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“In a month we probably get ten to twelve level threes,” Mitch said. “Those are usually head trauma from MVA—motor vehicle accidents. Or GSW—gunshot wounds.”
“How many children?” she asked the pediatric specialist.
Cal Westen was no less super-hot than his partner, but his coloring was different. Dark blond hair and blue eyes made him look more relaxed, but his skill and rapport with kids was well-known.
“We probably get twenty-five kids a day,” he said, sliding his stethoscope over the back of his neck, letting the ear tips and circular chest piece dangle. “Fever is the most common complaint followed closely by wheezing—a level-one nebulizer.”
Hope jotted down a few things in a small notebook. “I’m guessing that those kinds of issues are seasonal?”
Cal nodded. “Spring and fall pick up because of allergies. And we get a surge when kids go back to school. In large groups the germs spread faster. They get colds and flu. Wheezing is a secondary complication.”
“As far as staffing we need to take that into consideration.” She’d been an E.R. nurse, but every hospital had its way of doing things. It was her job to observe Mercy Medical’s procedures and improve on them with the new campus. If possible. “What’s the work flow like? What happens when patients hit the door? Where do they go?”
“Sometimes we sit around and twiddle our thumbs. Sometimes it’s saturated.” Mitch rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “We assess everyone right away. If we’re really busy, the least severe cases see a nurse. Next would be E.R. doc. Me. The level threes are evaluated by the trauma surgeon.”
“That would be Jake.” When both doctors looked at her she said, “We’ve met.”
Especially their lips and bodies from chest to thigh had met. The memory made her hot all over even though she’d enthusiastically agreed with his suggestion, just yesterday, that they forget all about that meeting.
“I understand Jake was with you the other night when he was appointed to chief trauma surgeon.” There was a gleam in Cal’s blue eyes.
“I did see him. Right after Congressman Havens made the public announcement.”
She remembered Jake’s gruff, curt responses when he’d answered his cell that night. Probably Cal had been on the other end of the call. He’d be curious because the appointment would impact their practice. Did he also know that he’d interrupted an intensely personal moment? If he didn’t, she certainly wasn’t going to confirm. All business. She and Jake had agreed.
“So,” she said, looking from one hot doc to the other. “You both put in a lot of hours here in the hospital?”
“Yeah.” Cal checked the pager at the waist of his scrubs. “We’re in the process of looking for another pediatric specialist and E.R. intensivist for the practice. Both of us are married and want to spend as much time as possible with our families.”
“You have children?” she asked.
“I have a little girl,” Cal said, a proud smile curving his mouth. “Almost two.”
“And I have a son.” Mitch’s smile was pleased. “Going on a year.”
So hospital gossip was right. Two of the trauma docs were no longer single. All evidence pointed to the fact that they couldn’t be happier about losing their playboy position to Jake.
“Is it hard,” she said, “seeing sick children when you have little ones of your own?”
“It was hard even before I became a father,” Mitch answered. “I went through a cynical phase and had to work through some issues. A lot of patients come in for things that could easily have been avoided. I had little tolerance for that. It was my wife who helped me mellow.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Cal said. “Jake and I are incredibly grateful to Sam for this kinder, gentler Mitch.”
“Bite me,” his partner said.
“Seriously,” Cal continued. “I don’t see my daughter in every child I treat. But I do understand now how parents feel and try to be more sensitive to that.”
“I see.” Hope saw a nurse in the E.R.’s doorway signaling to the doctors. “One last question. Stryker gurney or Hill-Rom? Hospital administration has a contract with the latter. We get a rebate after a certain number ordered. But I like Stryker.”
Mitch thought for a moment. “Hill Rom is fine.”
“The goal is to see patients as quickly as possible,” Cal interjected. “But when it’s nuts in the E.R. people have to wait and the Hill-Rom beds are more comfortable. We’re so ready for the new campus to open and take a little of the heat off us.”
“I bet.”
Mitch nodded. “In fact administration is training a sales nurse to channel people in your direction when the hospital’s up and running.”
“Really?” She hadn’t heard about that yet and wasn’t sure how she felt. Sales and patient care seemed mutually exclusive—or should be.
“Yeah—”
There were footsteps behind her and she saw recognition in both doctor’s expressions.
“Hi, partner,” Mitch said.
“Hi.” Jake was looking at her.
Hope noticed the green scrubs and knew he’d come from the OR. She’d heard he was working on a young boy. The dashing hero. At the moment he didn’t look dashing, just dog-tired and she asked, “How are you?”
“Bushed,” he confirmed.
“How’s the kid?” Cal asked, worry sliding into his eyes.
Jake looked at his partner, then met her gaze. “Daredevil boy plus flashy bike equals belly trauma. He won’t be taking jumps off the curb at warp speed again anytime soon. But he’ll be fine. I just gave the good news to his parents.”
“Glad to hear it,” Cal said. “Speaking of parents … I have to go.”
“Me, too,” Mitch agreed.
“Thanks for your time.” Hope wanted to beg them to stay and not leave her alone with Jake, but she knew they were busy. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.”
“Happy to help.” Cal disappeared through the double doors.
“Good luck with the new E.R.,” Mitch said, then followed his colleague to where the trauma bays held patients waiting for treatment.
She was about to excuse herself when Jake unexpectedly said, “I need caffeine. Stat.”
“Rough day?” The words just popped out.
He nodded and even that small movement seemed an effort. Normally he looked magazine-ad perfect, every hair in place. Not so much right now. Gray eyes were dull with fatigue and his cocky, confident attitude was missing in action.
“Want to join me?”
She found him dangerously endearing, which seemed an oxymoron, but definitely dangerous because she was unable to tell him no.
“Are you buying?”
He grinned. “I think I can handle a cup of coffee.”
She walked with him through the hospital lobby and its high dome that allowed lots of sunlight. They passed the information desk staffed with volunteers, then out-patient admitting and down a hall. Jake opened the door to the doctor’s dining room and let her precede him inside where she saw a scattering of tables covered with white cloths.
He took two mugs from a side table, then stuck each in turn beneath the spigot of a large silver coffee urn. After snagging a dessert plate, he filled it with several chocolate chip cookies and a couple of blueberry muffins. Then he sat at a table by a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out on the front parking lot and Mercy Medical Center Parkway. He leaned back and let out a long sigh.
Hope took the chair to his right. “Your partners were filling me in on what to expect when the new hospital opens.”
“Patient load is just a guess. Mercy West will be slow at first, just because it’s new. Although I understand people are coming in asking if it’s open because the outside looks ready. But the type of trauma will be different just because of the location in the southwest valley.”
“Oh?”
“Not as many MVAs or shootings.”
“I see.” She remembered something Mitch said. “Have you heard there’s going to be a sales nurse to channel patients to the new hospital?”
“It was my idea.” He blew on the wide opening of his steaming mug.
“Why?” she asked, surprised.
“It’s human nature to resist change.”
Not a news flash. She was a prime example. Her husband died and she’d had no choice but to accept the sudden traumatic differences of having the man she loved ripped away from her. Somehow she’d managed to move on with her life. Now she had a choice and alone was how she planned to stay. That would exclude the possibility of any unexpected and painful changes in her future. Pain was a warning system and she got the message. Alone equaled safe.
So that begged the question—why in the world was she sitting here with the guy whose kiss had reminded her how much she missed being with a man? But they’d agreed that their relationship would be professional only. Back to business.
“Mitch mentioned that there’s a real need to take some of the patient load to the new hospital. But a sales nurse?” she asked.
“Patients and family members used to coming here aren’t going to want to go somewhere else.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Like I said, people resist change. But the load here is becoming overwhelming.” Amusement chased some of the fatigue from his face. “Not long ago a former patient was here complaining about the bill he’d received from the hospital regarding his bed.”
“Why?”
“He was billed for an ICU bed. Then he was downgraded to IMC—intermediate medical care. And then lowered to floor status.”
“What was his problem?”
“He never left the E.R.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “It was explained to him that he still received the same care he would have in the unit, but there wasn’t a bed available upstairs for him.”
Hope couldn’t help smiling, too. “I know it’s not funny. That poor man.”
“When Mercy Medical West opens, someone in those circumstances here will be offered a bed there. A sales nurse will sweeten the deal with a promise of hot meals, privacy and a computer in every room. All the comforts available.”
“I see your point. Maybe it’s the ‘sales’ part that bothers me. Couldn’t they call the job Patient Placement coordinator?”
“PPC? Perfectly politically correct?”
“Why not?” she demanded, laughing in spite of herself.
“No reason I know of.” He took a cookie and chewed thoughtfully. “So you had a nice chat with Cal and Mitch?”
“Yes. They were very informative. And I’m wondering …”
She stopped herself just in time. Wondering about Jake was another dangerous activity.
“What?” As he blew on the steaming coffee, his gaze never left hers.
Damn. Even tired he didn’t miss anything. Ignoring his question would just get more attention. “It just occurred to me that both of them are married and have families. You don’t. Why is that?”
“I have different goals.”
“Oh?”
“I want other things from my career. Being chief trauma surgeon will get me where I want to be in terms of practicing medicine. After that the sky’s the limit. I’ve thought seriously about politics.”
“That seems self-indulgent. A power trip.”
“You don’t approve.” He wasn’t asking.
Without confirming, she said, “Medicine is community service in its purest, most basic form. It’s a higher calling than self-gratification.”
“Without politics, policies don’t change and people don’t get help.”
“But not just anyone can save a boy with belly trauma. You’re highly trained to save lives. Let someone else without those skills change policy.”
His expression turned stormy. “Someone with my particular skill set has a unique perspective in shaping the future of health care in this country.”
“Maybe. But I can’t help thinking that it isn’t people in general, but you in particular at the top of your priority list. It seems to me that you’re all about money and power.”
Fire turned his eyes to quicksilver. “Does taking shots at me make you feel better about kissing me back?”
“That’s not what this is about.” Although she knew his question wasn’t far from the truth.
“I’m glad burying your head in the sand is working for you.” He looked at the pager at the waist of his scrubs. “I’ve got patients.”
Without another word he stood and walked out. Suddenly she was alone. It’s what she wanted and it should have made her happy, but it didn’t. And it had everything to do with her damned attraction to that man. It simply refused to go away. What she needed was anger, buckets and buckets of being mad as hell. That’s what had gotten her through the first stages of grief after losing her husband.
She needed to get angry and channel her mad, use it in any way possible to protect herself.
But she shouldn’t have to work so hard. The allocation of that much energy didn’t make a whole lot of sense given the fact that she didn’t have an especially high opinion of Jake. His medical expertise was exemplary. His moral high ground? Not so much. And yet, her mouth still tingled every time she saw him.
The trick would be not seeing him at work as much as possible.
Twenty-four hours after running into Hope, Jake was still intrigued and annoyed in equal parts. He walked into the office he shared with his partners where their billing and paperwork were done. Mitch and Cal’s specialty was emergency medicine, which meant no long-term care. Jake had a single exam room for his occasional follow-up on a surgical patient. In the back, their conference room held a classy, mahogany table and three high-backed leather chairs for monthly status meetings. He was hoping that seeing his friends would take his mind off Hope.
She was deliberately trying to piss him off. Really working at it. What the hell had he ever done besides kiss her? He had to admit it was a really great kiss, but still …
“Are you going to stand out here in the hall and daydream?” Mitch had walked up behind him. His smile was set on screw-with-a-friend. “We were foolishly hoping our fearless leader would come inside and celebrate his shiny new promotion with the peasants.”
“It’s not daydreaming if one is gathering one’s thoughts,” Jake defended. Only he knew the lie for what it was.
“You have that look on your face,” Mitch said. “The confused-about-a-woman expression.”
Just then Cal walked by and made a dramatic show of putting his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear. I’m an impressionable and sensitive man.”
“Sensitive like a water buffalo.” Jake was glad his partner had given him an excuse to ignore the “woman” comment and dodge that bullet.
The three walked in the conference room and took seats around the table with Jake taking the head and his friends on either side, as usual. They were barely settled when Cal pulled out his wallet. As usual.
“Before we get down to business you have to see this picture.”
Mitch took the photo and grinned. “Look at those blond curls Annie’s got.”
“Looks just like me,” Cal said proudly.
Jake studied the photo of Cal, his daughter and wife, Emily. “Annie’s really getting big.”
“So is Em. At least she will be,” Cal answered. “Before I’m accused of being a pig, you should know she’s pregnant. We’re going to have another baby.”
“That’s great.” Mitch reached across the table for a congratulatory handshake. “How did she pull that off? Surely you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Yeah. Right. Immaculate conception.” Cal glared. “Buddy, you need a refresher course in anatomy and the reproductive process.”
“Hardly.” Mitch wasn’t intimidated by the glare. In his glory days he could give lessons on the care, feeding and fringe benefits of a really good glare. “Samantha and I have the whole birds-and-bees thing goin’ on just fine.” He slid his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and took out a picture. “Equal time. This is the latest one of Lucas.”
Cal took it and smiled. “Tall, dark and dandy, just like his dad. Look at those teeth.”
“Two on the bottom and he’s working on the uppers.” Mitch’s tone was rueful. “He’s waking up a lot at night and Sam thinks it’s teething.”
“I feel your pain.” Cal tucked his picture away. “Annie is getting her two-year molars and it’s not pretty.”
“Great. More to look forward to. I can hardly wait.”
Without comment Jake listened to his two friends go back and forth about who was losing the most sleep. Once upon a time they’d both resisted love, even after meeting the right woman. Compelling personal reasons had put a fear of commitment into each man until a lonely future was far worse than taking a chance. Now when they gathered to discuss finances, goals, problems and growing their practice, the monthly status meeting started with an update on married life and growing their families.
Jake had always tolerated this part of the monthly meeting, not that he wasn’t happy for his friends. It’s just that he had career goals and success aspirations different from theirs. But today he was having a strange reaction to news about wives, kids and a new pregnancy. He always cared, but only half listened. Today he was interested. What was that about?
It was definitely new and he wondered what was different since last month. There were only two changes. His appointment to chief trauma surgeon.
And Hope.
He heard his name and realized they’d been talking to him. “What’s wrong?”
Mitch’s expression was intense. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Yeah.” Cal rested his forearms on the table. “You have something against marriage?”
“Not if it’s working for you.”
“It definitely is,” Mitch said. “Marrying Sam was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
“So says the man who in this very room swore up and down that he didn’t need conflict resolution counseling and it would be a waste of time,” Jake reminded him.
“You neglected to tell me that my counselor would be sexy. And smart. And the love of my life,” he added.
“My bad.” Jake grinned.
He remembered when Mitch’s attitude had ticked off most of the Mercy Medical staff, some of the physicians and administration. His behavior had put the trauma practice in jeopardy of not having their contract renewed. That would have dealt his own career trajectory a serious blow. But his friend salvaged the professional relationship with the hospital and found personal happiness.
“Darn right your bad,” Cal said. “I’m grateful every day that Emily came back into my life and gave me another chance. I don’t know what I’d do without her and Annie.”
“You sound like girls,” Jake teased.
The two looked at each other before Mitch said, “We’re okay with that.”
“So you guys are blissfully happy and recommend marriage. Good for you.”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” Mitch cautioned.
“I’m not knocking anything,” Jake protested. He looked at Cal on his right and Mitch on his left. “I get it. You guys are happy. Can we talk about business now?”
“One question. What’s going on with you and what’s-her-name? The daughter of the president of the hospital’s board of directors?” Mitch settled an intense look on him.
“You mean Blair Havens?” She was definitely Congressman Havens’s daughter and he was definitely president of the board of directors. Jake answered, “We’re dating.”
“Is it serious?” Cal asked.
“What are you? Her father?”
“I have a daughter,” he said. “And if any guy messes with Annie he’ll have me to deal with. So, I’m just saying …”
“Well, I guess it depends on what you mean by serious.” Jake was dodging the question.
“Serious as in settling down. Marriage,” Cal spelled out.
“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted. “Blair is beautiful, smart and connected. Her father was in Congress and still has political influence. It would be a good career move. But …”
“Ah. But,” Mitch said, a knowing look in his eyes. “A three letter word that means not so fast.”
“Something like that,” Jake agreed.
His personal life had flatlined a long time ago when he fell in love but didn’t pass her family’s white-trash test. In their eyes, once you’ve been homeless the smell of loser never goes away. The experience taught him not to take anything for granted. Hard work alone didn’t guarantee success or happiness. So, a relationship should buy you something. A career boost. Connections. The path to power. Something.
“Okay, guys.” He looked from Cal to Mitch. “Can I start the meeting?”
“Fine.” Mitch nodded.
“Okay with me.” Cal met his gaze. “The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I can get home to the family. Go, bro.”
Agendas were passed out and the first item was a status report on hiring new doctors for the practice. While his friends talked, Jake’s mind wandered to the memory of a pair of pretty hazel eyes flashing with humor and intelligence. A mouth, with its defined upper lip and full bottom one. A mouth that could be cute and crooked when she smiled. It was just a memory, but still had the power to drive him crazy.
And, dammit! This was his practice. The one he’d started with nothing but determination and guts. His career and the stability of his future was on the line. Everything he’d ever wanted was now his for the taking. This was an incredibly inconvenient time to lose focus.
He and Hope didn’t have a relationship, let alone anything that would guarantee him success. In fact, what was between them had the potential to implode all his plans.
Maybe he needed to talk to her again about keeping things between them purely professional.
Chapter Four
The sports bar across the street from Mercy Medical West was noisy and Hope didn’t really want to be there. But a couple of the E.R. nurses had reached out to her and socializing was a good way to generate trauma team spirit. On second thought, maybe a sports bar was the perfect place to be. She sat with her coworkers at a tall bistro table in the far corner of the room to the right of the walk-up bar. Flat-screen TVs were mounted on the walls and visible from every seat in the place.
Karen Richards, a petite strawberry blonde, was a hard worker and experienced E.R. nurse, by all accounts one of the best on staff. When the newest campus opened, her reputation would be put to the test. She held up her longneck bottle of beer and said, “This is your official welcome to Las Vegas, Hope.”
Green-eyed brunette Stacy Porter held up her pink cocktail. “I second that.”
“Thanks.” Hope touched her glass of white wine to each of theirs. “So, tell me about yourselves. Married? Kids?”
Karen toyed with her beer bottle. “I’m divorced. Two girls, Cassandra and Olivia, ages six and four. We live with my mom who’s a nurse at Mercy’s main campus. I’m twenty-six and still live with my mother. Is that pathetic, or what?”
There were worse things, Hope thought. “Is it working for you?”
“Yeah. She’s my rock and helps with child care.”
Hope nodded. “What about you, Stacy?”
The twentysomething held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers, showing off a diamond solitaire. “Just got engaged. Tim works in Human Resources at the hospital.”
“Congratulations.”
Even as she smiled, Hope tried to suppress the pang of envy. She remembered the huge joy of being with the man she’d loved and the shimmering anticipation of their life together. A life that barely got started before it was gone. Losing Kevin had nearly crushed her.
“When’s the big day?” Hope plastered a big, fat, fake smile on her face.
“April,” Stacy said. “Before Vegas is hotter than the face of the sun. It will be a church wedding, not in the Garden of Love Chapel with an Elvis impersonator.”
“Are you sure?” Hope held her palms up and lifted each in turn as if weighing something. “Elvis? The Chapel of Love? Church could be boring.”
The women laughed, but Hope knew from personal experience that boring was a blessing. Just then a cold wind blew into the bar and blasted boring into oblivion because Jake Andrews had walked through the door. It felt as if her heart hit a pocket of turbulence that made boring look even better. Some kind of radar drew his gaze to their secluded corner and he nodded at her before heading in their direction.