Dating Dr. Delicious

by Laura Iding

  “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 torm
ented 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 th
e 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.