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

by Hughes, Jill Elaine

  “No! No!” the old woman cried, thrashing back and forth on the operating table. Then the drugs hit her veins, and she relaxed a little. But not enough.

  “I swear to Jesus, I don’t know how y’all talked me into this,” the old woman said, her words slurring from the heavy meds. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my goddamn foot.”

  “You have a severe bunion, Mrs. Jones,” Joanna said, willing herself to keep her voice calm. “And it’s abscessed. It needs to be repaired, or you might lose your ability to walk and be independent. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “I don’t give a damn,” hissed Mrs. Jones. “Just get me the hell outa here before y’all kill me dead. Goddamn it, I hate hospitals.”

  Joanna shot another look at Dana, who turned up the drugs even more. Mrs. Jones relaxed a bit more and settled back against the operating table, though she was still wide awake. Joanna really couldn’t stand patients like Mrs. Jones who complained about every little thing. Especially during an operation as minor as a bunion removal. In her long nursing career Joanna had seen patients with severed limbs or severe burns barely bat an eyelash, and yet Mrs. Jones was obviously the type who’d pass out when she got a hangnail. She was what people in the healthcare field liked to label a “problem” in the patient file.

  As if to prove the point, Mrs. Jones sat straight up and pointed at the large clock on the wall. “Does that big evil clock really need to be starin’ at me like that?”

  Joanna grabbed Mrs. Jones by the shoulders and pressed her back down onto the operating table. “Dana, go ahead and give Mrs. Jones the maximum dose of sodium pentothal,” she ordered. “And add in some Demerol and Percocet. too, if you can.”

  Dana blinked. “But Mrs. Wilkinson, the doctor isn’t here yet. I can’t change the ordered drug cocktail without his permission—“

  “Just do it,” Joanna said through clenched teeth. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

  Dana obeyed. As the mega-dose of drugs hit Mrs. Jones veins, she sighed, then smiled. After a moment or two, she began to sing the theme to Gilligan’s Island off-key.

  Dana snickered. “Well, that’s a new one,” she said. “Usually they just start talking about their grandchildren when they get the Demerol mix.”

  “Or their ex-husbands,” Joanna countered. She couldn’t help but laugh herself as Mrs. Jones switched from Gilligan’s Island to the theme from Mary Tyler Moore. Then the old woman stopped singing altogether and began muttering softly to herself.

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll be having any more problems with the patient,” Joanna remarked, though she silently wished that Mrs. Jones’ crummy Medicare HMO would have agreed to pay for general anesthesia. Some patients just didn’t need to be awake in the OR, even if they were only having a pimple popped.

  And of course, there was the little matter of Joanna and Harlan’s marital tension. It was far easier for Harlan to lash out at her—and everyone else in the OR—when the patient was out cold. Even if Mrs. Jones was drug-addled to the point of singing old TV themes, she was still awake. And drugged silly or not, no patient deserved to listen to another one of Dr. Harlan Wilkinson’s OR tirades up-close and personal. Everyone would have to be on their best behavior on this operation—Harlan included.

  Joanna sighed and bit her lip underneath her sterile mask. She wasn’t counting on Harlan being on his best behavior today. If anything, he’d be on his worst behavior. And that just complicated an already difficult situation even further.

  The OR doors swung open, and Harlan swept into the room. Following close on his heels was a nurse that Joanna didn’t recognize at first. But after carefully studying the sparkling blue eyes that floated above the woman’s paper surgical mask, Joanna deduced that it was Starla Berring.

  “Starla, what are you doing in here?” Joanna asked. “You aren’t assigned to this operation.”

  Starla’s blonde eyebrows pursed above her mask. “Um, yes I am. Maryam Malone just told me I was.”

  Joanna sighed. “Maryam doesn’t have final say on the OR schedule anymore. I do.”

  “But Maryam said—“

  Joanna sighed again. “Maryam doesn’t seem to remember that I got promoted into her old job,” she snapped. “That old busybody really needs to learn to leave well enough alone.”

  “It’s all right, Joanna,” Harlan said gruffly. “I actually told Maryam that we could use an extra pair of hands on this one.”

  Joanna stomped her foot. “What? For a bunion operation you can do in your sleep? How dare you undermine my authority like that! How dare you—“

  Dana cleared her throat loudly and pointed down at the groggy-but-still-awake Mrs. Jones. The old woman had stopped muttering to herself and was now staring straight at Harlan and Joanna.

  “Hey, can’tsh y’all justsh put me to sshhhhleeep?” the old woman slurred.

  Harlan shot Joanna a stern warning look, and she took a moment to regain her composure. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones, but Medicare won’t pay for general anesthesia on a simple bunion operation,” she said. “But your foot is completely numb. I guarantee you won’t feel a thing.”

  “Well, thennn y’allll ssshould shhhhuuuut up yer arguin’,” Mrs. Jones replied, then slumped back onto the table and resumed muttering.

  Joanna clamped her mouth shut and stewed in her own juices. Why on earth would Harlan need an extra set of hands on a routine bunion operation? It was practically the easiest surgery in the book. So easy, in fact, that bunion removals could legally be done by podiatrists, who weren’t even MDs. Something funny was going on, that was for sure.

  “Well, Joanna?” Starla chirped in her usual fake, overly-bubbly way. “What would you like me to do?”

  Joanna took a moment before responding. She didn’t want to bite the poor girl’s head off, even if she did believe Starla had no business being there in the first place. “Why don’t you just stand beside me and observe?” she finally offered. “That way if I need you to step in, you’ll be right there.”

  Starla gave a little scoff. Clearly she was put off by that remark. “Well, if you aren’t going to have me do anything, I don’t know what I’m doing here in the first place,” she snapped. “I’m out of here.” But Harlan stopped her.

  “Actually, Starla, I’d really appreciate it if you stayed,” he said. “In fact, why don’t you take over the rest of the prep work from the techs? I think they could use a break anyway. God knows Joanna works them to death. Don’t you, Joanna?”

  Joanna let out a little gasp. She couldn’t believe her ears. Her husband wasn’t just undermining her authority in the OR—now he was making her out to be a bad boss. As if he had any room to talk.

  Starla snickered under her breath and took over for the two techs, who bolted out of the OR lickety-split. Joanna just stood there and fumed.

  Once Starla finished the rest of the prep work, Harlan took his place across from Joanna and held out his hand, palm-up. “Scalpel, please,” he said, taking care to make eye contact with her. But this time, it was Joanna who looked away. She knew that if she locked eyes with her husband for more than a nanosecond, she might end up punching him in the face.

  “Scalpel please,” Harlan said again, raising his voice a little this time.

  Joanna blew out a breath of air and again struggled to contain herself. Didn’t this man ever stop? Maybe he wasn’t yelling and swearing in the OR this time around, but now he was being passive-aggressive, which was even worse. “Scalpel,” she finally growled at her husband, and placed it properly in his hand.

  “Thank you,” Harlan said through clenched teeth. He might be feigning politeness on the outside, but on the inside it was killing him. “Commencing first incision,” he said as quietly as possible. “Dana, please keep the patient as sedated as possible.”

  Dana nodded and gave Mrs. Jones some more Demerol, while Harlan began making the first incision into Mrs. Jones’ lumpy, troublesome bunion. Within less than ten minutes, the operation was comple
te.

  Harlan stood back and dusted off his hands. “Well, they don’t come much easier than that, do they?” he said. “Starla, why don’t you close for me?”

  Starla giggled and actually jumped up and down. “Really, Dr. Wilkinson? You want me to close for you?”

  “Sure, why not?” he replied, cutting a glance in Joanna’s direction, who seethed. “Joanna’s not exactly at her best today, anyway. Dana, go ahead and bring the patient back up from the meds once Starla’s done closing. I’ll just go scrub out now.”

  Dana glanced from Harlan to Joanna, and tittered. It was all Joanna could do to keep from socking her husband in the gut.

  “Joanna, I think Starla can take things from here. Why don’t you join me in the scrub room?”

  Joanna didn’t respond. She just stood rooted to the floor, her blood boiling.

  “Well, Joanna?” Harlan asked as he headed for the swinging metal doors. “Are you coming or not?”

  Oh, she was coming all right. Coming to kick his ass straight into next week.

  She shoved her way past him into the post-op room, making sure to beat him to everything he needed in there. She wasn’t going to make things easy for Harlan. Not now. Not ever.

  She tossed her soiled latex gloves in the trash, wadded up her dirty gown, bonnet and mask and tossed them in the hamper. Then she planted herself in front of both receptacles, blocking Harlan’s path. He stopped short, then pulled his own mask down around his chin. “Joanna, what gives? I need to derobe. Get out of my way.”

  “Are you sleeping with her?” she blurted.

  “Am I what?”

  “It’s a simple question, Harlan. Are. You. Sleeping. With. Her. Just answer yes or no.”

  “With who? Starla Berring?”

  Joanna rolled her eyes. “Of course, Starla Berring. Who the hell did you think I was referring to? That woman has slept with half the men in this state.”

  “Not with me, she hasn’t,” Harlan retorted, his voice clipped. “And for your information, I wouldn’t touch that chick with a forty-nine-foot pole—even if I wasn’t already married to you. God only knows where that woman’s genitals have been.”

  Joanna scoffed. “Yeah, likely story. I’m sure that’s why you dragged her into an operation where she didn’t belong and then made a point to use her to humiliate me.”

  “Joanna—“

  “Don’t you Joanna me, Harlan. I am sick and tired of this bullshit. It has to stop.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’m leaving you.”

  Harlan blinked. “You’re overreacting a bit, aren’t you?” But she wasn’t. He knew it, she knew it, everyone knew it. The Wilkinson marriage was on the rocks, no matter how you sliced it. “Look Joanna, I know things haven’t exactly been wine and roses between us lately, but maybe we should find a way to work things out.”

  “Ha. And when exactly do you propose to do that? During the ten minutes a day where we actually have some private time? Or maybe over the speakerphone when you’re working the day shift in the OR and I’m at home trying to sleep? You tell me.”

  Harlan just sighed and looked at the floor.

  Joanna was losing her patience. “Well?”

  Harlan shifted uncomfortably back and forth on his feet. Then he did something totally unexpected. He grabbed Joanna, pulled her close, and kissed her hard and deep.

  Joanna froze for a moment, then relaxed. Then she started kissing her husband back. And all at once, all the pent-up conflict and tension between them melted away. They kissed like it was the first time their lips had ever touched, and their bodies both caught fire.

  When they finally came back up for air, Harlan stroked Joanna’s cheekbone tenderly with his index finger. “We really should do that more often,” he said.

  Joanna giggled despite herself. “Yeah, we should. You know, you’re a lot nicer to be around when you’re kissing me.”

  Harlan laughed softly back. “I know. I might be a raging SOB surgeon most of the time, but even I have a softer side.”

  They stood in each others’ arms for a moment or two, basking in the glow of their rediscovered intimacy. But then all their old problems just began to resurface. One passionate kiss wasn’t going to fix everything that had gone wrong between them, no matter how much they might want it to. The Watson-Wilkinson marriage was probably doomed, and they both knew it.

  And there was someone else who seemed to know it too.

  Starla Berring.

  Starla strode into post-op, her head held high. She made a beeline for Harlan, not even seeming to notice that he was still embracing his wife. “Well, Doctor, I closed the incision and the patient is in recovery. The operation was a complete success.”

  “Good for you, Starla,” he said. “I’d shake your hand, but you’re still in your gloves.”

  “You can congratulate me when we’re all scrubbed out,” she replied, not even trying to hide the twinkle in her blue eyes.

  Harlan let go of Joanna and headed over to the scrub sink. He washed his hands right alongside Starla, chatting her up the whole time. When they were finished, he shook her hand and clapped her on the back as if they were old friends. Joanna fumed.

  Joanna hated to admit it, but she was jealous. And her feelings proved that no matter how much anger or animosity she might feel towards Harlan right now, she still loved him just as much as she had they day they’d married. Maybe even more.

  Not that she had much right to be jealous of anyone at this point where her husband was concerned. Her hold on Harlan was tenuous at best, and he was slipping through her fingers more and more with every passing day. And now that cheap whore Starla Berring was making her move on him, just like she always did whenever there was a man around who even had the slightest chance of becoming single. Starla was an opportunist who moved in for the kill whenever she smelled blood in the water. And the saddest part of all was, Joanna knew that the younger woman would have her fun with Harlan, then throw him out with the trash as soon as she got bored with him.

  That would be her first mistake. Because Dr. Harlan Wilkinson wasn’t exactly the type who liked getting tossed to the curb. He would fight back like a cornered animal.

  That is, if Joanna let things progress that far. As she stood watching her husband talk and joke with a younger, prettier woman who was making a big show of flirting with him, Joanna steeled her resolve. From that moment forward, Joanna’s sole purpose in life would be to win back her husband’s heart for good.

  And she would stop at nothing to make it happen.

  Eight

  Billy Hartzell made his daily rounds with a spring in his step. He was feeling good today. Funny what some quickie sex in the women’s locker could do for a young man’s mood—even if Starla’s odd behavior after the fact put a damper on things. Whatever confusion he might feel over the encounter, the fact remained that he was a horny young man who’d just blown a six-month load.

  There was something else that had Billy feeling good that morning, though. Another young woman had caught his eye.

  He didn’t know her name yet. He’d only seen her once, in fact. But that didn’t mean she didn’t make a strong impression on him. She sure as hell had. To the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  He’d only seen her for a minute or so as they passed in the hallway. She’d stumbled into him—literally—as he was rushing past with a dolly full of soiled bedpans. Only chance—or perhaps fate—prevented him from upsetting their nasty contents all over the beautiful young woman’s clean scrubs. Disaster avoided, Billy glimpsed the petite, dark-haired beauty for the slightest of moments, even managed to crack a joke. But even before he had a chance to enjoy her laugh, she was gone. He’d stood there, staring at the empty space that her body had occupied just moments before, his whole body tingling with a strange euphoria he’d never felt before.

  Billy had heard of love at first sight, but he’d always thought that was something that only happened in the movies
. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  He had to find more about this mystery woman. Hell, he had to find her. And fast. He’d just seen her the one time, but the more time that elapsed since that chance meeting, the more he feared he’d never see her again. What if she decided to change jobs? What if she was just a contract temp like him, destined to leave for another job in another place far away any day now? What if—

  Billy felt a sharp jab on his left shoulder. He spun around, and stared into the dingy, wrinkled eyes of Maryam Malone, head nurse administrator for the hospital. “Billy, we need a new batch of IV bags at the south end of Geriatrics, pronto. Would you mind stoppin’ your daydreaming and gettin’ a move on?”

  Billy flushed deep red. “Sorry, Miss Malone.”

  “Not a problem, hon,” Maryam said, and patted him on the shoulder. “Just try not to dawdle too much. We’re understaffed and underfunded, and you’re makin’ more money per hour than nurses that’ve been here thirty years just fer slingin’ bedpans. So I can’t well afford for you to be messin’ around on the clock. You hear?”

  “Yes ma’am, I hear,” Billy murmured, flushing even deeper. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “All right, hon,” Maryam clucked, and sent him on his way. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he could have sworn that the old woman had patted his bottom as he walked away. Billy glanced back over his shoulder at the knobby old woman before moving on, and sure enough, the woman was leering at him and licking her thin, wrinkled lips.

  Dirty old geezer, he thought to himself with a chuckle. Even a dried-up old stick like her wanted his bod. Gross. He really needed to get out of this small town.

  But he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Something had happened, something that had changed everything.

  There was only one woman in this town that Billy had eyes for now. A woman that would make him stay in this godforsaken town forever, if that’s what it took. The woman of his dreams.

  The only problem was, that woman hadn’t seemed to notice him at all. Even worse, Billy didn’t even know who she was, or where to find her.