by Laura Iding
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 ca
ll, 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.
Keepi
ng 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.
