The Surgeon's Favorite Nurse (15 page)

When he gently sucked on a spot just behind her ear, her brain turned to mush and she moaned.

“I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered, sliding his arms around her. His deep sigh stirred her hair as he held her against his warm strength.

The feel of him distracted her, but she had to pull herself together. She hugged him hard because it was the last time she would hug him at all. Then she slipped out of his arms and dragged in a breath.

“I have to talk to you, Jake.”

He nodded. “You came to tell me you were wrong and apologize for overreacting when Blair told you about the ring.”

“No, I—”

“Because you kissed me back just now and you wouldn’t have done that if you really believed I was a two-timing jerk.”

“That’s not why I came to see you.”

“I’m grateful for whatever it is that brought you here.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

“How can you say that?” she cried.

“Because it’s true.” That was more question than statement.

The good news was that he’d missed her. The bad news was that he was going to miss her even more. Why was it always good news, bad news?

She folded her arms at her waist. “I just heard that the president of the hospital board removed you as the trauma medical director.”

“Wow.” He didn’t look upset, just bemused. “I don’t know why it still surprises me that information travels at light speed in a hospital.” His sexy, teasing expression disappeared, replaced by grim intensity.

“So, it’s true.”

“Ed Havens likes to throw his weight around. He talks big, but the reality is that I have a verbal contract.”

Hope shook her head. “You’ve worked so hard for this job. Everything you ever wanted fell into place. The staff loves you.”

“What about you?” There was an edge to his voice and his gray eyes turned dark and stormy.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, too, but that would just cloud the issue.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m going to turn in my resignation to Val Davis.”

“That’s crazy. Why would you do that?”

“It’s for the best,” she defended.

“Best for whom?”

“This was always a temporary job for me,” she answered, without really answering at all.

“They offered you a permanent position, but you wouldn’t accept it. Just say the word—”

“No. If I go away, leave Las Vegas, you’ll get the appointment. You can go back to your regularly scheduled life with Blair and everything will be the way it was.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?” he argued. He stepped closer and curved his fingers around her upper arms. “I
had nothing with Blair. There’s no going back with her. I’d rather poke a stick in my eye—”

A high-pitched beep screeched from the pager at the waistband of his scrubs. He looked at the digital display and said, “E.R. Stat.”

“You need to go,” she said.

“Not until we’ve settled this.”

As far as she was concerned, it was settled. She’d fallen in love with him. She wanted what was best for him. That meant leaving Las Vegas even though her heart would break.

She took a step back. “We’ll talk later.”

“No. Now.”

“Someone might need the best surgeon in Las Vegas. Luckily for them, it’s you.” She smiled even though her chest ached and her eyes burned. “Go, Dr. GQ. And take those magic hands with you.”

“Hope, I can’t leave things like this—” The pager squealed again.

“It’s okay. Really. Go take care of your patient.”

He huffed out a breath, then brushed by her and opened the door. “I’m coming back.”

And when he did, she’d be gone.

Her pain wasn’t any less because she’d made the choice. But she felt better that at least this time the loss would mean something. It would give Jake what he wanted.

J
ake had managed to remove the hot appendix before it ruptured. The emergency surgery was textbook-perfect and he expected the teenage patient to make a full recovery. That was the good news. The bad was having to leave Hope before he could say what was in his heart.

He was completely in love with her. He was certain of it.

No way would he let her leave Las Vegas. Ed Havens was abusing his position. Jake would contact his attorney and figure out how to stop the congressman, but he wouldn’t roll over and let the jerk get away with using his power for personal reasons.

At the nurses’ station outside the recovery room, he jotted some notes in the patient’s chart. He had standing orders for pain medication and the staff would follow protocols. The kid was in good hands. If there were complications, which he didn’t expect, they could page him.

Mary Pat McConnell, recovery room supervisor, sat in the chair behind the desk. She was wearing a green disposable gown over her scrubs. “Your patient is waking up, Doctor.”

“Good. Dr. Wallace has a really good touch with the anesthesia. Not too heavy, not too light.”

“Always just right.” The fiftysomething nurse smiled. “Just like Goldilocks.”

“I guess.”

“She looks like Goldilocks, too. Dr. Wallace does,” she added. “The blond hair, I mean.”

Jake met her gaze. “I wouldn’t know. When I see her, she’s always wearing a scrub cap.”

“She’s new. We should get together any of the staff who can make it and have a bonding drink with her at the sports bar across the street.”

He’d known Mary Pat for a couple of years and considered her a friend as well as a colleague. This wasn’t the first time she’d tried to be his matchmaker. “Don’t try to fix me up.”

The expression in her brown eyes oozed innocence. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I’m off the market.”

“But I thought you broke up with Blair Havens. Don’t tell me she soured you on love forever.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s all over the hospital that her father is ticked off because you dumped her and he’s throwing his weight around. You’re made of sterner stuff than that. Please tell me that you didn’t knuckle to the pressure.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’re not back together?”

“Okay I won’t tell you that,” he clarified.

“Exasperating man.” She pushed her wire-rimmed
glasses more securely on her nose. All the better to glare at him.

“Why shouldn’t I take her back?”

“So many reasons, so little time. Number one, she’d just make you miserable. Number two, we just wouldn’t respect you in the morning. You’re not that spineless.”

“True.” He grinned. “We’re not back together.”

“Thank you, God,” she breathed. “So you are available.”

“I didn’t say that.” This was just her way of getting information out of him and he wasn’t going there. Hope would be the first to know and after that the news would spread like the flu virus on crack. “So what
are
you saying?” she prodded.

He pointed a finger at her. “Stop trying to fix me up.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted smartly.

“Wise guy. I’m leaving now.”

“Bye, Doc. Have a good night.”

From her mouth to God’s ear. With luck Hope would still be in her office. It was time to finish the conversation they’d started earlier. If she still wanted to leave, that would be her choice, but he’d go with her. No way was he letting her walk out on him, give up without a fight. He’d convince her that they belonged together, even if it took him the rest of his life.

Jake left the surgery/recovery wing and walked down the quiet hall, then turned right to take a shortcut through the E.R. This was the quickest route to Hope’s office. He pushed the double doors open and let them close behind him. About five people were in the waiting area, one of them an infant in a carrier.

He walked over to the information desk. “Hi, Sister Irene.”

The Dominican nun was probably in her sixties. “Dr. Andrews. How are you?”

“Good. And you?”

“Fine.” He was in a hurry, but it seemed rude to keep walking. He leaned an elbow on the desk and glanced out the automatic glass doors to the semicircular ambulance bay and the parking lot beyond. “How’s business?”

“Not bad.”

The doors he was watching whispered open and a man came inside. Something about him made the hair on Jake’s neck stand up. He didn’t look sick, wasn’t bleeding or obviously impaired in any way. The guy was fortyish, with dark hair graying at his temples. He was dressed in jeans and a camouflage jacket and there was tension along with desperation in every line of his face. He scanned the waiting area as if trying to figure out how the system worked, which most people did. But most people didn’t pull a pistol out of their pocket on their way to the information desk.

Jake snapped to attention and said in a low voice, “Sister, go call 9-1-1.”

“What?”

“That guy has a gun. Hurry. Through the doors behind me. Find a phone. Call the cops.”

“But—”

“Go. Now,” he ordered.

Fear jumped into her eyes just before she slid off her chair and ducked behind him. The double doors clicked and bumped as she made it through just before the guy looked back in his direction.

The man was big, at least six feet. Anger burned in his blue eyes which is not what Jake expected. But when he stopped in front of the desk and raised the gun, all expectations went out the window. A woman screamed, “He’s got a gun!”

“Don’t move.” The guy waved the weapon at everyone in the waiting area. “It’s real. It’s loaded.”

“Calm down,” Jake said as evenly as he could, what with his heart racing. “You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Frail human flesh had no chance against bullets. Too many times to count Jake had fought to save the lives of violent crime victims and repair the damage guns did. But he’d never personally witnessed someone getting shot. A hospital was the last place he’d ever thought to see it and the whole situation felt surreal.

“I got nothin’ to live for.” The man swung the gun around the room again and one of the women screamed. Others ducked, an automatic reaction. “I got nothin’ left to lose.”

Jake couldn’t say the same. A vision of Hope flashed through his mind. He’d finally found what he wanted and she was more precious than a job or money in the bank. He loved her and hadn’t told her. Saying the words seemed like the most priceless gift in the world. Unlike the gunman, he had everything to lose.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The man’s wild-eyed gaze locked on him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. What’s your name?” he repeated.

“Stevens.”

“Okay, Mr. Stevens. Is there someone I can call for you?”

“I got nobody. My wife left me. Took my kid to Oregon. There’s nothing—”

“Boy or girl?” Jake asked.

“What?”

“Your kid. A boy or girl?”

“What do you care?”

“I’d just like to know.”

If asking questions would keep this guy from pulling the trigger, Jake cared a lot. He’d taken an oath and the first rule was to do no harm. He’d ask questions until hell wouldn’t have it if he could keep someone from harm.

“Boy or girl?” he asked again.

“Girl.”

“What’s her name?”

He wasn’t sure how or why the questions kept coming, but they did. Maybe he could establish a rapport. At least he could keep attention focused on himself and off the other people in the room.

“Alicia.” The name on his lips was almost a groan of pain and bleakness mixed with the anger, frustration and despair in his eyes.

“Why don’t you put the gun down?” Jake said.

“No.”

Couldn’t hurt to ask. More questions. He needed to keep him talking. “How old is she? Your daughter.”

Distract him until the cops got here. It felt like a lifetime since he’d nudged Sister Irene into action and told her to call for help. It felt like he’d been standing here forever. He was ready to turn this situation over to the law enforcement professionals. He saved lives in the operating room, not the OK Corral.

Where were the damn cops?

Jake’s gaze kept jumping to the ambulance bay outside, praying to see flashing red lights. When Stevens didn’t answer, he asked again, “Alicia. How old is she?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve lost her. I got nothin’.” The man’s gun hand was shaking.

Cold fear was like a stone in Jake’s gut. He put up his hands, a gesture intended to calm. “We can talk about things. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

“You don’t know. I’m never going to see her again.”

The words were chilling. Clearly the man was suicidal. The question was whether or not he wanted to take other people with him.

“Stevens—” When the guy looked at him, Jake continued. “Put the gun down. You don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You a doctor?”

“Yes. I can help you,” he said.

“No.” He shook his head, eyes filled with pain. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he brushed it away with the wrist of his gun hand. “I’m just so tired of hurting. I just don’t want to hurt anymore. I have to make it stop—”

Jake racked his brain, trying to think of a way to sidetrack this guy and give the people a chance to get out. Find some cover. This guy was close to snapping, deteriorating right before his eyes.

Just then Jake heard the faint whine of sirens. Stevens glanced over his shoulder, looking more agitated. “Everybody against the wall. Move.”

With hands raised, Jake moved past the gunman and joined the innocent bystanders all huddling together. He stood in front of the infant carrier and saw that the baby was mercifully asleep.

“Get down,” he whispered to the people clustered around him. “On the floor.”

If the guy lost it, they’d be smaller targets that way.

Jake had heard about your life flashing before your eyes when facing death, but not for him. He could only think about Hope. Sister Irene had gone for help and by now the whole hospital would know that the E.R. was under siege by a nut job with a gun. Hope would know that Jake was one of the hostages after she’d urged him to go do his job.

For her it would be like her husband all over again. Whatever happened, Jake couldn’t stand for her to blame
herself for something that was completely out of her control.

Suddenly the E.R. doors whispered open and the cops rushed inside dressed in black—with helmets, bulletproof vests and boots. Their guns were raised.

The first officer inside pointed his weapon and commanded, “Drop the gun.”

Sweating profusely, the desperate man stared them down and lifted his arm with the gun extended toward the police. Almost instantly shots exploded and he fell. The officers advanced quickly and kicked the pistol away from his outstretched hand.

Jake looked at the terrified people around him. “Everyone okay?”

They nodded and he stood. The threat to their lives was over, and there would be lots of time to Monday morning quarterback about how this had gone down. But he was trained to save lives and hurried over to the fallen man. Pressing two fingers to the carotid artery in his neck, he felt the pulse—weak but still there.

“He’s alive. Get the trauma team in here.”

Hope paced the hallway near the recovery room where she knew Jake would come when he was finished with the gunman’s surgery. Word of the E.R. hostage situation and shooting had spread like wildfire through the hospital. News vans and reporters from all the local stations were interviewing everyone except the guy they most wanted. The hero of the hour.

Jake Andrews, M.D.

She’d heard how he kept the man talking, to prevent him from shooting people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hospitals were in the business of making
people better. It was the last place anyone would expect to be gunned down.

She thought of Kevin and felt the last tiny tug on her heart. He’d been a good and decent man she’d loved with all her heart. But now it was time to tuck away the feelings into a warm, safe place. It was time to move on.

And she desperately needed to see Jake. To make sure he was all right.

As if her prayer was answered, a door opened at the end of the hall and there he was. She started toward him but her legs trembled. It was like a bad dream where she needed to move but couldn’t make herself go fast enough. But he met her halfway. She stared at him and her first thought was that he was alive. Her second was that he looked so tired.

Then she burst into tears.

He pulled her into his arms. “Don’t, Hope. Please, don’t cry.”

But she couldn’t seem to stop. She’d stuffed the fear down for hours and it was all coming out now. And there was an awful lot of terror.

“Come on.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her down the hall. She had no idea where they were going and couldn’t find the will to care. Jake was here. He was warm and solid and most important—he was here. That was all that mattered to her.

He took her inside a room and let the door close behind them. They were alone and he held her. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the strong steady beat of his heart while the sobs slowly tapered off.

Finally she lifted her head and brushed the tears away with the palms of her hands. He’d brought her to the
doctor’s break room which seemed an ironic setting for her breakdown.

She blew out a long breath and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He studied her, his gaze intense, assessing. “For the record, I hate it when you cry. Don’t ever do that.”

“Okay. As long as you promise not to ever be held hostage by a gun-wielding wacko again.”

“Deal. So…” He brushed a hand over the back of his neck. “Why did you? Cry, I mean.”

“Because you’re okay.”

“You knew I was.” He looked puzzled. “The cops had everything locked down in minutes. You’d have heard if there were any other casualties.”

She’d seen the yellow crime-scene tape closing off the area. The bullet holes in the wall. The blood still on the floor where the only victim had been before Jake had gotten him into surgery.

“I knew,” she said. “But I needed to see with my own eyes that you weren’t hurt.”