Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy

by Hughes, Jill Elaine

  “I’m not asking that he actually perform surgery until his hand heals,” Joanna replied, keeping her voice calm. “But given what happened in the OR with Mrs. Small, I believe it is absolutely imperative that an experienced attending surgeon be present while those two green residents are doing the bulk of the work. Otherwise, you are putting Covington’s patients at unnecessary risk. Which of course increases the hospital’s potential liability.”

  Joanna knew from experience that curmudgeon hospital administrators like Middleton generally only responded to terms like “risk” and “liability”.

  Middleton chewed the end of his expensive fountain pen for a moment. “I hear what you’re saying, Joanna, I really do. But I can’t be giving anyone the idea that I don’t discipline surgeons when they screw up royally. And Wilkinson screwed up very royally.”

  “Don’t you think it’s punishment enough for any surgeon to be rendered unable to operate?” Joanna countered. “He might never be able to hold a scalpel again if too much scar tissue forms in the wound. And even if his hand heals completely, he’ll still be unable to fully operate for at least a month, maybe two.” Joanna tried hard not to sound too eager. Even if she was only doing this a ploy to melt the hardass-SOB surgeon’s heart, Joanna knew she had to come across to Middleton as making the suggestion because it was in the best interest of patients, not Harlan’s. And certainly not her own.

  “We don’t want what happened during Mrs. Small’s operation to happen again,” she went on. “Fortunately we were able to save her, but we might not be so lucky next time. You don’t want to expose your hospital to any unnecessary liability, do you?”

  Middleton chewed his expensive pen again. “Joanna, I don’t think I need to remind you that what happened during Mrs. Small’s operation, for all intents and purposes, did not happen. Officially speaking, anyway.” Joanna could tell that the seasoned old administrator was nervous. “You know our liability insurance premiums are high enough as it is.”

  “Of course, sir,” Joanna said, smiling sweetly. “It did not happen, officially speaking. But unofficially speaking, I think it would be prudent to have an attending surgeon on hand for all operations. We can never be too careful.”

  Middleton set down his fountain pen and paused to think. “Well, Joanna, I suppose you’re right. I’ll see what I can do to bring Dr. Wilkinson back right away. But he’d still technically be on suspension, and I’d only bring him back as a consultant, on half-pay.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Joanna beamed. “I’m sure the patients will appreciate knowing their surgical care is given under Dr. Wilkinson’s expert supervision. Do you think you could get him back in time for Todd Palmetto’s hernia operation? That’s scheduled in about half an hour, and it’s quite risky given Mr. Palmetto’s—ahem—large size.”

  Middleton got up from his desk and went to stare out his large picture window. “Well, I’ll have him paged, but Wilkinson left here a couple of hours ago in an absolute tizzy, and I don’t mean just about being put on suspension. Seems he’s pretty angry with you especially. Can you tell me anything about that, Joanna?”

  Joanna swallowed hard. “I’m afraid I can’t, sir. I haven’t the slightest idea why Dr. Wilkinson would be angry with me,” she lied.

  “Well, I suggest you find out why as soon as he gets here,” Joseph ordered. “I can’t afford to have the guy mad at this hospital’s best nurse, no matter how much of an arrogant SOB he might be.”

  “I will,” Joanna said, stifling a chuckle. Maybe there was hope for her and Harlan after all.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Twenty minutes later, Joanna was at the scrub trough, elbow-deep in PhisoDerm suds when Shirley Daniels burst into the room.

  “What a load of bullshit!” the nurse-anesthetist screamed. “What a load of fucking bullshit.”

  Joanna smiled to herself. She had a pretty good idea what had Shirley so upset, but she wasn’t about to give away what she knew. “What’s the matter, Shirley?”

  “Darth Vader is coming back! He’s going to supervise the Todd Palmetto operation!” Shirley rolled up her sleeves and joined Joanna at the scrub trough.

  “Well, well, well,” Joanna sang. “Looks like we’ll both get a chance to see Dr. Wilkinson in action again. I’m sure you’re as excited about it as I am.” Joanna rinsed off and started pulling on her surgical mask and overgown, and she couldn’t help but notice that Shirley was purple with rage.

  “Pshaw,” Shirley scoffed, and set herself to scrubbing. Joanna left her covered in PhisoDerm and went into the OR to start preparing the instrument trays.

  She’d won this round.

  Joanna was arranging rows of sterile scalpels on the main instrument table when Harlan came into the OR, already gowned and masked. “Greetings, Watson,” he said gruffly, not even meeting her eyes.

  “Good evening, Dr. Wilkinson. We’re all so pleased you could join us for Mr. Palmetto’s operation.” Joanna kept her gaze focused on the surgical trays.

  “Like hell you are,” Harlan seethed. “That cranky nurse-anesthetist practically drowned me in suds at the scrub trough. Among other things.”

  Joanna smiled underneath her mask. “Shirley’s just overtired, is all. She’s been pulling double and triple shifts all week. Two of the other anesthetists quit, you know.” Joanna was careful not to mention they’d both quit because of him.

  Harlan did not comment on this. “If this were any kind of hospital, you’d have an MD-level anesthesiologist running the gas during operations, not a two-bit nurse.”

  Joanna cleared her throat. “I’m sure you’re well aware that small rural hospitals can’t afford to have full-time anesthesiologists on staff, Dr. Wilkinson.”

  “I’m aware that small rural hospitals can’t afford to have a lot of things” Harlan’s ice-blue eyes bore into Joanna. Try as she might, she couldn’t look away from them.

  Joanna felt her cheeks burn as Harlan broke off his gaze. He turned his back on Joanna and went to read Todd Palmetto’s patient history.

  Joanna finished counting scalpels and turned to face him. “Harlan, about what happened the other day. I’m sorry if what I did upset you, but you have to understand that I felt you weren’t being honest with me. And if you want to talk more about what Bob was suggesting—”

  He held up his hand. “Watson, there won’t be any further discussion about what happened back in the parking lot.” Harlan’s voice was austere, businesslike. “I mean it. Case closed.” The fire that had once burned in his blue eyes at Joanna’s very presence had vanished.

  “What happened in the parking lot?” Shirley chirped. She apparently had slipped into the room unnoticed; there was no telling how much of their conversation she’d overheard.

  “Nothing,” Joanna stammered. “Dr. Wilkinson and I were having a—a political disagreement.”

  “Riiiiiight,” Shirley said. She glanced from Harlan to Joanna, then back to Harlan, and chuckled. “A political disagreement, sure. Whatever you say.”

  “Daniels, I’d appreciate it if you kept the running commentary to a minimum,” Harlan barked. Joanna gave him a warning look, but he ignored her. “It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with you as my anesthetist, since apparently everyone else has quit.”

  “I’ll quit too if you don’t watch your mouth,” Shirley shot back. Her tone was harsh, but her facial expression was sultry and flirtatious, almost as if she were a call girl playing hard-to-get.

  Harlan rolled his eyes and ignored her. The tension in the OR hung so thick you could spear it with a fork. “Where the hell’s this hernia patient, anyway?” Harlan barked. “And where are my two residents, who probably can’t even slice butter properly, let alone a person.”

  As if on cue, Dr. Brown and Dr. Grenoway appeared, already gowned and masked. Three more masked orderlies followed them, all pushing a gurney that held the largest person Joanna had ever seen. Todd Palmetto was already partially sedated. The folds of his fatty flesh spilled over the side
s of the gurney like so much Jell-O. He was more than half-asleep on pre-op meds, and his mouth hung open, dripping with two very long, iridescent cords of drool. Joanna guessed he had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. Small wonder the poor boy had a hernia.

  “Is this the patient?” Harlan said with noticeable distaste.

  “Yes, sir,” Dr. Grenoway replied, eager to impress the gruff attending surgeon. “He has a strangulated hiatal hernia which has currently wrapped itself around both the large intestine and part of the aortal artery, causing significant pain and digestive problems, not to mention significant circulatory risks. Adding to the regular potential complications, he’s—“

  “Morbidly obese,” Harlan finished. “Yes, I can see that, Grenoway. Perhaps one of you two young punks can tell me how you plan to operate on this poor guy.” He nodded towards Dr. Brown.

  “With all due respect, Doctor, I’m older than you,” Hattie Brown said.

  “It was a figure of speech,” Harlan said, softening his tone a little. “Tell me your game plan, Dr. Brown.”

  The stout middle-aged woman arranged herself at the head of Todd Palmetto’s gurney as if preparing for battle. “Well, once he’s under anesthesia, I thought we would start by making four incisions in the lower abdomen—“

  “Wrong answer,” Harlan cut her off. “You forgot to address proper anesthesia for a morbidly obese person. Isn’t that right, Daniels?”

  Shirley nodded, obviously pleased Harlan was paying her some attention.

  “Daniels, why don’t you inform old Dr. Brown here about the importance of proper anesthesia.” Harlan’s tone was patronizing, but Shirley showed no outward sign of offense.

  “Administering anesthesia to morbidly obese persons requires adjustments in dosage, as well as increased monitoring of blood pressure and blood oxygen levels,” Shirley said matter-of-factly. “I’ve already made the calculations for increasing Mr. Palmetto’s dosage by eighteen percent, and I have additional monitors in place for checking his blood oxygen levels as well.”

  “Good, Daniels. Maybe you’re competent after all.” Shirley beamed.

  Harlan turned back to the two residents. “Good surgeons always consult their anesthesiologists—or in this case, nurse-anesthetists—before making any cuts. Do you know who else good surgeons consult first?”

  Both residents shrugged.

  “The lead OR nurse. Right, Watson?”

  Joanna nodded. “I’ve already briefed the residents, Harlan. Two hours ago. It’s a pretty standard hernia, caused by the pressure and strain of extreme obesity.”

  “Watson, please do not use my first name in the OR. That is highly unprofessional. Isn’t that right, everyone?”

  Shirley clucked. Dr. Brown and Dr. Grenoway exchanged glances, but said nothing.

  Joanna felt herself flush. “Pardon me, Doctor Wilkinson,” she cooed. “Since you’re so cavalier about how you address your nurses, I wasn’t aware you were so sensitive about your own name.” A more than witty comeback, considering the circumstances. Joanna smiled to herself.

  Harlan didn’t miss a beat. “Well, if you had taken the time to read Mr. Palmetto’s MRI report more closely, Ms. Watson, you would have seen that his hernia was not caused by his obesity, but by a botched lap-band surgery. By the looks of it, he got it done on the cheap in Mexico.”

  “Mexico?” Dr. Grenoway was impressed. “How can you tell?”

  Harlan pulled an MRI film out of Todd Palmetto’s file and hooked it onto the light box. “Here,” he said, pointing to a barely visible gray line on the mottled gray image of Todd’s digestive tract. “That’s the electronic signature of the Inamedic 2000 Lap-Band, a low-tech precursor to today’s lap-band devices. The Inamedic 2000 has been illegal in the United States for almost ten years due to its high complication rate. You’re getting a nice, up-close-and-personal look at one of those complications right now. The only place you can get one of these babies put in your belly anymore is in rural Mexico. Not pretty, is it?”

  Joanna was stunned. She’d had no idea what looked like a simple hernia was really a botched weight-loss operation. Harlan had managed to one-up her once again.

  “Watson, as the senior nurse in this OR, I expect you to set a proper example for others. All others, even inexperienced residents, who are still medical doctors and therefore always outrank you.” Harlan’s tone was vicious and cutting. Girding herself with resolve, Joanna refused to give him the satisfaction of unnerving her in public.

  “My mistake, Doctor,” she said flatly. “It won’t happen again.”

  And it wouldn’t. From that moment of humiliation, Joanna decided she was through with Dr. Harlan Wilkinson, once and for all.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Joanna was crashed out on an unmade cot in the residents’ quarters after nearly sixteen straight hours of OR duty when she felt someone poke her in the shoulder.

  “Go ‘way,” she moaned, and pulled the paper-thin cot pillow over her head. “Sleeping.”

  The poking turned into violent shaking. “Mmmmpph,” Joanna growled, and burrowed herself underneath the rough cotton coverlet.

  Suddenly, Joanna found herself on the floor. Someone had overturned her cot. She rubbed her sleep-crusty eyes and looked up. Maryam Malone stood over her, arms folded and mouth set in a hard line. “Joanna, get up.”

  Joanna looked at her watch. It was eight-thirty a.m., which meant she’d only managed to get about four hours of sleep. “Please, Maryam. I’m not due back in the Surgery department until noon. Leave me alone.”

  “Joseph Middleton wants to see you in his office right away.” Maryam grabbed Joanna’s right arm and dragged her to her feet.

  Joanna stretched, trying in vain to loosen the kinks in her back and neck. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Maryam sighed. “But he sounded pretty impatient.”

  “All right. Just let me get a shower and change my scrubs.”

  “Actually, Joanna, there’s no time for that,” Maryam said. “Mr. Middleton wants to see you immediately.”

  Joanna’s jaw dropped. “But I—I’m dirty, and sweaty, and—I look like a street hag!”

  Maryam took a set of fresh scrubs out of the closet and handed them to her. “Put these on, and just put a paper scrub cap over your hair. I’ll stall Middleton long enough for you to change, but you better be in his office in five minutes, or believe me, he’ll be mad enough to spit nails.”

  Maryam left.

  As Joanna tugged on the fresh scrubs, a hundred thoughts coursed through her mind. What had she done wrong? She knew that recommending Dr. Wilkinson be pulled back from suspension had been the right decision medically. Even if he did make everyone who worked under him miserable, Harlan always put patients’ needs for the best possible care above all. No matter how irrational or obstinate an administrator Joseph Middleton was, surely he couldn’t find fault with Joanna for that. There must be something else.

  Joanna tucked her sleep-mangled hair under a paper scrub cap and set out for the hallway. Just as she was crossing the threshold of the dorm, however, a terrible possibility emerged. What exactly had Shirley Daniels overheard between Joanna and Harlan the night before? Shirley had been suspicious of Joanna’s relationship with the ill-mannered surgeon even before walking in on their heated argument. There was no telling what the younger nurse knew now. Joanna had never known the nurse-anesthetist to be malicious. But fraternizing between doctors and nurses on staff was against hospital policy. Did Shirley take Harlan’s insults and mistreatment in the OR personally enough to report his illicit romance with Joanna in revenge?

  Or worse yet, did Shirley want Harlan all to herself?

  There was only one way to find out. Joanna had always been adept at handling herself under pressure, and today wouldn’t be any different. She stood up tall and marched down the corridor to Joseph Middleton’s office.

  ****

  “Joanna, I don’t like dealing with this kind of thing on the job, so I’ll g
et right to the point. Joseph Middleton’s voice was chill and hollow. “Are you sleeping with Dr. Harlan Wilkinson?”

  Joanna felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “Excuse me?”

  Middleton’s mouth was a thin hard line. “Just answer the question.”

  “Mr. Middleton, if you don’t mind, I am not comfortable discussing my private life with you.”

  The elderly man sighed. “My apologies, Joanna. I wouldn’t normally think to ask you questions that invaded your privacy, but I received some rather disturbing calls this morning that leave me no choice.”

  Joanna sucked in a mouthful of air. “What do you mean, disturbing calls?”

  Middleton got up from his leatherbacked chair and began to pace the room. “This morning I received two calls. One from an attorney, claiming to represent your former husband, Mr. Robert Watson. That attorney claims that you are engaging in an inappropriate sexual relationship with Dr. Robert Wilkinson—who, I might remind you, is also your direct supervisor.”

  Joanna went pale as paper. “That—that’s not true,” she sputtered. Her voice came out as a squeak. She wasn’t exactly lying, either. As far as she knew, her sexual relationship with Harlan was over.

  “Well, I want to believe you, Joanna. As I’m sure you know, intimate relationships between unmarried attending physicians and subordinates are prohibited by hospital policy. I called Wilkinson in here myself this morning and asked him if there was any truth to the allegations, and he vehemently denied it. That and your own word would have been enough for me to dismiss the attorney’s claim as malicious and unfounded under normal circumstances. But shortly after I spoke to Wilkinson, I received a second, more disturbing call on the same subject—this time, from one of our own hospital staff. I’ll refrain from saying who.”

  Joanna looked down at the floor. It was as she feared—the second call had to have been from Shirley Daniels. There was no other explanation. “What did this other person say?”