What do we have?” she asked in a low voice.

“A young man with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.” Jake glanced up at her. “Are you familiar with it?”

Ehlers-Danlos syndrome? She stared at him. Her mind went blank. Absolutely, completely blank.

“No?” The sharp disappointment in his tone hurt, more than it should have. “I suggest you do some research—it’s a rare genetic disorder.”

She glanced over at the patient, a very handsome young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was moaning and grimacing, as if he was in excruciating pain.

“Start a dilaudid pain pump and get a full-body CT scan,” Jake said to the nurse. “And I want to see the results of his CT scan, stat.”

Hannah pushed the emotionally draining exhaustion away and forced herself to focus. She had read about the disease, she knew she had. As she and Jake stepped away from the bedside, she finally pulled the knowledge from the deep recesses of her brain. “Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is classified by weak tissue, primarily blood vessels, resulting in multiple aneurysms.”

“Yes.” There was a flash of approval in Jake’s gaze. But then he turned serious again. “Unfortunately, Christopher Melbourne was first diagnosed with this disease at the age of seven.”

Seven? Good heavens, she couldn’t even imagine. “It’s a miracle he’s survived this long,” she murmured.

“Yes. Although with the abdominal pain he’s currently experiencing, I’m very much afraid he has a leaking abdominal aortic aneurysm.”

Her stomach clenched. Abdominal aortic aneurysms were known to be serious, life-threatening conditions. “Can you surgically repair it?”

“No. Too risky. All his blood vessels are weak and fragile, to the point that they would never hold a new tissue graft. As it is, he’s been walking around with a large aneurysm in his axillary artery that no surgeon has been brave enough to repair.”

They couldn’t operate? “So what can we do for him?”

Jake slowly shook his head, and she caught a surprising glimpse of true anguish in his eyes.

“Nothing. Except make him as comfortable as possible until he dies.”


CHAPTER FOUR

JAKE stared at the dismal results of Christopher’s CT scan, battling a surge of helplessness. He’d never seen an abdominal aneurysm this huge, extending from the heart all the way down to the kidneys. He was amazed Christopher was still coherent. No way could he afford to operate on this poor kid. He’d die on the O.R. table for sure.

There was nothing worse than losing a young patient.

Except maybe standing by and doing nothing while watching him die.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and sighed. No matter how much he wished otherwise, there wasn’t a single treatment option he could offer. Except comfort measures. He walked back to Christopher’s bedside where Hannah was finishing her head-to-toe assessment. “I’ve confirmed a leaking triple A,” he said in a low tone, not meant for Christopher to hear. “We need to get him transferred up to the surgical ICU.”

“Doctor...have you...called my father?” Christopher asked Hannah, his wide eyes sunken into his thin face.

Hannah leaned over and took Christopher’s frail hand firmly in hers. As they’d worked together over the past several hours, Jake had noticed she touched patients a lot. Connecting in a way that made them trust her. If she kept up the way she was going, she’d be a great surgeon. “Yes, he’s on his way.”

“Good,” Christopher whispered, before closing his eyes on another wave of pain.

Hannah brought her tortured gaze up to meet Jake’s and he slowly shook his head at her unspoken question. If he could somehow pull off a miracle, he would. But Christopher was dying. The boy’s fate was no longer in his hands.

Just as they were about to wheel him up to the ICU, his father, Allen Melbourne, rushed in, eyes wide with fear. “Chris? Are you okay?”

“Dad,” Chris whispered, reaching out for his father. “I’m glad you’re here. The pain is bad. Really bad.”

Jake saw the question in the father’s eyes and hastened to assure him. “We have him on a pain pump, with a substantial dose of the strongest narcotic we have. He should start to feel better soon. And we’re moving him to the ICU.”

“Not to surgery?” Allen asked with a frown, glancing between Jake and Hannah.

“No. I’m afraid Chris isn’t a candidate for surgery,” Jake said, as gently as he could. At this point Chris was technically a full code, but Jake had no plans to actively resuscitate him. In fact, he shouldn’t really take him to the ICU, but he wanted Chris and his father to know he’d be closely watched.

Myriad emotions played over Allen’s face until, eventually, resigned acceptance remained. Jake noticed Hannah’s eyes glistening with tears, but then she quickly pulled herself under control.

“We’re going to take very good care of your son,” she promised.

“I know,” Allen said simply. He held his son’s hand as they wheeled him down the hall toward the elevators. The simple ride to the third floor seemed excruciatingly long.





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