Читать книгу Dating Dr Delicious - Laura Iding - Страница 10

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.”