“Thanks,” she said, fitting the key into the front-door lock. “Okay, let’s get Zora stitched up again.” She flicked on the lights. “Hugh, can you grab the cat case and come with me? Shareena, Cornell, make yourselves comfortable.” That was a bit of a stretch, since her waiting area held a mishmash of donated chairs, some of them pretty flimsy. “You can make tea or coffee in the kitchen down the hall, if you’d like.”
“We’re good, Doc,” Cornell said. “We’re grateful you’d come in to take care of Zora in the middle of the night.”
“Of course,” Jessica said. “She’s my patient.”
She headed down the hall, hearing Hugh’s footsteps behind her, along with the cat’s continued vocalizations. She pointed to the door into the surgery room. “If you’d put Zora on the floor in there, I’ll grab us both some scrubs. Meet me in my office.”
Rummaging around in the supply closet, she pulled out her own scrubs and then a set of Diego’s, laughing when Geode shot in through the closet’s open door to blink at her indignantly from a dark corner. Although most of her staff wore their scrubs to work, she kept spares for emergencies like this. She carried them to her office to find Hugh inspecting the photos displayed on the wall.
“You have a lot of grateful patients,” he said as he accepted the folded green scrubs and placed them on her desk. He began to unbutton his shirt. “Tell me what we’ll be doing with Zora,” he said, yanking the shirttails out of his trousers and shrugging out of it.
The sight of all that bare skin flowing over the curves of his muscles made her suck in a breath as the low simmer from their earlier lovemaking flared into full-on flames again. Thank God he pulled the baggy top on before he went to work on his trousers. But how on earth could a man look so good wearing shapeless green cotton?
“Um, what?” she said, remembering he’d asked her a question.
A devilish glint danced in his eyes. “I asked you what I’ll be helping you do with the cat. But you seem distracted.”
“That’s because I wasn’t expecting you to do a striptease in my office.”
He looked taken aback. “Sorry. I’m used to changing costumes in front of a waiting camera crew, so I didn’t even think about it.” The turquoise of his eyes went hot. “However, I’d be delighted if you’d do a striptease.”
She gave him a saucy smile as she headed for the door. “Nope. I’ll change in the scrub-in room and meet you in surgery.”
“Don’t I need to scrub in, too?”
“The scrub-in room is just a sink in a closet. It barely holds one person. You can wash your hands when I’m done.”
All the way down the hallway, she got lost in a vision of Hugh pressed up against her back at the sink in the tiny washroom, his arms around her, the soapy water sliding over their skin as they scrubbed each other’s hands.
Oh dear God, she just kept slipping further and further under his spell.
Hugh came back from washing his hands to find Jessica placing a cloth-wrapped package on a table beside some tubes and a syringe, her movements practiced and efficient. Her hair was tucked under a surgical cap, a face mask dangled from her neck, and she wore bright purple scrubs. She looked every inch the brilliant, compassionate doctor, and he felt an odd surge of pride, as though he had some claim on her success.
“You never told me what we’ll be doing with Zora,” he said when the cat yowled in protest at her continued confinement.
“First, I’ll sedate her. Then you’ll help me intubate her for the anesthesia.” She pointed to the package on the table. “You’ll open the surgical pack exactly the way I tell you, so it remains sterile. Then I’ll do whatever is necessary to close up her incision again. You’ll turn off the anesthesia and she’ll wake up good as new.” Her smile turned crooked. “At least, that’s what happens in a perfect world.”
“You mean something could go wrong with this?” Such was his faith in his ex-fiancée’s skill that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of a problem.
“Zora’s a young, healthy cat, and she was fine with the anesthesia yesterday, but there’s always a risk with any kind of surgery.” Jessica shrugged. “The risk is just far greater if you don’t do it.”
“A balancing act,” Hugh said, knowing her shrug covered up a profound concern for the cat’s well-being. “You said that about your clinic before.”
“That was more about managing it. When it comes to my patients’ lives, there’s a whole different level of balance.”
He took a deep breath. “What now?”
“Let me show you how to work the anesthesia machine.” She pulled over a rolling contraption with many dangling tubes and a large green tank attached to it. Lifting one of the tubes, she said, “This is what you’ll attach to Zora’s tube.” She pointed to a large silver dial. “This controls the percentage of isoflurane mixed with the oxygen. I want you to set it on two once we hook up Zora’s tube and adjust it if I ask you to. At the end I’ll ask you to turn it to zero to stop the flow of anesthesia but not oxygen.”
Now Hugh was feeling a punch of adrenaline. “Got it.”
“I need you to get Zora out of her case. You can put it up on the counter there. It shouldn’t be hard, since she seems quite eager to exit.”
Zora was now banging her paws against the metal gate at the front of the case. Hugh picked it up and found himself being stared at by a small, black cat with huge green eyes. “She makes a lot of noise for such a little creature,” he said as he set the case down and unlatched the gate. He knew enough to hold the gate closed until he was ready to grab the cat.
However, once she was released from her prison, she calmed down and snuggled into Hugh’s arms. He stroked her glossy fur before turning to bring her to the operating table. “You shouldn’t be so trusting, Zora,” he said before looking at Jessica. “Now I feel guilty about delivering her to you.”
Jessica chuckled. “You have to remember that I’m helping her. Not to mention that she has no idea what’s about to happen to her. That’s the beauty of not having the capacity to anticipate the future. Sometimes I think animals are luckier than humans that way.” Jessica gave Zora a quick scratch under the chin.
Hugh’s guilt about capturing Zora ratcheted up a notch when she began to purr. Then Jessica went into full vet mode, issuing instructions swiftly but allowing him enough time to follow one before she went on to the next.
“Put her down on her stomach. Put one hand on the back of her neck to hold her.” Jessica felt around the top of the cat’s hind leg for a brief moment before she inserted the syringe halfway between her thumb and index finger. Zora barely flinched. “This will relax her enough so she won’t mind the tube.”
Sure enough, he could feel the cat’s muscles soften and go limp under his hands.
“Okay, now is when you earn your pay,” she said with a glinting smile. “Hold her head with your left hand and stick the thumb and forefinger of your right hand behind her canines so you can open her mouth. Stretch her neck a little forward to open up her throat for me.”
Jessica pulled out the cat’s tongue and stuck a long swab down her throat. “This is just lidocaine to suppress her gag reflex.” She picked up a plastic tube, held it against the side of the cat’s head, and adjusted a piece of gauze tied around the tube. Pulling out the cat’s tongue again, she slipped the tube down Zora’s open throat. Hugh felt the urge to gag on Zora’s behalf, but the cat barely twitched.
“Okay, attach the machine and turn on the isoflurane.” She was already tying the gauze around the back of Zora’s head as Hugh fitted the tubes together. He set the dial precisely on the two and turned back to find Jessica doing something with another syringe inserted into a thin tube attached to the larger one. Now that his nerves had settled, his interest was caught, so he asked, “What does that do?”
She removed the syringe. “It inflates the little balloon at the end of the tube, which holds the whole apparatus in place. That way the tube can’t be dislodged
before we want it to be. All right, let’s roll her onto her back so I can see what’s going on.”
If the little cat had been relaxed before, now she seemed almost boneless as he moved her. Her stillness gave him a shiver of unease because it mimicked death so closely. Jessica deftly secured the cat’s legs to the table so she was splayed out, the wound on her belly clearly visible. She gave it a quick scan, nodded, and said, “Okay, you monitor her while I go scrub in and get sterile.”
His fragile confidence evaporated. “Wait, you’re leaving me alone with a wounded cat on anesthesia when I have no idea what I’m doing?”
She chuckled. “I’ll be just down the hall. Yell if anything changes.”
His nerves tightened and buzzed in a way they hadn’t in years. He might have a perfectly functional pair of hands, as he’d pointed out, but he didn’t know how to make sure the cat was all right. He spent what seemed like an hour flicking his eyes between the gauge on the anesthesia machine and the splayed-out cat. Neither one moved.
Jessica came back into the room with her hands gloved and her surgical mask over the bottom of her face. “See, I was only gone five minutes. And Zora survived.”
“Longest five minutes of my life,” Hugh muttered.
Jessica’s gray eyes held a dancing light of amusement above the mask. “Now you’re going to open the surgical pack. We don’t want to break the sterile field, so I need you to follow my directions to the letter.”
It was like choreographing an action scene. He had to fold back each layer of the cloth in a precise order, never allowing his hands to cross the top of the pack, and move to a new position at the side of the table for the next corner. When he was done, Jessica carefully lifted the sterile inner pack onto a steel tray beside the surgical table and opened it, revealing a gleaming array of scalpels, scissors, and needles.
What blood there was from the wound had dried, so Jessica gently wiped it away. Now he could see the torn and bruised edges of the skin with the ripped-out stitches on one side. “What’s that other set of stitches underneath? They seem fine.”
Jessica had begun cutting away the frayed skin at the edge of the wound, which made Hugh a little queasy. “Those are in the subcutaneous fat. There’s another set below them in the internal body wall.” She glanced up to flash him a dry look. “I have to do a lot of sewing in this job. My mother thinks it’s hilarious, since she offered to teach me when I was a kid and I refused. Now I’m going to flush it with some saline solution to clean it.” She picked up a syringe and squirted out the blood and gunk from the wound. “Now turn the iso down to one, please.”
Her running commentary as she worked made Hugh forget about his earlier squeamishness. She handled the cat with a fascinating combination of confidence and gentleness. He couldn’t take his eyes off her gloved hands, even as she began pushing the needle through the cat’s skin. “Could you blot up that blood for me?” she asked as fresh bleeding began to obscure the skin. “There’s gauze on the surgical tray. Just don’t touch anything else.”
He pinched up the gauze and carefully pressed it against the wound, soaking up the blood so Jessica could see where to place the needle next. An emotion he couldn’t name welled up inside him. Maybe they weren’t exactly saving the cat’s life, but they were giving her a chance to heal and be healthy and happy. It seemed so much more real and important than anything he did.
“Since Cornell says Zora’s a high-energy kitty, this time I’m going to set six simple interrupted sutures and tie off each one separately. That way if she pulls one out, the other five should still hold.” She did something to the thread and snipped it off. He could see the neat purple stitch with a small knot on one side.
The next time the blood accumulated, Hugh blotted it up without Jessica having to ask. He fell into the rhythm of the stitching and knotting, anticipating how to help her. When she finished up the last suture, regret rolled through him. He wanted to keep working side by side with her, their bodies touching in a way that had nothing to do with sex but made him feel necessary to her. It reminded him of how a scene could flow when all the actors were in the zone, drawing energy from one another to feed the emotions they were portraying. When was the last time he’d felt that way?
“Roll her over on her side now.” Jessica interrupted his thoughts. “Hit the two-minute button on the microwave.”
“Are we feeding Zora a meal right after her surgery?” he asked, following her instructions.
Jessica chuckled as she spread out a towel beside the cat. “No, we’re warming up a rice bag to make her cozy as she comes out of the anesthesia.”
Hugh helped her shift the limp little body onto the towel. Jessica stood stroking the cat while they waited for the microwave to ding. “Lay it along her back,” she said when Hugh retrieved the toasty fabric cushion. He held the rice bag in place while Jessica wrapped the towel snugly around Zora.
“Okay, take the iso to zero,” Jessica said. “But we’ll keep the oxygen flowing to help her recover.”
Hugh did his job while Jessica untied the gauze bow behind the cat’s head. “As soon as she starts to stir, I’ll deflate the balloon and take the tube out.”
“How long does it take for her to wake up?”
“Somewhere between two and five minutes.”
“I feel like she’ll be mad at me for getting her into this,” Hugh said, watching the still, white bundle with just a small furry head protruding.
“She may be, but she’ll forget quickly, especially if you pet her. Animals tend to be quite forgiving. It’s both a strength and a weakness.”
The cat’s throat moved, and Jessica became a blur of motion as she deflated and removed the tube before Zora became aware enough to be uncomfortable. “Now we just wait for her to wake up fully,” Jessica said, stripping off her gloves and untying her surgical mask to let it hang down around her neck.
Hugh removed his gloves and leaned his hip against the counter, watching Jess while she watched the cat. “Thank you for trusting me to help you,” he said. “That was one of the more fascinating experiences of my life.”
Jessica gave him a startled glance. “It wasn’t rocket science.”
“It was . . . important.”
Her gray eyes went luminous. “That’s a nice thing to say. Not enough people feel that way about spaying a rescue cat.”
“We helped another living being.”
Zora let out a hoarse mew and began to struggle within the towel. Jessica loosened the fabric so the cat could move. She met Hugh’s gaze again. “Now you know why I work long hours.”
“Now I understand why you work long hours.” Guilt raked through him. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it eight years ago.”
“Neither one of us understood what the other wanted,” she said, her voice soft.
It was the wrong place and time, but the need to know overwhelmed him. “Jess, why did you leave me?”
“What?” She jerked her head up to give him an angry glare. “I told you when I gave back the ring, and it was hard enough then.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, hating to admit the truth. “I didn’t hear a word you said after you handed the ring back to me. I was too . . . upset.” Devastated. Angry. Hurt.
Abandoned.
The cat rolled onto her stomach and looked around woozily. Jessica petted Zora’s head. “I need to care for Zora right now,” she said.
“Of course. I shouldn’t have asked.” He straightened. “What can I do to help?”
She continued to stroke the cat. “Nothing. I’ll take it from here.”
He wanted to kick himself for destroying the fragile trust that had been built between them. His attention caught on the detritus on the surgical table and tray. “Let me clean up. Just tell me where to put things.”
Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath. “Thanks,” she said with forced courtesy. “Put the scalpel handles, forceps, and scissors in the sink. The techs will take care of them in
the morning.”
He carried her tools to the sink, setting them down carefully. As he followed her instructions and disposed of the other items in the proper receptacles, Jessica seemed to relax in his presence again. She scooped up the cat in the towel. “I’m going to let the Adamses see that Zora is okay but I’ll keep her here in a cage overnight.”
“I’ll join you and give Cornell an autograph.” He was using every weapon at his disposal to overcome his mistake.
This time her gratitude seemed genuine. “He’ll love that.”
The Adamses were relieved and appreciative that Zora’s surgery was successful. Cornell grinned with delight over the autograph Hugh scrawled on a sheet of paper he found on the front desk.
Hugh locked the door behind them while Jessica carried the cat into the back to settle her in an empty cage. He followed the sound of running water and found Jessica washing up in the tiny scrub-in room. “Go change your clothes,” she said, her gaze on her hands. “Leave the scrubs on the floor in my office.” She gave him a quick upward glance and strained smile. “You did great.”
He’d screwed up royally.
Jessica took her time dressing, partly because she was dog tired but mostly because she wanted to make sure Hugh was fully clothed before she faced him again. He’d reopened all the old emotional wounds, and she didn’t need the physical issue to make the situation more fraught.
Why did he care eight years later what had led her to break the engagement? She had rehearsed her farewell speech over and over again, stomach clenching and tears streaming down her cheeks. Now he admitted that he hadn’t even paid attention to her painfully chosen words? Or did he just not remember?
She yanked the brush through her hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot.
She didn’t owe him any more explanation, and she should just tell him so, rather than excavating all that agony. Yet she couldn’t ignore her new perspective on Hugh—his kindness with his fans, his generosity toward a young actor, his stalwart assistance tonight, even though he’d looked like he might throw up a couple of times. She smiled at that. Not to mention how he made her feel when he touched her. Like he found her the most extraordinary, fascinating lover he’d ever had.
Second Act Page 17