Dating Dr Delicious. Laura Iding
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didn’t have time for men. Even one as sexy and charming as Jake. There was no point in wondering if Jake would be supportive of her chosen career. Or supportive of her messed-up family.
Jake would be nothing more than a distraction she couldn’t afford.
Hannah met up with Andrea in the female surgical-residency locker room on the third day, relieved to discover they had been assigned to the same rotation, trauma surgery, for the month of July. Today was their first day taking care of real, live patients.
Hannah proudly donned her knee-length lab coat over her scrubs. The medical students were forced to wear short lab coats so that it was clear to the hospital staff that they were only students.
Now it would be clear to the hospital staff that she was a doctor. A surgical resident responsible for treating patients. She tucked her stethoscope into her pocket and took a deep breath.
She could do this. She’d studied hard and trained for this.
“Are you nervous?” Hannah whispered to Andrea as they walked down to the busy arena, the heart of activity in any emergency department. There were patients everywhere. Patients that were counting on them as residents to have a clue as to what might be wrong with them.
She quickly squelched the sliver of self-doubt.
“No.” Andrea glanced at her for a long moment and then shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
They walked up and introduced themselves to the senior resident on Trauma, Dr. Richard Reynolds.
He didn’t look thrilled to be saddled with two new residents. Did he have a grudge against females being in the program? Hannah wasn’t sure, but remained determined to prove him wrong, no matter what his assumptions were.
“There are a couple of trauma patients on the way in from a motor-vehicle crash,” Richard said. “I want each of you to take one of the patients. The attending on call today is Dr. Holt and both of us will be here if you need help. Any questions?”
Traumas? On their first day caring for patients? The look on the senior resident’s face was almost sneering, as if he expected them to balk at the responsibility. So Hannah straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No questions.”
His gaze narrowed a bit, but then he nodded. “Good.”
Just then the doors from the ambulance bay burst open and two gurneys were wheeled in. For a moment panic stole her breath, but then a sense of calm came over her, as she took control of the first patient.
“James Turkow is a twenty-five-year-old restrained driver T-boned by another vehicle,” the paramedic announced. “Vitals were stable, and he was alert and oriented on the scene, but during transport became less responsive.”
Probable head injury, Hannah decided. But the bluish tint to his lips was concerning, so she pulled her stethoscope from her pocket and quickly listened to his lungs. Definitely not good. From what she could tell, he wasn’t moving nearly enough air to sustain life.
“Get me the intubation tray,” she ordered, pulling the oxygen mask and ambu-bag off the regulator on the wall to begin bagging him. With a flick of her wrist she turned the oxygen up to one hundred percent. “This guy needs an airway.”
The nurse quickly pulled out the emergency airway kit, handing over a laryngoscope and blade. “What size tube?”
“Eight.” Hannah quickly pulled on gloves and then took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. While the nurse placed the stylet into the endotracheal tube, she gently inserted the blade into her patient’s mouth and pulled upward—the way she had been taught—to search for his vocal cords.
Except she didn’t see them.
For a moment panic surged, and she frantically glanced around for Richard, the senior resident. Where in the heck was he? Didn’t he know she might need help? But Richard wasn’t readily available, so she tried again, tipping the young man’s head back farther and looking once again, down the back of his throat. Her left hand wielded the laryngoscope and she pulled upward, keeping away from his teeth to avoid damaging them.
“Easy, now, you’re doing fine,” a deep male voice said near her ear. Just knowing she wasn’t alone was enough to calm her frayed nerves. “Pull up just a little more. There, see the cords?”
Amazingly, she did see them. Trying to hold her left hand steady, she used her right hand to thread the ETT down through the patient’s vocal cords.
“Excellent,” the voice murmured. “Now remove the stylet and begin bagging. I’ll take a listen to make sure you’re in the right spot.”
She nodded, taking care to keep the tube firmly in place as she did as he requested. She kept her gaze trained on the patient’s chest, noticing with satisfaction that the chest rose and fell with every breath she gave with the ambu-bag.
“Good job. Looks like the tube is in place.” His low voice was reassuring. Almost mesmerizing. Relief made her knees feel weak, but she stiffened them with an effort. Her job was only partially done. “You’ll need to get a chest X-ray to confirm placement.”
“Will do,” she said, as she handed over the task of securing the tube to the nurse standing beside her. Once she was free to move aside, she glanced up at her rescuer.
And froze, when his glittering green gaze slammed into hers.
The force of the collision made her heart plummet, the room whirled and there was a loud roaring in her ears.
No. It couldn’t be. But it was.
Jake. Her Jake. Her one-night-stand-Jake was here. At Chicago Care.
The flare of shock reflected in his gaze almost made her feel better. At least she wasn’t the only one knocked off balance. But then she noticed the name on his ID badge and the sick feeling in her gut returned.
Great. Just what she needed. Not only was Jake a doctor here at the hospital. He was Dr. Holt. The attending physician on duty. And Chief of Trauma Surgery!
The man she’d impulsively spent the night with was the man who could make or break her career.
CHAPTER TWO
JAKE could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Hannah wearing light blue scrubs and a long white lab coat, her long blonde hair pulled back in some sort of fancy braid. Dr. Stewart. The name on her ID tag mocked him.
Hannah—the girl he’d seen on the sailboat wearing the bright yellow bikini—was an intern? A first-year surgical resident? Here at Chicago Care?
A stab of betrayal hit hard.
She’d known all along exactly who he was.
Hard to believe he was stupid enough to have made the same mistake twice in one lifetime, but he had. Swallowing the lump of bitterness in the back of his throat, he forced himself to keep his attention on the task at hand. There was a seriously injured patient needing their assistance, so this was hardly the time, or the place, to call Hannah out on her behavior.
But she’d certainly played her role well, that’s for sure. He’d taken the bait, falling for the ploy without once considering he’d been set up.
Tearing his gaze away from hers, he glanced down at the patient. “Order a stat chest X-ray to verify this tube placement,” he said to the nurse. “And I also want a full set of labs.”
The nurse headed for the nearest phone.
When he turned back toward Hannah, he noticed she was continuing her trauma assessment as another nurse drew the blood. Clearly, Hannah wasn’t nearly as shocked to see him as he was to recognize her.
“His lung sounds are very diminished on the right side,” Hannah said, pulling the stethoscope from her ears. “And his belly is tense, no bowel