Читать книгу The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart - Susan Carlisle - Страница 7

HEART SURGEON MICHELLE ROSS used her hip to nudge open the swinging door to the number four operating room in Raleigh Medical Center in North Carolina.

Her patient, Mr. Martin, waiting on her to begin repairing his artery, was the type of person that affected her most. There were almost always young children waiting at home for their parent to get better. She had to save this father. Make sure he lived to return to his family.

Dressed in sterile gown and with hands covered in latex gloves, she eyed her team and asked in a crisp voice, “Are we ready to begin?”

The quietly speaking group gathered around the middle-aged patient suddenly became mute. If a scalpel had been mishandled and fallen to the floor it would have echoed in the soundless room.

She looked at each of them and watched as every set of eyes refused to meet her gaze. What was going on? Normally her team was ready to proceed without hesitation. She asked the same question before each operation out of habit.

Glitches weren’t allowed in her OR. Efficiency was her motto. Her patients deserved the best and she saw that they got it. She’d hand-picked her team and they knew what was expected, she trusted them, so what was the issue?

Her team’s unwillingness to answer didn’t alleviate her anxiety over a case that would require her complete attention. She stepped to her place beside the table before her gaze landed on the anesthesiologist resident at the head of the patient. “Where’s Schwartzie?” she demanded.

The younger doctor’s eyes flickered a couple of times above the top edge of his surgical mask and he said, “Dr. Schwartz’s replacement isn’t here yet.”

Annoyance blistered in her. Her patient deserved better. She opened her mouth to respond but someone entering the door stopped her. A man with wide shoulders had his back to her. He made an agile pivot and faced the group. A bright orange zebra-striped surgical cap screamed for attention in her sterile and ordered world. The basic blue surgical uniform of the hospital covered his body but what caught her attention again were the glowing lime-colored clogs that shone through the surgical paper booties on his feet.

Who was this clown? All that was missing was the red nose. As he approached the group her focus centered on his striking jade-colored eyes above his mask. Those orbs met hers expectantly, held her gaze before the twinkle in them put her off guard.

Surely this wasn’t her missing anesthesiologist?

“Hey, I’m Ty Smith. I’m filling in for Schwartz.” Despite the mask covering his mouth, she could tell he was smiling as he made eye contact with each person.

“We have a patient waiting,” she said, halting any further pleasantries.

“You must be Dr. Ross,” he stated in a cheerful tone.

“I am. And I’m ready to begin.”

He pulled the stool forward with his foot and sat with one easy movement. He didn’t seem to give her a further thought or show any concern that they had all been waiting for him.

Looking at the resident, he said, “Nicely done.”

The young man who had been so flustered by her question earlier visibly relaxed.

Dr. Smith checked the anesthesia set-up and looked at her. “Ready when you are, Doc.”

Once again his eyes caught her off guard. They reminded her of a spring lawn after a rain they were so green. She couldn’t let him divert her attention from the patient. She never forgot her duty. “It’s Dr. Ross,” she corrected.

“Patient is ready, Dr. Ross.” He said her name with a subtle twist that implied he might be making fun of her.

Hours later, as she began making the final sutures, Michelle was pleased the procedure had gone without a glitch. Her patient would live a long time and get to see his children grow up. Of that she was particularly proud.

Her father had died of a heart attack when she’d been twelve. They’d been out shopping for new school clothes, something she and her mother hadn’t been able to agree on, when he’d clutched his chest and fallen to the floor of the mall. She could still hear the yells to call 911 and the running of feet, but mostly it was the sound of her own crying that she remembered.

At the funeral, as she’d sat beside her mother in the front pew of the church, she’d vowed that she’d help ensure that as many children as possible never experienced what she had. Her answer had been to study and work hard to become a heart surgeon. Her personal experience had taught her there was no room for humor here. This was serious business.

Michelle was in the process of closing when a soft hum, which began at the head of the table, distracted her. During the operation she hadn’t looked at the new guy. Instead, she had given Mr. Martin her complete attention, even when her surgical resident had been making the opening incision. She glanced toward the head of the table to find Dr. Smith busily studying a monitor. The others around the table shifted restlessly. As far as she was concerned, the OR was no place for music. She wanted nothing to distract their concentration. She’d always seen to it that any noise remained at a minimum.

Tension as thick as the polar icecap and just as cold filled the space. She didn’t miss the covert glances directed her way or towards the humming man.

The new guy looked up, his gaze meeting hers. The lines around his eyes crinkled. “You can join in if you wish.”

The man was too disrupting to her OR. He had to go. She’d see that he wasn’t assigned to her cases again. “How’s the BP?” she asked in a crisp voice.

“Holding steady,” he responded.

“Then let’s finish this up and get him to CICU. And no more humming.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He sounded like a mischievous fourth-grade boy who’d just gotten into trouble for pulling a girl’s hair. Not very sincere and determined to do it again.

Ty rubbed the back of his neck to ease his strained muscles as he stepped out of the OR. Having traveled most of the night to arrive on time, he was tired. The car accident he’d assisted with at the city limits hadn’t made the situation any better. He didn’t like being late but it couldn’t be helped. He’d been the first one on the scene and it had been necessary to stay. He took his oath as a doctor seriously.

Moving from one place to another didn’t bother him. Heck, he’d done it all his life. That had been one of the problems. His parents had been follow-the-band, sixties wannabe hippies who’d had no business having children but they had. Joey, his younger brother by six years, had needed to stay in one place and have stable medical care but that hadn’t been for his parents. They had sought help from this guru here, a herb there or “If we only lived in the desert climate” Joey could breathe better—get better. They had been wrong. Dead wrong.

His parents had said it was just how it was supposed to be. For him, Joey being alive and pestering him about wanting to follow him somewhere was how it should have been. Sitting on the ground in the middle of the moaning and groaning and incense-smoke rising, Ty had decided that he couldn’t live like that any more.

He hadn’t been able to accept that his parents had refused to take Joey to a traditional doctor. That he’d not done so himself. He’d let Joey die. That had been when he’d made the decision to leave the community and go and live with his grandparents.

He was intelligent enough and with excellent grades he’d decided to attended med school. Maybe by helping others he could make amends for what had happened to his brother. Just out of med school he’d been offered a job by a friend who had been starting up a company supplying fill-in doctors to hospitals. He’d taken it. As a supply doctor he’d gone wherever he’d been needed, normally only staying a few weeks in each place. He was familiar with that type of lifestyle. But right now all he wanted was to find the apartment he’d been promised and fall into bed.

“Dr….”

“Ty Smith.” He offered his hand to the woman surgeon he’d shared the OR with.

She was a looker. Shiny brown hair, rosebud lips, and creamy skin. Too bad she had such an abrasive personality. She was a stuffed shirt if he’d ever met one. He’d met a number of them over the years, but this one took the prize. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I go by Ty. What may I call you?”

“Dr. Ross.”

Brr … a cold wind. Even the color of her eyes fit her attitude. Normally he was a sucker for a woman with clear blue pools for eyes, but not this time. He’d worked with others who hadn’t been completely comfortable with his less than “buttoned-up” ways but she was the iciest to date. No warm welcome here.

“May I speak to you a moment? Privately,” she said, in one of the primmest tones he’d ever heard.

“Certainly.” He stepped towards a quiet corner and she followed.

Finding his best professional voice, he said, “Well … Dr. Ross, it is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”

“That isn’t going to happen again. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I expect my anesthesiologist to be punctual.”

What had happened to put such a chip on this woman’s shoulder?

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I wasn’t intentionally late. And the resident was more than capable of putting the patient under. Our patient was in no danger. So, no harm. No foul. See you around, Dr. Ross.” He wanted her to understand that just because he was new to the hospital it didn’t mean he couldn’t stand his ground.

She sputtered in her effort to respond.

Ty didn’t wait to hear what she came up with. He turned and headed towards the locker room to change his clothes.

Two hours later, Ty sat behind the nurses’ station in the CICU. He’d not managed to get away as soon as he’d hoped. Busy making notes on the latest patient’s chart, he looked up to see Dr. Ross enter, along with a woman and a couple of teenagers. Dr. Ross led the way to Mr. Martin’s bed.

The nurse sitting to his left muttered to the clerk on her right, “Well, I see the ice queen has arrived.”

So he wasn’t special. She was cool to everyone.

“Yeah, but the woman sure can dress,” the clerk responded. “Too bad she isn’t as nice as her clothes.”

These women were jealous.

He couldn’t blame them. Dr. Ross was a stately woman with regal bearing. Dressed in a form-fitting pale pink suit jacket and skirt that left no curve untouched, she was eye-catching. He sat up taller in the chair. From his vantage point he could see her from head to toe. He perused her trim calves, following their well-defined length until he stopped at heels that perfectly matched her suit. He’d bet his motorcycle that they were designer, hand-made shoes.

His gaze returned to her dark sable-colored hair. It was pulled back and held by a large silver clasp, which added to the woman-in-control look. She had certainly been hiding some fetching bends and turns under that surgical garb. Too bad that if you touched her with a wet finger it might stick because she was so cold.

She spoke with gracefully arcing hands, pointing and gesturing to pumps and machinery encircling the patient’s bed. She must be explaining what they were and how they worked. To his surprise, occasionally she gave the small group a reassuring smile. So there was some warmth under that freezing exterior. She just didn’t choose to share it with him.

She glanced toward the desk and for a second her gaze met his. Did he see anxiety in those eyes?

No, that would be the last emotion he’d attribute to Dr. Ross. Self-confidence oozed from her.

Sliding back the chair, Ty continued to watch the family as they hovered around the patient. Dr. Ross no longer stood in the center of the group. She now blended into the background as she answered an occasional question. Standing, Ty came around the desk, planning to leave the unit. When she looked in his direction again he changed his angle and walked towards the group. Stopping beside her, he asked in hushed tones, “Is there a problem?”

She stiffened. “No. Why would you ask that?” she hissed.

Her eyes were on the family members, as if she was making sure they didn’t overhear their conversation.

“Good. From my end he looks good. I don’t see any reason the tube can’t be pulled out tomorrow morning if he continues on this path.”

“I appreciate—”

Her remark was interrupted by the woman he assumed was their patient’s wife. She looked at him and then back at Dr. Ross.

The sound of Dr. Ross clearing her throat and the almost imperceptible hesitation didn’t get past him but only because he was standing so close to her. She’d had no intention of introducing him but now if she didn’t she would appear impolite.

Ty smiled at the woman and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Ty Smith, I’m the anesthesiologist who worked with Dr. Ross on Mr. Martin’s case.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of my husband. Our family, my son and daughter …” the woman nodded toward the teens “… are grateful for everything you’ve done.”

“I assure you your husband received the best of care. Dr. Ross is an excellent surgeon.” He glanced at Dr. Ross. A flicker of skepticism entered her eyes. She must be wondering what he was up to. He’d meant what he’d said about her skills. Her abilities exceeded many he’d shared an OR with but praise appeared to make her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry that this could only be a short visit,” Dr. Ross said to the woman. “After shift change you may stay longer. Why don’t you have dinner and then come back to visit?”

“We will. Come on, kids. Thanks, Dr. Ross. Dr. Smith, nice to meet you.”

He nodded as the family passed him on their way to the door.

Dr. Ross moved to where the nurse stood and began discussing the patient.

Ty silently stepped away. Based on the conversation he and Dr. Ross had had after the surgery, she probably hadn’t appreciated him coming over to meet the family. There had been a couple of seconds there when he’d seen past her cold exterior to some emotion he couldn’t give a name to.

Minutes after leaving the CICU Michelle knocked on the chief of surgery’s office door.

“Enter,” she heard from the other side of the door.

She didn’t always agree with Dr. Marshall’s decisions or directives but she did think he was fair. He had been a mentor of sorts to her and more than once had gone to bat for her when there had been a problem between her and Administration. For the most part, though, he left her alone to do her job. He was old school but supportive. When he’d gone through medical school it had been almost entirely a man’s profession so a female heart surgeon had made him feel a little uneasy.

She opened the door, stepped in and closed it behind her. The balding doctor leaned back in his chair, interest written on his face.

“To what do I owe this visit? I don’t think you’ve been in my office for some time.”

“Bob, you know I don’t complain much.”

He nodded, his eyes intently watching her.

“But I can’t allow the new supply anesthesiologist to work in my OR again.”

Dr. Marshall propped his arms on his desk, concern on his face. “Is the patient okay?”

“The patient is fine. Doing very well really.”

He relaxed. “Then what’s the problem? Smith, I think his name is, came highly recommended. Good CV. Excellent, actually.”

“I cannot have the man showing up late for procedures.”

Bob looked at her incredulously. “Why did he show up late?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Did you ask him?”

“No. I didn’t. I just need the people on my team to be on time.”

“If that is the only fault you can find I think you should ask him why. I know you run a tight ship but we are all late sometimes.”

“I’m not.”

Bob released an exaggerated huff. “I know you’re not. It might be good if you were occasionally.” He said the last few words so quietly that she almost missed them. “Michelle, I think you’re overreacting a bit. We’re short an anesthesiologist and I can’t shift everyone around just to suit you. Smith is more than qualified in cardiothoracic surgery. Unless he has or is doing something to harm a patient, you’re just going to have to find a way to work with him.”

“But—”

“Michelle, I know you’re a driven physician. I can appreciate that but I think you can work this out without involving me. Smith is only here for six weeks. Surely you can handle working with him that long.”

His desk phone rang and his hand hovered over the receiver. “Let me know if there’s an issue involving a patient.” He picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

She’d been dismissed. Opening the door, Michelle stepped out into the hall and closed it behind her.

With no support, she was left no choice but to get along with the new guy. How was she going to manage that? Everything about him rubbed her the wrong way.

Ty stepped out into the warm, damp May evening, glad to head home or at least to the place he’d call home for the next few weeks. He’d never known a real brick-and-mortar house until he’d been sixteen and had left his mother and father to go and live with his grandparents.

He shoved a hand through his hair and rolled his neck one way and then the other to get the kinks out. It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated but he’d finished introducing himself to the next day’s OR patients before he’d left the hospital.

Hooking his black leather bomber jacket on his index finger, he slung it over his shoulder and started in the direction of his motorcycle. A woman dressed in what he could see was a trim-fitting skirt was walking some distance ahead.

In the dim light he couldn’t make out the color of her hair or clothes but as a red-blooded man he couldn’t help but notice the provocative sway of her hips as she walked in and out of the shadows. She moved as if she was a model strutting on a runway in Paris. It was a sexy stride if he’d ever seen one. He wouldn’t mind making the woman’s acquaintance while he was here. Maybe she worked in one of the business departments in the hospital. He’d have to make a few inquiries in the morning.

With a feeling of disappointment he watched her step between two parked cars, leaving only her head visible. A minute later Ty approached the back of what must be her car. She glanced at him. The male anticipation he’d developed and fostered while watching her walk suddenly received an icy shower.

“Dr. Ross!” He couldn’t have contained his astonishment if he’d tried. That amazingly hot strut belonged to the ice queen.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. The key fob she held fell to the ground.

“Dr. Smith. Are you looking for me?” Her voice sounded a little high.

He’d certainly been looking at her, admiring her even.

She kneeled gracefully to retrieve her keys. “Is something wrong with our patient?”

“As far as I know, the patient is fine.”

“Then why are you here?”

“This is a public parking lot. My bike is just over there.” He pointed past her.

She glanced over her shoulder in the direction he indicated. “You ride a motorcycle?” Her voice was both shocked and accusatory. “They’re so dangerous.”

“Ever been on one?”

“No!”

“Try it. You might like it.”

He looked down at her trim ankles balanced on spiky high heels. “Of course, that outfit might draw attention if you did. You’d show so much thigh that you might be stopped for being a traffic hazard.” He chuckled.

His grin grew when her head dipped in what could only be described as embarrassment. Unless he was mistaken, her cheeks were the same rosy pink he remembered her shoes as being. Something about her reaction made him believe that she wasn’t used to receiving compliments from men. That barbed-wire attitude of hers probably kept her from getting many. She was certainly attractive enough to receive them.

“I have no interest in being a traffic hazard.” She opened the door of the car, slid in and slammed the door between them.

She might not want to be one but the woman certainly had everything required.

Ty moved on through the lot. It was necessary for her to pass him to leave. As she drove by her gaze found his and held for a second of awareness before she sped up and was gone.

Yes, the next few weeks would unquestionably be interesting.

Michelle pulled into the drive of her mother’s simple redbrick suburban home. It was located in a neighborhood where all the houses along the street looked similar. The curtains of the living-room window fluttered and her mother’s face appeared. Getting out of the car, Michelle opened the back passenger door and removed two plastic bags of groceries.

She headed for the front door. Seconds before she reached it the door opened. “Mom, you didn’t need to get up. I could have let myself in.”

Her tall but frail-looking mother, with a dusting of gray in her hair, smiled. “I know, dear, but you have your hands full.”

“And the doctor said to take it easy for a while.”

“I have been. You worry too much. What do doctors know anyway?” Her smile grew.

Michelle returned her grin. It was a running joke between them. Her mother was very proud of Michelle and told her so often. As the only parent Michelle had left, she worried about her mother, unable to stand the thought of losing her in both body and spirit. Then she would be alone in the world.

“Mom, why don’t you come and sit in the kitchen while I put these groceries away and see about getting us some supper?”

“I’d like that. You can tell me about your day. You work too hard, you know. Doing surgery all day and then coming here to see about me.”

That was also a continuing argument between them. One that neither one of them seemed to ever win.

Her mother followed Michelle along the familiar hallway to the small but cozy kitchen. This was Michelle’s favorite room in the house. It was where she remembered her father best. Even years after his death she and her mother still didn’t sit in what was considered “his chair”.

As Michelle prepared the simple meal, her mother chatted about the book she was reading and the neighborhood children who had stopped by to sell her cookies. Michelle felt bad that her mother had to spend so much time alone. She’d been such an active woman until the cancer had been discovered. Her recovery was coming along well but Michelle worried that her mother had lost hope. Worse, Michelle feared she might have. She fixed hearts. Cancer wasn’t her department. She had no control here and she was having a difficult time dealing with that fact.

With all those years of medical school and all her surgical skills, she was no more capable of saving her mother than the guy down at the gas station. Cancer had a way of leveling the playing field. No one was more likely to live than another. The only thing anyone really shared was hope. That knowledge not only made her angry but it made her feel desperate.

Michelle placed a plate in front of her mother and another at her own lifelong place. Filling their glasses with iced tea, she set them on the table and took her chair.

“So, how was your day? Anything special happen?” her mother asked, as she poked at the roast chicken in front of her.

Suddenly the broad-shouldered, unorthodox anesthesiologist with the dark unruly hair flashed into her mind. Of all the people to be the highlight of her day.

“No, nothing special. My surgery cases went well, which always makes it a good day.”

“You know you really should go out some.”

Michelle let out an exasperated breath. She changed lives through surgery for the better almost daily and some days saved a life that would soon be lost. Despite that, her mother was still only interested in her dating. No matter how old or successful she became, her mother wanted her to find someone special.

Michelle wasn’t against the idea. The right person just hadn’t come along. She had to admit that it would be nice to have a man in her life. A serious man who could understand her. It would be wonderful to have a marriage like her mom and dad’s had been.

“Michelle, you have no fun in your life. You worked too hard. When you’re not at the hospital you spend your evenings here, visiting me. You need to live a little.”

This had become an almost daily conversation. “Mom, I love spending time with you.”

“Aren’t there any young men working at that hospital you might like?”

The aggravating anesthesiologist’s twinkling eyes popped into her mind. “None that I’d ever be interested in.”

Ty opened the door to the nondescript furnished apartment. His surroundings didn’t bother him. After years of living in other spaces like it, he was more than used to this type of place. At least there would be a roof over his head, which was more than he could say about his childhood.

Pushing the large brown box with his name on it inside with his foot, he closed the door behind him. A cardboard box had become his suitcase of choice. His guitar should be delivered tomorrow. He’d arranged to have it shipped to the hospital so that someone would be around to sign for it and put it in a safe place. Sometimes he traveled with it on the bike but he didn’t like to. It was one of the few things he’d taken with him when he’d left his parents.

He dropped his helmet on the chair closest to the door and headed for the kitchen. He placed the sack holding the package of gourmet coffee on the counter then looked for the coffeemaker. Great. The machine was a good one. It had been his only request.

Doctors to Go, the service he worked for and was a fifty percent owner of, had seen that he had one. Ty had been working for the company a year when his friend had offered Ty part of the business. Owning nothing but a motorcycle and the clothes on his back, he’d saved his paychecks. There had also been the small amount he’d inherited when his grandfather had died, so he’d had the funds to invest.

His partner ran the show and Ty stayed in the background as a very silent partner. No boardrooms or conference calls for him. One of the ideals that his grandfather had drummed into him early after he moved in with his grandparents had been to plan for the future. Something his parents would have never considered. He’d done as his grandfather had suggested, but he loved working with people so he still continued to practice medicine.

He didn’t generally frequent grocery stores when he moved to a new city. Instead, he chose to take most of his meals at the hospital. Otherwise he asked around about local mom-and-pop places that served good down-home cooking. Ty had already been given a few names of places from a couple of the surgery team members. He’d try one of the restaurants on his day off.

Ty prepared and set the coffeemaker to start percolating at five a.m., before he headed for the shower. Stripping off and turning the water on, he stepped under the shower head. Not all the places he’d stayed had had great showers but having one available was more than he’d had growing up. Rain barrels and creeks just didn’t compare to a hot spray with excellent water pressure.

A muffled ring came from the clothes he’d dropped on the floor. He pushed the shower curtain back, picked up his discarded jeans and dug into the pocket for his phone. His partner had texted earlier that he would be calling about an issue with the business.

“Smith here. Let me call you right back. I’m in the shower.”

“Uh, Dr. Smith. It’s Dr. Ross,” came a soft, stilted voice.

“Who?”

“Dr. Ross.” Emphasis and impatience surrounded the enunciation of the name.

“Oh, Michelle. I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously.”

He could just see her nose turning up as she said the word. The woman was far too stuffy. “How can I help you, Michelle?” He did like the sound of her name. It suited her.

“Our case has been moved up to first thing in the morning.”

He held the phone with two fingers to keep water from running over it. “I thought that the anesthesia department clerk made these calls.”

“Normally she does, but I was called and couldn’t get her, so I’m calling.”

If nothing else, she was thorough. He couldn’t fault that. It no doubt made her a good doctor. “How did you get my number?”

“I make it a point to have the numbers of everyone on my team.”

“I see.” He let the words drag out for emphasis. “You have it for no other reason?”

“No. There is no other. I’ll see you at seven sharp.”

He chuckled at her haughty tone. It sounded as if she were saying the words through a clenched jaw. He couldn’t help taunting her. She seemed like the kind of person who always rose to the bait. If only he could see her face.

“I’ll be there. Now, if you don’t mind I’ll finish my shower.”

“Oh. Uh … sure. Bye.”

So the frosty woman could be rattled. Stepping back into the shower, he thought he might have to do that more often. But what had him giving the stiff, buttoned-up woman even a second thought? She certainly wasn’t his type. Everything about her screamed of stability.

He’d been accused on more than one occasion of being the love-them-and-leave-them type. No woman got promises or commitments from him. That way he didn’t hurt them. Others could plant roots but they weren’t for him.

There had been a couple of women he’d dated who had made noises about him settling down. When that had happened it hadn’t taken him long until he’d been on his way to the next hospital in the next town. He wasn’t the type of person someone should depend on. When the going got tough he’d only let them down.

He liked women who enjoyed life, laughed, had fun and that was all they were interested in from the relationship. Michelle seemed far too serious about everything. She didn’t strike him as a short but enjoyable affair type of woman, even if he had been interested in having one with her. Which he wasn’t.

Enough about her. He needed some rest, especially if he was going to have to face her early in the morning and be on his best behavior. Which he wasn’t sure he could do.

He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Snatching a towel off the rack, he dried off. Thank goodness he’d requested maid service to start yesterday. Minutes later, naked, he slipped between cool sheets.

Dr. Ross’s strut across the parking lot came to mind. His weeks in Raleigh might be far more fascinating than he’d anticipated.