‘Good work.’ Eamon’s voice sounded from just behind her. ‘I’ll bag him.’
‘OK.’ Erin forced herself to remain focused on the patient, even though her own airway felt as if it was obstructed. Why was he here? He wasn’t on night duty according to the roster pinned to the cork-board in the office.
The second nurse had already adjusted the leg splint and re-bandaged the fracture site. ‘The bleeding seems under better control,’ she said. ‘His BP has come up to ninety systolic.’
‘You’d better check his chest, Dr Taylor,’ Eamon said. ‘He feels hard to ventilate.’
Erin listened to the patient’s chest. There was good air-entry on the left but none on the right, which was hyper-resonant to percussion. There was bony crepitus all over the right chest. ‘I’ll check his trachea before you put the collar back on, Tom,’ she said to the registrar. ‘His neck veins are elevated. He’s got a right tension pneumothorax. Michelle, get me a couple of fourteen-gauge cannulas.’
‘If you want to switch places I can do that right tension,’ Eamon said.
For a split second Erin wondered if he wasn’t confident she was up to the task. Had he somehow guessed how stressed she felt? She thought she had masked her feelings well. Her emotions were on lock-down; she couldn’t afford to think about this young man’s parents or family waiting outside. She couldn’t bear to think about facing them if he didn’t make it. She had done it many times; she had walked the seemingly endless corridor time and time again, facing human devastation at its worst. Raw emotion; people gutted by the dreadful pain of loss. She had never got used to it; she wondered if she ever would.
‘Dr Taylor?’
Erin met his gaze with gritty determination. ‘It’s fine,’ she said in a clipped tone. ‘I’ve done heaps of these.’
She proceeded to do a right-needle thoracocentesis in the second intercostal space. There was a distinctive hissing sound as the trapped air was released.
‘That’s it,’ Eamon said. ‘His ventilation’s improved markedly. What’s his pulse and BP?’
‘Pulse one hundred, BP one hundred. I’ve got pulse oximetry on. Sats are ninety percent,’ the nurse said.
‘OK, we’ve got airway and breathing sorted for the moment. I’ll take blood for path and cross-match, and we’ll start a couple of units of O-negative. Dr Chapman, can you do GCS? Michelle, get these clothes off for full exposure, then set up for catheterisation and an NG tube,’ Erin instructed, remaining in control of the resus.
After completing the secondary survey, Erin spoke to the general, orthopaedic and neurosurgical registrars, organised a head-to-toe CT scan once she was sure the hypovolaemia was managed and stable, and then formally handed the patient over to the general surgical team for definitive management.
Erin stripped off her gloves and bloody gown and placed them in the bin. She felt a wave of exhaustion swamp her as she washed her hands at the sink. Every bone ached with tiredness and strain. She was running on empty, and she still had six hours left on her shift. It was a depressing thought that this was night one of five. What had she been thinking?
‘Dr Taylor.’ Eamon put down the patient’s notes he was flipping through at the doctors’ station when Erin came back from the bathroom. ‘Can I have a quick word?’
Her brown eyes flickered with something. ‘I still have patients waiting,’ she said, shifting her gaze slightly.
‘I just checked, and you’re due for a half-hour break,’ he said. ‘Besides, Tom’s a good registrar. He’s quite capable of holding the fort for a few minutes. There’s nothing urgent in there. I’ve already checked with the triage nurse.’
A second or two passed in silence.
‘All right,’ she said, still with that off-centre, guarded look.
He led the way to his office, aware of her stiff carriage—such a change from last night when she had been like a warm kitten in his arms, until she had slammed the door in his face after he’d pressed too many of her buttons. He hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about her, for wanting her. His body had throbbed for hours with the memory of holding her against him. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been more turned on. Although it had been a while since he’d been intimate with anyone, he was a normal, red-blooded male in the prime of his life. He enjoyed the physicality of sex; he had never sought more than that with previous partners, but something about Erin Taylor made him want more. He hadn’t worked out if it was because she was more of a challenge than most, or whether it was something more elemental. All he knew was he wanted to taste that soft mouth again, to feel her in his arms responding the way she had the night before.
He closed the door once they were both inside his office. Erin was standing with her arms folded across her body as if it was cold. ‘I should apologise for last night,’ he said. ‘Things didn’t exactly go according to plan.’
Her eyes hardened like brittle toffee. ‘No, obviously not.’
Eamon closed the distance until he was standing just in front of her, not touching, but close enough to smell her light, feminine fragrance. ‘What’s going on?’
Her chin came up. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’
A frown pulled at his brow. ‘You seem a little uptight. I’ve apologised for last night, but for most of the evening I thought we were getting on just fine. I even considered that we might start seeing each other a little more regularly, or at least that was the impression I got from you until you stormed out.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘Sorry. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘What changed your mind?’
Her eyes glittered with sparks of anger. ‘A case of beer has changed my mind.’
His frown deepened. ‘What?’
She rolled her eyes in disdain. ‘Oh, come on, Dr Chapman, surely you don’t need me to spell it out for you? I know about the bet.’
Eamon felt like scratching his head. Had he missed something somewhere? ‘A bet? What bet? What are you talking about?’
She put her hands on her slim hips, in a pose that reminded him of his mother telling him in no uncertain terms what would happen if he didn’t do his homework when he was about ten. ‘The residents and registrars,’ she said tightly. ‘Apparently you are supplying the prize.’
Eamon raked his hand through his hair. ‘Who told you that?’ he asked.
Her eyes glittered with lightning flashes of anger. ‘It doesn’t matter who told me. Is it true?’
‘Of course it’s not true,’ he said. ‘I don’t know anything about a bet. What’s it about?’
She was still glaring at him. ‘The bet on how long it would take you to get me to agree to your plans for the department. That’s what last night was all about, wasn’t it? The softening-up approach: a little flirtatious dinner by candlelight, a kiss or two to make me let my guard down. And then, hey presto, the one-and-only offsider finally capitulates and you punch your fist in the air in victory.’ She stabbed a fingertip on his sternum. ‘What a pity it didn’t work, Dr Chapman.’
Eamon snagged her hand before she could pull away. ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ he said. ‘I don’t know anything about this.’
Her expression was livid as she tugged against his hold. ‘Michelle Oliver told me all about it. And, let me tell you, if she knows then everyone knows. She also knew I was at your flat last night. How on earth would she know that unless you told her or someone else on staff?’
Eamon let out a long, low sigh as he let her hand go. ‘I think I know how she might have found out about that.’
She cocked her brows expectantly, her hands on her hips in a combative pose. ‘Well?’
He shoved his hand through his hair once more. ‘I ran into Sherrie Mason earlier today—you know, the nurse I introduced to you when we were having coffee the other day?’
‘Your ex-but-still-best-friends girlfriend?’ she said with a sarcastic edge to her voice.
Eamon flattened his mouth. ‘Sherrie goes to the same gym as Steph. Steph o
bviously said something, as Sherrie asked me this morning how my dinner-date with you went.’
She glowered at him. ‘What did you say? That you got to work on me with a few kisses before I saw through your seduction plan and left?’
‘Look, I realise this is exactly what you wanted to avoid—and me too, if it comes to that,’ he said. ‘I don’t like people speculating on my private life, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.’
She flashed him another fiery glare. ‘If you don’t call off that stupid bet, I will resign without notice.’
Eamon took a moment to compose himself. The department was short-staffed as it was. Erin was one of the best A&E doctors he had seen. Her competence dealing with the motorcycle-accident victim showed just how valuable a part of the team she was. She was clear and concise in her directions, and she had handled the drama with enviable calm. The last thing he wanted was for her to storm out during his first week on the job, and not just for professional reasons.
‘I’ll have a word with the residents and registrars,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it’s just one of those things that got blown out to be more than it was. It was probably an offhand comment that got misconstrued.’
Her expression remained sceptical. ‘Then it had better be sorted out, and quickly. I don’t appreciate being the butt of puerile jokes amongst the junior staff.’
‘Perhaps if you hadn’t been so against working within the new guidelines none of this would have happened,’ he said.
Her eyes widened in affront. ‘So it’s my fault, is it?’
‘Don’t put words in my mouth, Erin.’
She dropped her hands from her hips. ‘I need to get back to the department. It’s been a long shift.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Eamon said on a weary sigh. ‘I’ve been here since seven-thirty this morning.’
Her expression softened a fraction. ‘Why have you stayed back so long?’
He pointed to the pile of paperwork on his desk. ‘I’m going through some patient records,’ he said. ‘It’s tedious, but it needs to be done. I need to cross-check some information from the wards.’
Her eyes flicked to the papers on his desk before they came back to his. ‘Is there something wrong with the records?’ she asked.
‘Not as far as I can tell, but then I’m nowhere near finished,’ Eamon said. ‘It’ll take me another couple of days to get through that lot.’
She opened her mouth but then pressed her lips together, as if she’d been about to say something but had changed her mind.
‘Erin, about last night…’ he began.
‘I’d rather not talk about it.’
‘We need to talk about it.’
She averted her gaze. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. We had dinner. We kissed. End of—’
‘Don’t say it.’
Her eyes flicked back to his. ‘Don’t say what?’
‘End of story,’ he said. ‘That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? You like those short, sharp, to-the-point statements, but that’s not really who you are, is it, Erin? Underneath that frosty façade you put up is a very warm and very sensual young woman.’
She pursed her lips like an old-time schoolmistress, shifting them from side to side for a beat or two, but even so he could see the way her cheeks bloomed with colour. ‘I should get back to finish my shift,’ she mumbled.
She made a move towards the door but Eamon stalled her with a hand on her arm. ‘Wait, Erin,’ he said. ‘There’s something I want to do.’
He brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips against her stiff fingers, all the time holding her eyes with his. He felt the tension slowly ease out of her hand, her fingers finally relaxing against the curl of his.
Her eyes dipped to his mouth, hovering there for an infinitesimal moment, before coming back to his. He watched as the tip of her tongue came out in a sweeping motion, leaving a fine sheen of glistening moisture over her lips. He felt a punch-like jolt of desire deep in his groin, his blood leaping in his veins as he imagined her soft mouth pleasuring him, her tongue tasting him, stroking his length, curling around him tantalisingly before she gave him the ultimate sensual delight.
He suppressed a shiver as he brought his head down, and her soft gasp filled his mouth as it covered hers. Her lips were soft and malleable, eager to give and to receive. Her tongue met his as soon as he went in search of it, dancing around him shyly at first, and then with greater boldness. His blood hummed through his body, thickening him as he pressed against her. She melted against him, her arms snaking around his neck, her fingers tangling in the back of his hair, making him groan as he deepened the kiss.
He had never felt so totally bewitched by a woman. She was such an enigma—uptight and prickly one minute, soft and yielding to him the next. He felt as if he could never have enough of her. She tasted so sweet and yet so sexy, a heady combination that made his head spin with erotic possibilities. He wanted her so badly his body ached with it. The surging heat of his blood was like rocket fuel in his veins.
He turned her in one movement, pushing her back against his desk, his mouth going to the scented, smooth, velvet skin of her neck, his tongue tasting her before he nipped at her with his teeth in a playful little tug that evoked a whimper of pleasure from her. His hands went to her hips, holding her to his heat, relishing the feel of her so close. He brought his mouth back to hers, savouring its feminine allure, relishing in the way she responded to him so feverishly.
Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, tugging on it before sweeping over it with the soft, moist salving glide of her tongue. He wanted to feel her skin, the silky smoothness of her breasts, the tightly budded nipples he could already feel digging into his chest. His hands went to shape her, the soft whimper of pleasure she gave thrilling him as he searched for the buttons on her shirt.
There was a knock on the door, jolting both of them upright. Eamon met Erin’s wide-eyed gaze before he called out in a voice that was distinctly gravelly, ‘Just a minute.’
Erin fumbled with her clothing, her breathing so ragged she felt as if she had just run a marathon with lead weights strapped on her legs. Her heart was beating madly, her mind was scrambled and her insides were quivering with unmet needs.
‘Sit down and look relaxed,’ Eamon instructed as he went to the door.
Erin mentally rolled her eyes. Relaxed? Who was he kidding? She had never felt more on edge in her life. Her nerves were jumping like live wires and her flesh was tingling from where he had touched her.
She sat on the chair opposite his desk and picked up a patient’s file, pretending to read it while Eamon spoke with the staff member at the door over a matter to do with a patient in Intensive Care. She listened with one ear, but then her eye was drawn to the patient’s name on the document in her hands: Mrs Melina Pappas. Her heart gave a little stumbling movement in her chest as her gaze went further down the page to a section where someone had circled her signature in yellow highlighter and placed a question mark right next to it…
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘SORRY about that,’ Eamon said, coming back to the desk. His eyes went to the document in Erin’s hands, the tension in the room suddenly palpable.
‘Why is my signature circled?’ Erin asked, rising to her feet. ‘What’s going on?’
He met her flinty look without wavering. ‘Nothing’s going on. I am merely checking the records, as I said.’
Erin felt her heart pick up its pace. ‘That’s Mrs Pappas’s file.’
‘Yes, I know. I wanted to make sure Arthur Gourlay’s accusation was dealt with quickly,’ he said. ‘I can find nothing in the notes to suggest anything untoward. That is your signature, I’ve already checked it.’
Erin compressed her lips, the lingering doubts circling in her head like a flock of pigeons looking for somewhere to perch. It made her feel uneasy to have uncertainty of any sort hanging over her. The thought of Eamon checking through the notes, studying her signature and every other detail to do
with the patients she had treated, made her feel very ill at ease. What if there was a mistake? What if she had missed something? It was certainly possible. No one was perfect. No one could be one-hundred-percent focused all the time, especially in a place like A&E, where there were so many distractions as critically ill patients were ferried in and out. And then of course there was the trainee staff she had to keep an eye on, residents and interns, and even registrars at times didn’t always follow directions. They were not the ones who had to take responsibility for any mistakes, however; it was the doctor who was ultimately in charge who had to step up to the plate.
‘Maybe the patient just needed more than the standard dose of pain-relief,’ Eamon said. ‘She had a gangrenous bowel obstruction, after all, a painful condition.’
‘Yes…’ Her eyes fell away from his.
He took the file and placed it with the rest of folders on his desk. ‘I’ve taken up enough of your break. You haven’t even had a cup of tea.’
Erin met his eyes briefly. ‘I don’t want you to think that I’m the sort of person who does this…’ she grimaced as she hunted for the right word ‘…you know, fraternises with colleagues during work time.’
He smiled as he sat on the edge of his desk, his arms loosely folded over his broad chest. ‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.’
She chewed at her lip, her hand fidgeting with her ID badge. ‘I feel embarrassed about what just happened.’
‘The kiss thing?’ he asked.
She nodded, her throat feeling tight as she swallowed. ‘That and the bet thing. I’m sorry for shooting first before asking questions.’
He unfolded his arms and pushed himself off the desk, coming to stand in front of her again. He brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles in a feather-light caress. ‘Forget about it, Erin,’ he said. ‘I would have jumped to the same conclusion, especially given what you’d been told. But I can assure you I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I admit I want you to commit to my plans for the department, but no doubt you have your reasons for not wanting the change. My job is to find out what they are and help you overcome your doubts.’
Emergency Doctor and Cinderella Page 8