He spoke with a calm authority that sent staff scrambling to obey. Then again, who wouldn’t want to do whatever he asked if it meant receiving one of his killer smiles?

His long eyelashes were partly to blame for his appeal to women, she decided. Add dark brown hair and blue eyes, a firm jaw and an attractive dimple, and infatuation was a given.

While he wore the requisite surgical green scrub suit under a protective yellow paper gown, the shapeless garments didn’t detract from his muscular shoulders or his lean physique. If he could turn heads in this ugly garb, he’d probably stop traffic when he wore street clothes that actually fit. If the hospital ever created a doctor-of-the-month calendar featuring him as the centerfold they’d make a fortune.

As great as his physical appearance was, he wouldn’t have earned the moniker of “the delectable Dr. Donovan” if he didn’t have the personality to match. His charisma explained how he’d managed to get whatever—and whomever—he wanted in his department. His persistence and eloquent arguments had persuaded several top people to transfer her into his domain.

Apparently aware of her lingering presence, he flashed her a cocky grin.

Hating that he’d caught her loitering, and was obviously thinking she’d become one more member of his adoring fan club, she fled the room.

About the Author

JESSICA MATTHEWS’S interest in medicine began at a young age, and she nourished it with medical stories and hospital-based television programmes. After a stint as a teenage candy-striper, she pursued a career as a clinical laboratory scientist. When not writing or on duty, she fills her day with countless family and school-related activities. Jessica lives in the central United States, with her husband, daughter and son.

Recent titles by the same author:

EMERGENCY: PARENTS NEEDED

HIS BABY BOMBSHELL

THE BABY DOCTOR’S BRIDE

Dear Reader

One day I stumbled across an article about labyrinths and their associated healing effects. I was intrigued by how hospitals in the US are building these labyrinths on their campuses to help patients achieve spiritual health while their medical needs are addressed. I began my research and was fascinated by what I learned.

Consequently, I wanted to incorporate this concept into a story. I’ve taken a few liberties for my own purposes, but I simply had to create characters who needed the emotionally healing effects of a labyrinth.

I hope you enjoy what I’ve done. Happy reading!

Sincerely

Jessica Matthews

MAVERICK IN THE ER

JESSICA MATTHEWS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Terry, for being my hero.

CHAPTER ONE

LET this be a lesson to you, Sierra McAllaster, she told herself in her rush to meet the incoming ambulance. Never say never.

She’d worked in Emergency Services before coming to Pennsylvania three months ago, and when she’d left North Carolina, she’d vowed that daily E.R. duty wouldn’t be in her future. She’d been there, done that, and although she’d once loved her work in that hectic department, it was time to pass the torch to others who thrived on the adrenalin rush. She wanted a more sedate pace with patients who weren’t broken bodies in need of an immediate fix, and she’d found it on the fifth-floor medical unit at Pittsburgh’s Good Shepherd Hospital.

However, just when she’d finally settled in to her new duties, her career plan had taken a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. At this very moment she was in the middle of the very position she’d never intended to fill again, thanks to a one-sentence clause in the fine print of her contract.

“Come on, people,” Trey Donovan, the senior emergency physician, yelled beside her. “Let’s move!”

By the time their small entourage had reached the ambulance bay, two paramedics were already tugging a stretcher out of the back of their vehicle.

A feeling of dread swamped her, but she reasoned it away. You don’t know this person. None of your friends or family could possibly be on that stretcher. This is a car accident—nothing at all like David’s situation.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to fall back into her objective professional mode.

“MVA,” one medic reported, using the shorthand Sierra recalled so vividly. Motor-vehicle accident. “Forty-five-year-old male with blunt trauma to the chest and abdomen, dislocated shoulder and sundry other injuries. BP is…”

Sierra noted the vital signs as she gazed down at the man lying on the gurney, strapped to a backboard and wearing a cervical collar. Bruises were already forming on his visible extremities and lacerations from broken glass crisscrossed his face. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, but his nose was swollen and clearly broken, which meant they’d need an airway.

“Let’s go,” Trey ordered, and off they scurried to the nearest available trauma room.

“He’s wearing a MedicAlert bracelet,” the other paramedic reported. “According to the company records, he’s a diabetic and he’s currently taking Coumadin, hydrochlorothiazide and something called liraglutide.”

The blood-pressure medicine wasn’t unusual for someone his age, but the blood thinner was. “Has he had a recent heart attack or stroke?”

“We don’t know, but his left knee has a freshly healing scar. Maybe a recent joint replacement? The police are trying to locate his next of kin.”

“Any record of insulin?”

The paramedic shook his head. “None.”

“What was that last drug you’d mentioned?” Trey asked, his brow furrowed as if trying to place the medication.

“Liraglutide,” the paramedic repeated.

Trey turned to one of the nurses. “Call the Pharmacy and ask—”

“Don’t bother,” Sierra interrupted. “It’s a new drug just approved by the FDA for treating type 2 Diabetes.”

“Oh.”

Trey’s dark-eyed gaze met hers over the gurney and she read his unasked question. “I had a patient who had trouble controlling his diabetes, so we tried it. It’s not the first line of therapy and has a number of side effects, but in his case it was a last-ditch resort and it worked,” she explained.

He grinned, and the most endearing dimple appeared in the side of his cheek. “Your first official day and you’re already handy to have around.”

Strangely enough, her face warmed under his appreciative comment. Sierra McAllaster did not respond to empty flattery with a blush, she reminded herself. Thanks to her husband, who’d liberally used his charm to his own advantage, she’d eventually determined it was merely a tool to get what he wanted. The lesson had been painful to learn as her illusions had been shattered, but she’d never forget it. Never again would she fall for a fellow who troweled on charm as easily as a brickmason laid his cement. She’d become immune to men like him.

However, immunized or not, it seemed rude to refuse to return his smile so she did, even though she didn’t know why she was smiling in the first place.

A few seconds later, they’d pushed the gurney against the awaiting bed in the trauma room. Sierra locked the wheels in place with the toe of one pump, having already decided she’d overdressed for the demands of this department. She’d forgotten the frantic pace—or maybe she’d simply blocked it out of her mind—which meant a dress and heels weren’t her most practical choice of attire.

“Lift on three,” Trey ordered. “One, two, three.”

Everyone complied in one smooth, well-rehearsed motion to move their patient to his new bed. Sierra hoped any residual blush on her face could be attributed to the strain and not Trey’s flattering comment.

“Can you hear me, Mr. Klein?” Trey spoke to the fellow. “You’re in the hospital and we’re going to take care of you.”

Unable to nod because his head and neck were immobilized, he simply blinked and mouthed, “Okay.”

Sierra hung around and helped the nurses organize the patient’s tubes and swap the paramedics’ equipment for hospital-issue while Trey issued orders for X-rays and lab work, requesting the same procedures Sierra would have if she’d been in charge of this case.

His next command caught her by surprise. “Go to lunch, Sierra.”

She paused. “You don’t need help?”

He shook his head and flashed his trademark grin. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Yes, he was, she thought as she moved out of the way, somewhat reluctant to leave just yet. Instead, she took a few minutes to observe her colleague in action.

Today might be her first official day in Emergency, but it wasn’t the first day she’d worked with Trey. In her previous position as hospitalist on the fifth-floor medical unit, she’d received several patients he’d admitted and had answered his call for a consultant on numerous occasions. His medical skills then, like now, seemed outstanding.

He spoke with a calm authority that sent staff scrambling to obey, but she could tell they did so out of a desire to please rather than a sense of fear. Then again, who wouldn’t want to do whatever he asked if it meant receiving one of his killer smiles? She’d seen how his grin had turned even the most independent, career-minded woman into the equivalent of a simpering teenager.

He was also more than just a handsomely wolfish smile. His long eyelashes were partly to blame for his appeal to women, she decided. Add dark brown hair and midnight-blue eyes, a firm jaw and an attractive dimple, and infatuation was a given.

He was a tall man, which made nearly every female, no matter her size, feel dainty and feminine. While he wore the requisite surgical green scrub suit under the protective yellow paper gown, the shapeless garments didn’t detract from his muscular shoulders or his lean physique. If he could turn heads in this ugly garb, he’d probably stop traffic when he wore street clothes that actually fit.

If the hospital ever created a doctor-of-the-month calendar featuring him as the centerfold, they’d make a fortune.

As great as his physical appearance was, he wouldn’t have earned the moniker of “the delectable Dr. Donovan” if he didn’t have the personality to match. His charisma explained how he’d managed to get whatever—and whomever—he wanted in his department. Because of his persistence and eloquent arguments that she was the one physician who could immediately fill the long-vacant position in his service, he’d persuaded several top people to transfer her into his domain. Granted, she was only covering until the heads of Emergency Services and Internal Medicine hired a physician specifically for the post but, as far as she was concerned, a day spent in the ED was one day too many.

Apparently aware of her lingering presence, he flashed her a cocky grin.

Hating that he’d caught her loitering and was obviously thinking she’d become one more member of his adoring fan club, she fled the room. After a brief stop at the staffing board, where she slapped a Lunch magnet beside her name, she hurried outside, into the warm afternoon sun.

Trey surreptitiously watched Sierra leave as if a rabid dog were nipping at her heels and hid his smile. He’d first met her three months ago when he’d called the fifth-floor medical unit to request a stat internal medicine consult and Sierra had responded, barely giving him a second glance.

Accustomed to dealing with flirty and simpering females, Trey had been taken aback by her disinterest at first but then he’d been intrigued by it. In his earlier life as a footloose, carefree bachelor, he would have responded to the challenge she presented and pursued her with everything he had. However, that had all changed when his sister-in-law, Marcy, had died. While his relationships were still of the short-term variety, he’d come to the conclusion that even those were difficult to juggle with everything else in his life. Acting as Mitch’s “big brother,” helping Mitch raise his niece and coping with the demands of his job took nearly all of his free time.

As much as he’d like to know Sierra on a more personal level, his gut told him that she wasn’t the sort who would embrace such a temporary and superficial relationship.

Instead, she was the type to make a man think about the future in terms of the next twenty or thirty years. At times, he tried looking ahead that far, but he simply wasn’t ready to let a woman get that close. Between coping with Mitch’s downward spiral after Marcy’s death and his struggle to meet all of his family obligations, he didn’t have the time or the energy to devote to anyone else.

That hard truth, however, didn’t prevent him from wishing Sierra would be happy with what he could offer, especially after today when he’d seen her face turn a beautiful shade of pink. What woman in this day and age, especially one who’d survived the rigors of medical school and residency, actually blushed? Be that as it may, that small flaw only enhanced her already attractive features.

Her fine bone structure gave her an ethereal quality, as if she didn’t belong in a field as brutal as emergency medicine, but her athletic frame suggested she wasn’t a stranger to hard work.

As lovely as he considered her face and form, her thick auburn hair was nothing short of awesome. The color reminded him of flames dancing on the hearth and without any effort at all he pictured her shaking out her braid until every strand cascaded over her beautiful shoulders.

If that wasn’t enough, her shapely legs with their miles and miles of soft skin made his throat go dry. Today, like most days, she wore low-heeled pumps and a dress that fell to just above her slim knees. Her garb wasn’t practical for the demands of working in Emergency and she’d probably switch to baggy scrub suits and tennis shoes tomorrow, but he’d enjoy the view while it lasted.

His libido and personal preferences aside, he was still glad she’d finally joined the emergency-services staff. For that reason, he found himself grinning like a loon whenever he saw her.

Actually, she hadn’t joined as much as she’d been transferred. Over the past year, he’d created a paper blizzard that had gone to every department head, vice president and hospital-board member, protesting the fact that his department’s extra medical position had never been filled. As soon as he’d learned of Sierra’s credentials and past experience in Emergency, he’d intensified his efforts. If Administration had agreed they’d needed the position, he’d argued, then it was pointless not to fill it, especially when someone already on staff was ideal for the job.

While everyone agreed with his reasoning, Sierra’s boss, Lane Keegan, hadn’t wanted to lose her from the medical unit. If not for pressure from above, they’d still be at an impasse, but finally, after weeks of negotiating details, Keegan had given in. On one point, however, he’d refused to budge.

Sierra would only fill Trey’s position until they found a replacement who met the criteria, but not for longer than sixty days. Which meant Trey still had fifty-nine to work his magic and convince her to stick around permanently. His philosophy was, Better the devil you know than the one you don’t, and he’d prefer to keep Sierra, who got along well with the staff, rather than bring in a new person who might clash with everyone.

Roma Miller, the nursing supervisor who’d just received her thirty-year service pin, strode in. “Where was Dr. McAllaster going in such a hurry?”

He shrugged. “Lunch, I guess.”

“No kidding? I’ve never seen her walk so fast.”

Interesting. “She must be hungry,” he offered, although he suspected the reason for her rush had had nothing to do with her appetite and everything to do with regaining her composure after he’d caught her studying him.

In spite of her cool attitude, in spite of her standoffish ways, Sierra McAllaster obviously wasn’t as resistant to his charm as she pretended.

Munching on an apple, Sierra strolled along the circular concrete pathway of the hospital’s favorite attraction—the Healing Garden and Labyrinth—which had been created just outside Emergency. Normally, she walked the circular concrete pathway in order to recharge her mental batteries when she had a tough patient, but today her reflections were far more personal and far more immediate.

Her ridiculous reaction to Trey’s flattering comment still bothered her. Her marriage had taught her to not fall victim to a man’s flattery and until now she hadn’t. Why today was different remained a complete mystery. In her opinion, Trey’s charm was a strike against him.

He had also earned a second strike because if it weren’t for him, she’d still be reporting to work on the fifth floor, where she belonged. Although, in all fairness, she didn’t know if she should be upset with him or with herself.

If she’d been in Trey’s position, she would have presented the same case he had, asking that the vacant position be filled with a doctor who was already on staff and who possessed ED experience. As Fate would have it, she was the one with the least seniority—the only one, in fact—who fit the criteria.

Her options had been limited—either take this assignment or end her contract.

Leaving hadn’t been a viable option. She’d finally unpacked the last box of household goods this past weekend and the idea of hunting for a new job was too tiring to contemplate.

On the other hand, she did have a third option. If she’d been honest and explained why she couldn’t work in Emergency, perhaps Dr. Keegan might have chosen someone else. Pride, however, had stopped her. She’d come to Good Shepherd with a clean slate and if she dragged out her history to use like a get-out-of-jail-free card, her past would become an open book. The doubts, the pitying glances and every emotion in between would start, and she refused to deal with that from staff and her colleagues.

Consequently, she’d decided it might be time to face her fears and put those horrors behind her. Although she didn’t want to work in Emergency, she suddenly had a desire to prove she was able to.

Fortunately, Dr. Keegan had offered her several consolation prizes. One—and the most important—she was only filling in temporarily. So what if she was back in the area where she’d sworn she’d never work again, treating everything from acid reflux to herpes zoster infections, traumas to diabetic comas? She’d endured far worse and for a far longer period. Sixty days was nothing more than a wrinkle that would iron itself out in due time.

Two, Dr. Keegan had promised she could return to her hospitalist position on the fifth floor. Knowing how the other internist, William Madison, was already complaining about covering those patients as well as his own in the cardiac ICU, he was also eager for her to shake the E.R. dust off her feet and return to where she belonged.

Three, the odds of encountering a trauma that involved a close friend or family member were nonexistent. After three months in Pittsburgh, she still hadn’t developed any serious friendships or personal relationships and as long as she was expected to staff the ED, she intended to keep it that way.

As she strolled around the labyrinth, a growing sense of acceptance and her natural can-do attitude filled her. Her transfer may have thrown her off balance, but she was slowly feeling more in control over her situation. Today’s trauma had only caused her a few moments of anticipatory dread, but after that she’d handled herself well. She’d still have some bad moments, but she’d be able to deal with them. She would deal with them.

Her next mental project was to get Trey Donovan, including his twinkling eyes and his lazy grin, out of her head. After a single morning in his presence, he’d already shattered her calm, making her wish for those happy-ever-afters she’d stopped imagining were possible.

She knew better than to respond like a schoolgirl to a man who had enough charisma for three guys, but she’d done it anyway. Maybe her reaction was due to first-day-on-a-new-job stress because she’d been dreading this day for the past week. Maybe it was because she hadn’t slept well last night and her defenses were down.

Maybe it was because her blood sugar had dropped. She’d chosen to take the late lunch break and that had been delayed because they’d been busy.

Then again, maybe it was all of the above. Yes, she decided. That was it. She’d been simply tired, stressed and hungry. This afternoon, she’d be more like her old self, able to resist his wicked grins with the logic that they meant nothing.

“Can I walk with you?”

Startled out of her private thoughts, Sierra glanced down to see a girl, about ten years old, falling into step beside her on the concrete walkway. The child wore an oversize T-shirt, bright pink leggings and well-scuffed white-and-lavender tennis shoes. Her skin was tanned and her brown hair possessed lighter streaks, which suggested she spent a great deal of time outdoors. Several strands of hair had escaped her ponytail, which wasn’t quite centered in the back of her head.

Although Sierra wanted to finish her walk through the labyrinth in contemplative quiet, she didn’t want to be rude. Instead, she glanced around the garden, carefully scanning each bench for a potential parent or an otherwise responsible adult. Surprisingly, the garden was vacant and no one else was walking the labyrinth. They were alone.

“Won’t your parents wonder where you are?” Sierra asked instead.

“My mom’s dead and when my dad’s out of town I stay with my uncle,” the girl informed her. “He says I have to keep myself busy until he finishes his shift. He has a very important job, you know.”

“Really?” she replied, amazed by how anyone could expect a child at her age to amuse herself in a hospital for hours on end. Surely a man who had this so-called “very important job” would realize that.

“He’s a doctor,” the child added meaningfully.

Sierra wasn’t as impressed as the little girl obviously expected her to be. By virtue of his profession, the man should know better than to let a child run around a busy medical center completely unsupervised.

Immediately Sierra wondered if any of the physicians she knew had a niece this age, but none came to mind. Even so, something about this child’s features seemed familiar.

“You’re a doctor, too, aren’t you?” the youngster asked, as if she already knew the answer.

“Yes, I am. Are you supposed to be outside by yourself?”

The girl drew herself up, adding an inch or so to her almost five-foot frame. “I’m almost eleven,” she said, clearly affronted by Sierra’s question. “My uncle says I can come out here if it’s not raining.” She raised her hands, palms up. “No rain today.”

“No. No rain today,” Sierra echoed. “Doesn’t he worry about you wandering all over the hospital while he’s working?”

“No, because I had to cross my hearts…” she pantomimed “…and promise to follow the rules. I can only go to certain places, like the li-berry, the coffee shop or this garden. Or his office,” she tacked on. “He trusts me.”

At least this nameless man had set a few boundaries.

“The other rule is that I don’t talk to or go with a stranger, no matter where I am.”

“I’m a stranger,” Sierra pointed out, deciding she would hunt down this irresponsible uncle and give him a piece of her mind, colleague or not! The risk was too great to leave this little girl unattended. The garden saw a lot of foot traffic and anyone who weighed more than a hundred pounds could haul this youngster off without breaking a sweat, even if she was kicking and screaming.

“No, you’re not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve seen you lots of times.” She scurried in front of Sierra and peered at her identification badge. “You’re Dr. McAllaster. Your name tag says so.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m Hannah,” she answered. “Now we aren’t strangers anymore.”

Hannah’s logic was definitely lacking. “Actually, we still are strangers,” Sierra corrected her gently. “I could be a not-very-nice person.”

Hannah’s ponytail bounced with each shake of her head. “Nope, you’re not. I’ve been watching you ‘cause you come here almost as much as I do. If you were a rotten person, you wouldn’t feed the birds your leftover crackers.”

Goodness! Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t noticed an unattended child before today? Or maybe she’d seen her and thought she’d been under the watchful eye of one of the many visitors who came to the garden for fresh air and sunshine. Regardless, it was still eerie to realize that someone had observed her so carefully without her knowledge. She would definitely have to pay closer attention to her surroundings in the future.

“Plus, you’re a doctor. Doctors aren’t mean people. Oh, they can do nasty things like give us a shot, but it’s for our own good,” she said confidently.

While Sierra agreed that most physicians were caring individuals, she personally knew of several who should have chosen a different profession. Even so, she wouldn’t destroy the girl’s illusions. Life would take care of those soon enough.

“A lot of people come here to walk, don’t they?” Hannah asked.

“They do.”

“My uncle says they built this because the lab-y-rinth,” she stumbled over the word, “is supposed to make people feel better. The Native Americans call it a medicine wheel.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. They’ve gotten really popular, he says, especially at hospitals. Walking the path helps people who have stuff like high blood pressure or who can’t relax. He says that the twists and turns are s’posed to represent the twists and turns in life.”

The child sounded like a brochure that detailed the hospital’s services. “He’s right. The labyrinth helps people put the bad things in perspective.”

“Is that why you’re here? So you can put the bad stuff in pers…pers…pective?”

Hannah’s insight surprised her. Sierra began visiting the garden during her lunch hour as part of her mental-health regimen when she’d first joined the medical staff. Walking the circular concrete pathways, which were lined with colorful petunias, helped her deal with stress, especially after she lost a patient. She also knew of several surgeons who walked the labyrinth in order to clear their heads before performing surgery.

“Yes, I do,” Sierra said. “Why do you come here? To be outdoors instead of being cooped up inside?”

Hannah shrugged. “I like this place. My mom died of cancer when I was little, and whenever I get sad, I walk until I feel better. Do you think she might have lived if there’d been a lab-y-rinth at her hospital?”

Hannah’s matter-of-fact tone didn’t minimize the compassion Sierra felt for her. Oddly enough, she almost wanted to give her nameless uncle a break. Being a single parent or, in this case, an uncle wasn’t easy, especially when one dealt with an obviously precocious child like Hannah.

“Sometimes cancer wins, no matter how hard people try to fight it.”

Hannah’s brown eyebrows drew together as she nodded. “That’s what my uncle says, too. He says she didn’t want to die, but it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t stay and watch me grow up.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Sierra agreed.

Oddly enough, her uncle seemed to have imparted good insight to his niece. Sierra added one mental point in his favor.

Suddenly, the sound of dogs barking broke the quiet. Hannah immediately pulled a hot-pink cell phone out of the matching pouch hanging around her neck and the barking stopped. Sierra chuckled at herself as she realized the noise was a ringtone instead of a pack of canines on the loose.

The youngster glanced at the display and winced. “Gotta go. ‘Bye!”

“Wait! “ Sierra called as Hannah began hurdling the flowers with an easy-limbed grace in her haste to head toward the north door. “What’s your uncle’s name?”

Hannah simply smiled and waved before she disappeared through the north door.

So much for discovering the child’s identity, Sierra thought as she watched Hannah somewhat benevolently. Knowing Hannah had a cell phone made her feel somewhat better about the situation.

To Sierra’s disappointment, her wristwatch showed her allotted break time was over, too, even though she hadn’t reached the center of the labyrinth. After taking one last look in Hannah’s direction and seeing her disappear through the glass entrance doors, Sierra carefully stepped over the petunias as she strode in the opposite direction and disposed of her apple core in the trash.

Inside the main emergency hallway, ringing telephones, whispering gurney wheels and excited voices contrasted sharply with the tranquility she’d left behind. Directly ahead, she saw two different paramedics from the ones she’d met earlier, another ED physician and a nurse escorting another gurney into a trauma room. Meanwhile, Trey was heading toward an exam room as he reviewed the form on his clipboard. As soon as he saw her, his smile widened.

“How was lunch?” he asked.

She thought of the precocious Hannah. “Interesting. Why don’t I take over for you so you can take your break?”

“Thanks, but this case shouldn’t take too long. It’s also too early to meet my lunch date in the cafeteria, so I might as well earn my pay.”

She should have known. The man probably arranged his personal schedule months ahead. “Then I won’t keep you.”

Before she turned away, he stopped her. “Save tomorrow for me, though.”

She paused. “Excuse me?”

“Lunch. Tomorrow. My treat. It’ll be my official ‘welcome to the department’ gesture.”

“Do you take every new person to lunch?” she asked.

“Everyone,” he reassured her. “Even the housekeeping staff. So don’t pack your apple.”

She stared at him in surprise. “How did you know—?”

“I’m an observant kind of guy.”

Of course he was, she thought wryly. “Okay, fine. We’ll do lunch.” Then, to make certain there would be no misunderstandings, she added, “Strictly between colleagues.”

His smile seemed as broad as his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

She turned away, but he stopped her. “Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?”

This time she smiled. “What does the grapevine say?”

“You’re not.”

“Correct, as usual,” she agreed lightly.

“Is there someone back home?” he pressed.

Sierra hesitated. How could she explain, and did she want to? However, if her answer prevented speculation and stopped people from pushing her towards every eligible man who came along, why not?

“There was,” she replied slowly.

“Breakups are tough,” he agreed, his expression sympathetic. “So you came to Pittsburgh to start over?”

If only it had been that simple. “I did, but the situation is a little more complicated than a mere breakup.” She met his gaze. “When I left North Carolina, I left my husband in the Fairview Cemetery.”

CHAPTER TWO

TREY didn’t know what had possessed him to broach the subject of her personal life. Perhaps he’d simply been looking for an excuse to stay away from Sierra and hearing of a fellow back home would have provided it. Perhaps he was simply a glutton for punishment and hearing of her unattached status would only provide a temptation he’d be hard-pressed to resist.

Unfortunately, her response had been completely unexpected. He’d certainly never dreamed that the man she’d left behind had been her husband, much less that he was dead.

Certainly, the information she’d shared explained so much—her long hours, her avoidance of the dating scene, and her move to a new city and work environment. She hadn’t come to Pittsburgh on some grand adventure to see the world. Like his brother, Mitch. Sierra was picking up the pieces of her life.

All of which proved his theory—the best relationships were temporary.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She nodded, apparently accustomed to hearing condolences if her frozen expression was any indication. “Thanks,” she murmured. Then, with a visibly shaky hand she smoothed her hair. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to see your patient?”

Her abrupt change of subject couldn’t have been more plain. Their question-and-answer period had come to a close, which was good. For a man who never had trouble finding something to talk about, he was suddenly at a loss for words.

He glanced at his watch. He only had ten minutes before his cafeteria appointment and it took nearly seven to walk there. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Enjoy your lunch.”

Eager to get away before he asked more questions, Sierra pulled the clipboard out of his hand and headed down the hall. She’d already shared more than she’d ever planned, and if she gave him enough time, the inevitable “What happened?” would follow.

She simply didn’t want to go there. Not now. Not yet. The tragedy had occurred over a year ago and she simply refused to dredge up those old feelings of shock, despair and anger, not to mention guilt. She’d finally come to the acceptance stage, but it hadn’t been easy.

Now, however, was not the time to walk down memory lane and analyze the past. At the moment, the only person who deserved her full attention was her patient—not Trey Donovan, and certainly not David McAllaster.

By the time she’d received the results of Karen Maxwell’s strep screen—it was negative—and referred her to an ENT specialist to evaluate her chronic sinusitis, Trey had returned, looking as rested and refreshed as he had before their full morning of traumas and regular patients.

As Sierra sank onto a chair in the nurses’ station, she noticed he was chatting up one of the radiology techs. The poor girl was smiling as if he’d single-handedly hung the sun, moon and stars.

“He has quite a knack with the women, doesn’t he?” Sierra mused aloud to Roma, who was clicking away on her keyboard at a nearby terminal.

“You must be talking about our famous Dr. Donovan,” Roma answered, without glancing away from her screen.

“How did you guess?”

“He does have a way with people,” she commented. “Young, old, male, female, staff, patients, it doesn’t matter. Why, I’ve seen him talk the most recalcitrant patients into behaving. When he’s on duty, things just run more smoothly.”

Sierra understood why. By virtue of his personality, he inspired people to dig deeply and give one-hundred-and-ten percent.

Just like David.

The only question was, did Trey do it for personal gain, or was he as altruistic as everyone believed? She wasn’t quite convinced of the latter.

Roma finally glanced away from her screen to direct her gaze down the hallway. “He’s so sweet to all of us. In fact, everyone fancies themselves a bit in love with him,” she remarked.

“I’ve gotten that impression,” Sierra said wryly. “Given the way women act when he’s around, I’d bet he never spends an evening alone. I’m surprised he has the energy to come to work.”

The nurse laughed. “There’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t date as often as you might think. Oh, there are a lot who’d give their right arm for a night with him, but he’s very careful about who he takes out. And he never sees anyone more than a handful of times.”

“Really.” Sierra wasn’t convinced, but Roma seemed to know what she was talking about. “I find that hard to believe.”

Roma shrugged. “It’s true. Dr. Donovan seems like a happy-go-lucky sort, but don’t let his winning ways fool you. There’s a lot more to our good doctor than meets the eye.”

Sierra watched as the X-ray tech walked away with a light step, her face beaming in obvious delight over her encounter with Trey. Meanwhile, he wore his own satisfied expression, which suggested he’d gotten whatever he’d wanted.

Just like David, she thought with some disgust. Everything was a game, nobody was anything more than a chess piece. Thank goodness she’d grown wise to such manipulations. She’d been a pawn once in her life. She wouldn’t be one again.

After finishing with his next patient, Trey strode back to the doctors’ office. He’d requested a CT scan for one of his patients with a debilitating headache and Lila, the X-ray tech, had promised the images would be online by two o’clock. It was five minutes till, so he didn’t expect to see them posted, but it didn’t hurt to check.

He accessed Joan Villiers’s computer file and, as he’d suspected, the CT scan was still pending. A brisk knock at the door heralded Roma’s arrival.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” the nurse remarked as she entered.

“What’s up?”

“Frances is here.”

“What’s wrong today?”

“Stomachache. Do you want me to give her to Dr. McAllaster?”

He thought a moment. “Yeah, but I’d better introduce them first, don’t you think?”

“Probably. Although I think the introductions are more for Dr. McAllaster’s benefit than Frances’s.”

“Right as usual.” Because he was curious, he asked, “From a nursing point of view, what’s your opinion of our new doc?”

Roma didn’t hesitate. “I think she’s doing okay. She’s a little tense, especially during traumas, but other than that I don’t have any complaints.”

“It’s her first day,” he reminded her. “She’s bound to be a little tense.”

“Hey, I wasn’t finding fault,” Roma protested. “Only making an observation which, as you said, is only to be expected. Now, if she’d come in all cocky and acting like a know-it-all, then I’d worry.” She patted Trey’s shoulder. “You done good, Doc, when you convinced them to transfer her to us.”

Pleased by Roma’s praise, he smiled. “I did, didn’t I?”

“According to the nurses on the fifth floor, they’re extremely upset because we stole her away.”

“It’s only for sixty days.” More or less.

“Yeah, well, they’re afraid they won’t get her back. According to them, she knows her stuff. Better yet, and unlike some doctors who shall remain nameless, she doesn’t treat them like they’re too stupid to live.”

“We were fortunate she came to Good Shepherd,” he commented, keeping the story Sierra had shared to himself. If she wanted everyone to know she was a widow—and she obviously didn’t if the information hadn’t circulated on the grapevine—she could divulge that news herself.

“Rumor says she didn’t want to be assigned to the E.R.,” Roma pointed out. “As you’re the one responsible for her transfer, I hope you intend to turn on the charm until she settles in.”

“Hey, I only made the suggestion,” he protested. “The decision came from people above my pay grade.”

“Be that as it may, if you hadn’t pushed for her, she wouldn’t be here.”

Roma was right. If he hadn’t waged his one-man war, his department would still be suffering from the lack of a physician. “Probably not,” he agreed. “We were lucky the upper echelon saw the situation from our point of view.”

Roma sighed. “I wish she’d applied for the E.R. post in the first place. Everything would be settled. As it is, who knows what her replacement will be like? “

The same thought had crossed Trey’s mind on several occasions. “I’m hoping she’ll grow to love us and will stay.”

“Hope all you want,” Roma said darkly, “but given how other physicians feel about E.R. docs, my money says she’ll run back to the fifth floor as soon as she can.”

Not if he could help matters… “I assume you’re referring to how the rest of the physicians look down on us because of the popular belief that we only decide on whether or not to admit a patient.”

“Yeah.”

It was a common stereotype, thanks to the nature of his profession. The people who presented themselves were either bleeding or sick and it was his job to either cure them or pass them off to someone who could, doing both as fast as possible. The department wasn’t called Emergency for nothing. Being the metropolitan city that Pittsburgh was, their ED never had a dull moment.

“We may not have an official client list like a private practice does, but we definitely have our regulars,” he mentioned.

“Like Frances.”

“Like Frances,” he echoed. “A lot of people list us as their primary-care physicians.”

“Probably,” Roma agreed, “but I’ll bet Dr. McAllaster feels as if she’s taken a step down in her career. Mind you, the nurses have a saying. ‘If the doctor ain’t happy, then nobody’s happy.’”

Trey disagreed. So far, Sierra hadn’t lost her temper or raised her voice and she’d been in various situations where it wouldn’t have been inappropriate. While staying calm was a great trait to exhibit in an emergency situation, over the past few months of their quasi working relationship, from what he’d seen, the woman gave the word unflappable new meaning.

“I think you’re wrong,” he said. “Sierra is too classy a lady to take out her frustrations on the rest of us.”

“She might be classy, but redheads can have fiery tempers.”

As far as he was concerned, calling Sierra a redhead was like describing the Perseid meteor shower as a few shooting stars, or the Grand Canyon as a big hole in the ground. “I’m not sure one has anything to do with the other. I’ve known lots of hot-tempered brunettes and blondes, too.”

“Okay, so I’m stereotyping,” she admitted, “but we’ll see fireworks down here before it’s over.”

He was half-eager for Roma’s fears to come true. Sierra, with her brown eyes flashing with the same fire he saw in her hair, would be an awesome sight. “Fireworks can be beautiful.”

“Yeah, in the night sky off the Roberto Clemente Bridge. Not in the hospital and without any warning.”

“I thought you liked to live life dangerously.”

“Me? Mrs. Boring who’s married to Mr. Extremely Boring?” She shook her head, smiling. “Not a chance. As much as I like my job, it has enough inherent aggravation without me looking for trouble. Speaking of which, the sooner we take care of Frances, the better.”

“Okay, but I have to check my CT scan result first. If everything looks okay and the injection we gave Mrs. Villiers is working, we can send her home.” A few keystrokes later, he found his report and read it with satisfaction. “Sure enough. She can go.”

After sharing his news with Mrs. Villiers, Trey found Sierra at the nurses’ station, ready to grab another clipboard out of the in-box.

“Before you take that case, I have a person I want you to meet,” he told her. “Room Ten.”

“A patient?”

How could he describe Frances? “Yes and no,” he admitted.

Her answering chuckle sounded sweet. “Which is it?” she asked.

“Frances is one of our colorful regulars. She’s a twenty-five-year-old woman with a learning disability who lives about a block away. Her mother used to work here and so she understands that the Good Shepherd E.R. is where people come for help.”

“Okay, so what’s unusual?”

“When I refer to ‘help,’ I’m using an extremely broad definition.”

“How broad is broad?”

“She comes in for minor things like a sliver in her hand, a skinned knee or a broken blister. She usually goes straight to the triage nurse, who finds out what she needs. Then, the nurse sends her to me or to one of the other doctors if I’m busy. We give her a little TLC and send her on her way.”

“I assume that I’m ‘one of the other doctors’?” she said dryly.

“Do you mind? “

“Not at all.”

“Good, because if you ever do see her, her visit will go easier if I’ve introduced you.”

“Okay. What’s her complaint?”

“Stomachache.”

She glanced at his empty hands. “Where’s her paperwork?”

“We don’t create any.”

Sierra stared at Trey. “No paper trail?”

“Like I said, she comes relatively often with such minor problems that we’d waste more time filling out forms than if we’d actually deal with her situation.”

She’d been warned of Trey Donovan’s unorthodox style, but she hadn’t expected to find an example of it so quickly.

“A few administrative people might be upset by the way you’re handling this individual,” she commented cautiously, to test his response. “Treating a patient without documentation. Legal liability issues, etcetera.”

He shrugged as if he was unconcerned. “I suppose they might be unhappy if Frances sues us for not removing a splinter properly. Until then, I guess you’ll have to decide if you’ll keep our secret or not.”

Sierra ignored the challenge in his voice. “Have you encouraged her to visit the outpatient clinic instead of the E.R.?”

“Frances has come here since she was a little girl so the concept is ingrained in her. Do you want to try and change her belief system at this late date?

“Besides,” he continued, “the clinic staff doesn’t know her like we do. They won’t take time for the minor things and if they do, they certainly won’t operate out of the goodness of their hearts. She won’t understand when they turn her away or ask her to pay, and then she’ll get upset and fall apart, which I can assure you is not a pretty sight. It saves so much wear and tear on everyone if we just do what needs to be done. A regular win-win situation.”

Sierra wanted to argue that Frances’s caseworker needed to be involved, but several things stopped her.

One, she was intrigued by how the ED staff had literally taken this woman under their wing.

Two, this was Trey’s domain. As the most senior ED physician, he knew his department’s strengths and limitations far better than she did. He also had the authority to establish policies and procedures, with or without his immediate supervisor’s approval. If he wanted to handle Frances in his own way, he certainly had the clout to do so.

This also seemed to be a prime opportunity to either build a bridge or a brick wall. She could stick to the hospital rule book, which would earn her brownie points from her superiors, or she could save her energy for more important battles.

On the other hand, if she caved in on this issue, was she setting a precedent? What if ten more people like Frances decided to visit the E.R. for their scrapes and scratches? They’d never have time or space to deal with the heart attacks, the broken bones or the car wrecks.

Would turning a blind eye signal that she was a pushover for a heartwarming story or a special case? The argument could be made that every person coming through the doors had special circumstances necessitating unusual solutions.

Can’t you be flexible for once in your life?

David’s voice whispered the last question and she instinctively stiffened. Unfortunately, his concept of flexibility had been his excuse for taking advantage of every opportunity that had come his way—opportunities that had covered everything from his business activities to moral decisions.

She’d always prided herself on meeting the needs of her patients, so how was this any different? If Frances had been one of her regular clients, would she have chosen differently than Trey and his staff had?

She let out a breath and nodded. “Let’s see Frances.”

Before she could take a step forward, he stopped her.

“If it looks like she has something serious, I want you to take over.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’m busy holding her hand to keep her calm, I can’t do my doctor thing.”

She chuckled at his choice of words. “Can’t walk and chew gum at the same time, eh?”

He rolled his eyes melodramatically. “Ah, now she makes a joke.”

“Sorry,” she said, unrepentant, “I couldn’t help it. Okay, we’ll do it your way. I’ll examine her while you play nursemaid. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty good at handholding and sweet-talking.”

His grin was boyishly wicked. “I’m good at other things, too.”

The sudden flare of heat in his eyes spoke of more physical activities—activities that her imagination so unhelpfully supplied in vivid, living color.

If she was going to work with the delectable Dr. D. so closely over the next few months, she really would have to get more sleep. Exhaustion didn’t give her the mental fortitude to rein in her wayward thoughts.

“I’m sure you are,” she said lightly.

Inside the room, Sierra saw the dark-haired woman curled into a fetal position on the bed. Another nurse, Billie, was taking her vital signs.

“Hi, Franny,” Trey said as he approached the bed and immediately took her pulse. “I hear you’re not feeling well today.”

Frances opened her eyes and offered a weak smile. “Hi Dr. D.,” she said in a singsong voice. “My stomach really, really hurts bad. Can you fix it? “

Her childlike question made Sierra wish for the several-hundredth time that medicine could solve the problem of a child’s mind trapped inside an adult body. Not many people could deal effectively with people with learning disabilities, and she carefully watched Trey’s demeanor. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she was pleasantly surprised to watch him smile benevolently at Frances while he patted her arm and questioned her about her diet.

As he talked, she herself focused on his sinfully thick dark hair, dark eyes and long eyelashes. She’d never studied him up close and personal before, but she understood how he’d developed his reputation of a dreamboat.

Thank goodness she wasn’t taken in by appealing packages.

“I think I was poisoned,” Frances moaned.

“Her temp is one-oh-two,” Billie interjected.

Trey glanced at Sierra, his humor evident in his eyes. “I don’t think you have food poisoning, Frances. But you are sick, which makes me glad I brought our very best doctor to see you. This is Dr. McAllaster.”

Sierra took her cue to come forward. “Hi, Frances.”

Frances gazed at Trey. “She can’t be the best ‘cause you are.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, Franny, but stomachaches are Dr. McAllaster’s specialty. Will you let her examine you?”

Frances apparently was convinced because she slowly nodded. “If you say so.”

Sierra immediately took over, not surprised by Trey’s ability to gain Frances’s cooperation. He’d obviously been dealing with this woman for quite a while.

“Okay, Frances,” she said softly. “I need you to stretch out for me.”

“But it hurts when I do,” she wailed.

“I know, but I really need you to lie flat.” After much maneuvering and moaning, Sierra gently prodded Frances’s abdomen. It didn’t take long to decide that her problem didn’t have a simple solution.

She turned to Trey. “Do you remember the paperwork you said you didn’t initiate? You’d better start it now.”

Over the next hour, Sierra realized she couldn’t have done her job without Trey. While Frances’s problem had been fairly straightforward, it had taken longer to arrive at the diagnosis because she hadn’t been particularly cooperative. Thank goodness Trey was a salesman at heart. He explained, gave guarantees and promised her everything from watching television to an ice cream if she’d allow them to do one more test.

He saw Frances through the pain of bloodwork and he did so with patience she hadn’t expected—patience that wasn’t contrived.

Neither did he express any great relief to relinquish his task when Frances’s mother arrived. Instead, he simply changed gears from moral-support agent to physician as easily as he flashed his handsome smile.

“Appendicitis?” he asked as soon as he cornered Sierra at the nurses’ station.

“I’m impressed,” she said, amazed at how he’d pinpointed her diagnosis before they’d received any reports. “You really can walk and chew gum at the same time.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents. Plus, it didn’t take too much effort to add lower-right-quadrant pain and rebound tenderness with a fever to come up with appendicitis. I assume her white count is elevated?”

“According to the report that came through a minute ago, it’s eighteen point four. I’ve already called Vijay. He said because it’s such a clear-cut case to save him a trip and send her upstairs to surgery.”

Vijay Gupta was a fourth-year surgical resident assigned to Emergency. Sierra had consulted with him on several patients prior to her current E.R. stint and thought highly of him. After he completed his training, he planned to return to his native India and Sierra would be sorry to see him go.

“Sounds good to me.”

Sierra always took pride in making accurate and timely diagnoses, but none more so than when Trey stopped her a few hours later, not long before their shift ended.

“Vijay called,” he said without preamble. “Frances’s appendix was the worst he’s seen in a long time. You’ll be pleased to know he was glad you’d sent her up when you did, otherwise there would have been dire consequences.”

Gracious, but she was blushing again. “It was a team effort,” she said lightly.

“That may be, but I think we should celebrate with a cup of coffee.”

“Coffee sounds good, but I’m not sure the occasion calls for a celebration,” she said. “I was only doing my job.”

The second those words came out of her mouth she realized how much she’d sounded like Professor “Grumpy” Gunderson. After she’d pored over a patient’s medical file for clues about his illness, she’d discovered an obscure fact which had led to a confirmatory test. Her fellow students had been impressed and she’d been proud, but “Grumpy” had raised one eyebrow and sniffed.

“You’re expected to make proper diagnoses, McAllaster,” he’d said in his most condescending voice. “Every patient deserves your best. It’s your job to provide it.”

Now, a question begged to be asked. When had she become so cynical and turned into Grumpy Gunderson?

“Working down here…” Trey interrupted her bleak thoughts as he herded her into the lounge “…we take our victories when we find them. Too many cases don’t have happy endings.”

As if she’d needed a reminder, she reflected wryly as he began pouring two mugs of the strong coffee.

“Black or white?” he asked.

“White.” She fished among the containers for a packet of sweetener and dumped in a moderate amount of powdered creamer.

He leaned against the counter, mug in hand. “Just so you know, our real partying takes place on Fridays, after work. You’ll have to join us. No excuses allowed.”

She thought about the days when she’d ended the work week with the rest of her ED team at a nearby watering hole. Their tradition had been for the most senior member to make two toasts—one to the staff for jobs well done and one to pay tribute to the people they’d lost.

Her finances could surely stretch far enough for her to resume the tradition, even if she honored it only during her temporary tenure in Emergency. While she took pride in her efforts when she’d discharged a patient from the fifth floor, drinking a glass of wine alone in her apartment didn’t generate the same emotional satisfaction as being surrounded by people who’d shared in the experience.

Until Trey had dangled the notion of a celebration in front of her, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the camaraderie associated with a group of her colleagues. Trey had inadvertently reminded her of another part of her life that David had stolen.

Well, no more. She’d come to Pittsburgh to start over, and creating a new routine was part of that. She may not be able to afford more than a glass of tea or a soft drink, but drinking wasn’t the issue. Being with friends and colleagues was.

“I didn’t realize I’d touched on such a deep subject,” he joked. “You looked like you were a hundred miles away.”

“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed at being caught woolgathering. “I was, but you’re right. We should rejoice in our success stories when we can.”

His smile nearly blinded her. “Then you’ll join us on Friday night?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Great,” he said with such enthusiasm that she knew he’d hold her to her decision, no matter what. “We’ll—”

Their pagers went off simultaneously. Sierra abandoned her mug and followed Trey out of the door.

A scuffle at the far end of the hall near the ambulance entrance doors caught her attention. Two police officers were escorting two punks in low-slung jeans and ripped T-shirts, but for every step forward they sidestepped two more in an effort to keep the two street hoods apart. Obscenities flew, along with several wild punches, but it was obvious that not long ago those punches had been landing.

One young man had a swollen, bloody nose and a bloodstained bandana wrapped around his right biceps. The other had one eye completely swollen shut as he limped forward.

Trey sighed. “Looks like the natives are restless.”

“No kidding. I thought they saved their fighting for Saturday nights,” she remarked.

“Around here, any time is a good time,” he answered. “I’ll take one and you can take the other so we can get them both out of here faster.”

“Okay.”

She started forward, but he pulled her behind him. “Stay out of the way until they’re stashed in separate corners.”

Stay out of the way? For a few seconds she stood in amazement at his high-handedness. Did he really think she couldn’t hold her own? She’d gone nose to nose with men who were far more belligerent than these two. Of course, she hadn’t been wearing a dress and heels at the time, but sometimes looking feminine gave her an advantage. Goons like these were often busy ogling her legs and forgot their reason for fighting.

She hurried to catch up, but Trey’s long-legged stride had already put him at the scene. Although she was still half a hallway away, she heard and saw everything.

“Take him…” Trey pointed to the one sporting a bloody nose “…to Trauma One and the other to Room Two.”

“Move it, buddy.” Officer Wright gave his prisoner a not-so-gentle nudge in the appropriate direction. “You heard the doc.”

“Hey, man, don’t tell me what to do.” The guy immediately began swinging.

Instinctively, Sierra knew this wasn’t going to end well. She watched in horror as the situation deteriorated, taking Trey with it.

CHAPTER THREE

TREY saw the man’s arm move out of the corner of his eye. He tried to duck as he watched a beefy fist come toward him, but his body didn’t respond to his brain’s command. His instincts warned him of the impending blow, but before he had a chance to brace himself for impact, his ears rang and his vision blurred.

He heard shouts and curses as if they were coming from a distance, but he concentrated on trying to protect himself. Before his scrambled brain could convince him to duck, a body plowed into his midsection and he lost his balance. His fall inevitable, he twisted to minimize the damage, but five hundred pounds of angry males landed on top of him, effectively causing him to kiss the floor.

The bruise on his chin and the weight on his back seemed minor in comparison to the excruciating pain that he felt in his right knee.

Damn! This wasn’t how this was supposed to play out, he thought, before everything faded to black.

Before Sierra could yell at Trey to watch out for the guy on his right, she heard the distinctive sound of flesh striking bone. For a split second, he stood upright, frozen in place, until the other man shoved Trey in his apparent haste to reach his enemy. Immediately, Trey crumpled like a broken toy and disappeared under the bodies of punks and police officers.

“Call Security,” she yelled over her shoulder as she hurried forward. She certainly couldn’t fight this battle if she relied on muscle because she was definitely outgunned. However, she could win through chemistry.

“Lorazepam,” she called out, already calculating an appropriate dose of tranquilizer to use. “Hand me lorazepam!”

Suddenly, what seemed like the entire emergency department materialized around them. By the time someone had slapped the medication in her hand, there were too many arms and legs to identify the owners. She could accidentally sedate a staff member, which would definitely not be the best thing to do.

To her great frustration, she simply had to wait for stronger backs to peel back the pile, layer by layer. Finally, only Trey was lying facedown on the floor.

Sierra knelt beside him, half-afraid of what she might find. “Trey,” she said urgently as she frantically ran her fingers over his head to check for injuries. “Can you hear me?”

She found a goose egg on his forehead, presumably caused by his bounce against the linoleum. “Trey?” she asked again.

This time, he groaned. “Must you scream in my ear?” he complained.

He’d answered. What a relief. “I’m not screaming. Can you move?”

“Barely.” He grimaced as he tried to roll over and only got as far as his side. “Damn. My knee.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Anything else?”

“You mean, other than the fact that my lungs will never be the same after being squashed within an inch of my life?”

She smiled at his affronted tone. If he could be sarcastic, his injuries probably weren’t as bad as she’d feared. His skin color was on the pasty side, but he didn’t sound wheezy or raspy, which was good because she felt guilty enough for not wading into the fray with him. “Yeah, other than that.”

“You’re the doc. You tell me.”

She paused to study him with her practiced eye. “We’ll need X-rays to check for hairline skull fractures or broken ribs, but as a purely preliminary opinion I’d cancel any photo ops if I were you.”

He swiped at the blood running down his chin. “That bad, eh?”

“It could be worse,” she said, taking a gauze pad someone had handed her to hold against his chin. “Besides the goose egg that’s probably giving you a headache and the gash you’re already well acquainted with, you’re developing quite a shiner. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be back to your handsome self in no time.”

“My handsome self, eh?” He tried to grin, but it came out as a grimace. With shaky fingers, he gently probed his cheekbone. “Oh, that hurts.”

“I’m sure. Pain is a common side effect of having your face meet a fist, but ice will help. What about your chest? Can you breathe in and out easily?”

He huffed first, then took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah.” He rubbed the side of his chest. “My ribs are sore, though. How do football players handle this day after day?”

“Conditioning and extra padding,” she answered. “Let’s get you to a room so I can look at your knee. Ready?”

He winced. “I’ll have to be.”

Immediately, multiple hands pulled him upright. “Any dizziness?” she asked.

“Not really,” he muttered as he sank heavily into a waiting wheelchair, his face white with pain.

“Who’s on call for Orthopedics?” Sierra asked Roma.

“Abernathy. I’ll page him,” the nurse said.

She turned back to Trey. “Ready for your ride down the hall?”

“No. I want to go home instead.”

“Don’t be a baby,” she scolded lightly as she pushed his wheelchair alongside a bevy of worried-looking staff.

“Did anyone ever tell you your bedside manner lacks a little something?” he grumbled. “Like compassion?”

“Would you rather I stand here and gush all over you?” she wanted to know. “If so, I could hand you to another doctor, but I don’t think Lamont or Ben are likely to treat you like spun glass either. Marissa might, but you’re older than her usual clientele, so who knows?”

Lamont Stedman and Benjamin Kryszka, both men pushing forty, were the other two ED physicians on duty. Marissa Landower, an attractive woman about ten years older, was the resident pediatrician. While any of them would fuss a bit over him, none would fall apart like a dewy-eyed debutante.

He peered at her, looking like a lopsided raccoon. “I should get hazardous-duty pay.”

“If it will make you feel better, I’ll give you one of the kids’ sugar-free lollipops. Cherry or grape?”

“Can you lace it with a painkiller?” he asked, his voice hopeful.

“Sorry.”

“Then I’ll pass.”

Sierra braked the wheelchair beside the bed. “Do you want to hop up here or stay where you are?”

“I’ll stay right here, thank you very much. It’ll save on wear and tear when you send me to my car. So I can go home,” he finished pointedly.

“What? And miss a trip to Radiology?” She tutted. “Now, Dr. Donovan—”

“This is so unnecessary,” he grumbled. “I have a minor bump on my head, my chin’s not bleeding nearly as badly as it was and I wrenched my knee. Nothing that a few ice packs and a bandage won’t cure.”

She leaned over to study the gash, fully aware of how wonderful he smelled. “You’re right about your chin. A butterfly bandage should take care of it. As for the rest of your aches, we need X-rays.”

“No, we don’t.”

His expression reminded her of a little boy whose wishes were being thwarted. If he crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip, the picture would be complete.

The diagnosis was in and it was definite—Dr. Donovan was a lousy patient.

“Yes, we do,” she said, hiding her amusement. “How would it look if I sent you home with a subdural hematoma, a concussion or a torn ACL?”

“I didn’t tear my ACL,” he said. “Anterior cruciate ligament tears would be more painful and I would have heard a distinct pop, which I didn’t. I also didn’t fracture my skull and I absolutely, positively, do not have a concussion.”

“Here’s your ice pack, Doctor.” A nurse thrust the cold bag at him and he placed it on his face with heartfelt thanks.

“You know your brain wasn’t scrambled because…?” She waited for his response.

“I’ve had a concussion before and my current headache doesn’t come close.”

“That’s good to hear, but while you may have Superman’s X-ray vision, I, as your physician, do not.” She motioned to one of the nurses to begin taking his vital signs. “So your opinion is overruled. We might even spring for an MRI of your knee.”

“You’re making far too much of this.”

“Risk Management and Workman’s Comp all require a thorough exam, which is what I’m trying to do. As one of the hospital’s finest and most illustrious staff members, you should sit back and enjoy the attention.”

“I’d rather be at home, licking my wounds in private.”

While his injuries were obviously painful, she suspected they were strictly of the minor variety. “You’ll get there soon enough,” she predicted. “Meanwhile, let’s slip you into a hospital gown so we can take a look at—”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s either that or cut off your pants leg,” she warned. “I can’t see through fabric either.”

“Grab your scissors,” he said firmly. “Losing a pair of pants is not worth the indignity.”

“Okay, but it’s a waste of a perfectly good garment.”

“They’re mine to waste. Cut.”

With an order like that, she couldn’t refuse. She began snipping through the cotton, careful to avoid puncturing his skin. Each slice revealed more of his muscular leg and caused her mouth to suddenly go dry.

To make matters worse, she was oddly unsettled by her task, which was ridiculous because she’d cut off clothing before without a second thought, and on a number of men more handsome than Trey. If she wasn’t almost finished, she would have turned over the job to one of the hovering nurses, who clearly would have been thrilled at the honor.

“Do you run?” she asked, trying to deal with her view of his leg clinically.

“Yeah.”

His knee was too swollen for her to pull the free leg off, so she sliced the fabric lengthwise and laid it open. “You’ll have to postpone your daily jogs for a while.”

“You think?”

She smiled at his sarcasm. “You really are holding true to the stereotype about doctors being lousy patients.”

“I’m entitled. This whole thing was so stupid! It should never have happened.”

The guilt she’d been holding at bay reappeared. “Maybe next time you’ll let me handle it.”

His battered face didn’t hide his skepticism. “And what would you have done? Ended up at the bottom of the pile with me? Or, worse yet, instead of me?”

His outrage was obvious and she understood why. Men hated appearing weak. Being caught off guard and injured because of a misplaced punch would, in their opinion, epitomize the very trait they hated. Now, if he’d earned his wounds because he’d thrown a few blows of his own, they would have become badges of honor.

“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded, “but you shouldn’t feel embarrassed either. In fact, once news gets out, you’ll become more popular than you already are.”

“I guess.” He didn’t sound too happy about his new status, which surprised her. David had always preened under extra attention and she’d expected Trey to do the same.

“Can I have some ibuprofen and ice for my knee now?” he complained.

“The ice is coming right up,” she said. “We’ll save the pain reliever until after your CT scan.”

“BP is one forty-five over eighty,” the nurse broke in to report. “Pulse is sixty-eight.”

“Your blood pressure is a little high—”

“Of course it is,” he snapped. “Getting caught in the middle of a fight will do that.”

Sierra exchanged a wry glance with Roma. Clearly the charge nurse held Sierra’s opinion about Trey’s attitude. She looked as if she was ready to comment when another nurse brought a fresh ice pack, breaking the moment.

Sierra secured the bag to his knee with elastic wrap. “This’ll hold it in place while you’re visiting Radiology. After you’re back and Dr. Abernathy sees you, we’ll wrap your knee more securely.”

“What? No Lachman’s? No pivot shift test?”

She smiled as he referred to the two tests performed to diagnose an ACL injury. “Knowing an orthopedist will do those himself, do you really want me to manipulate your knee and leg just to prove I know how? “

“True. Good idea to wait.”

Sierra stepped aside. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

For the next hour, past the time Sierra’s shift should have ended, a steady stream of staff members approached her to ask how Trey was doing. Even the people who were just reporting for duty had heard of the mishap and begged for details.

The two prisoners stopped her in the hallway to gruffly pass on their apologies to Trey before their caretakers herded them to jail.

“What was all that about?” she asked Ben and Lamont, who acted rather pleased with themselves as they perched on the counter beside her.

“We let it be known they’d better be on their best behavior if they ever come here again because we don’t take kindly to our staff getting hurt,” Lamont replied. “The next time they lose their cool and need something more than a few stitches, we’ll use drugs that produce some unpleasant side effects.”

“Like impotence, incontinence, hair loss, skin blemishes, boils, diarrhea and blurred vision,” Ben chimed in.

“Not to mention anal leakage and flatulence.”

Sierra looked at her two colleagues in amazement. “You didn’t.”

“We did,” Lamont assured her, before he exchanged a wide grin with his partner-in-crime.

She laughed. “You guys are awful. You both look so meek and mild-mannered, but underneath you have an evil streak.”

“Hey,” Lamont protested without heat, “we protect our own. Now that we’ve done our good deed for the day, we’re going home. Are you sticking around?”

“Only until Radiology turns Trey loose.”

While she waited, she impatiently checked the computer for his test results. One by one, the reports filtered in.

Normal chest film. No skull fracture. No concussion.

All she needed now was Dr. Abernathy’s recommendation and she could grant Trey his wish. Of course, she could have granted it sooner if she hadn’t gone overboard with the X-ray requests, but she wasn’t going to risk overlooking anything. There would be hell to pay if she did, not only from her boss and Trey’s, too, but also from Trey’s adoring public.

Finally, an X-ray technician wheeled him into the trauma room. His normally relaxed mouth was pinched with apparent pain and the orbit of his other eye was slowly turning dark.

“What do you know,” she said cheerfully. “Your eyes match.”

He looked so forlorn she wanted to give him a hug. Now, that would cause the rumor mill to kick into gear…

“Great,” he said glumly. “By the way, my CT scan was normal. Any chance I can have that ibuprofen now?”

Because she’d seen the report on her screen just moments ago, she agreed. “Absolutely.”

While she doled out two pills, then two more when he glared at her, Nathan Abernathy rushed in, apologizing for his delay. Sierra looked on as he conducted his own exam, including the tests Trey had previously mentioned. A few minutes later, Roma waved to her from the doorway.

Sierra slipped outside the room. “What’s up?”

“Dr. Donovan has a visitor.”

“Only one?” she asked wryly.

Roma smiled. “Only one.”

“Female, I’m presuming?”

“Yes, but—”

“She’ll have to wait until Abernathy is finished.”

“It would be better if she didn’t.”

“Ah, I get it. A VIP?”

“Dr. Donovan would think so.”

How typical, Sierra thought with some disgust. He’s busy flirting with every woman he meets, but he has a girlfriend—a very important girlfriend—waiting in the wings.

“I think you should talk to her before she sees him,” Roma continued. “Prepare her for what he looks like.”

Imagining a blonde bimbo falling apart and weeping over him because he wouldn’t be able to take her dancing for a few weeks, Sierra grimaced. She glanced inside the trauma room and saw Abernathy continuing his joint manipulation. “Okay. Where is she?”

Roma pointed toward the nurses’ station. “There.”

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