Playboy Surgeon, Top-Notch Dad

by Janice Lynn

  “He’s repeatedly offered, just as he did during Selma’s illness, but I won’t take handouts from the boy. He has better things to spend his money on than a lost cause.” Dr Talbot’s pale blue eyes bored into her, asking a thousand questions Blair didn’t know the answers to, but likely wouldn’t have answered even if she had.

  “You are anything but a lost cause.”

  She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Nor could she allow herself to give in to the sorrow plaguing her soul. Be strong. Be brave.

  “Enough of this depressing subject.” She pasted a smile onto her face. “Tell me about our favorite soap opera. Did Barbara discover that Nathanial is really still alive?”

  Since his illness, Dr Talbot had spent a lot of time watching television simply because he’d been too sick to do anything more. Blair and Reesee had been fans of Dare to Love since they’d watched the show with their mother. Now Dr Talbot kept Blair up-to-date on the show’s happenings. Blair mostly asked because the show gave him something to look forward to each day.

  But her friend’s pale eyes lit as he pinned her beneath his knowing gaze. “Why don’t you tell me about your real-life soap opera instead?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “WHAT real life soap opera?” Blair pretended to have no clue what he referred to. Darn Oz for massaging her neck last night, for saying she was sexy. For so many reasons, darn him. “I lead a dull life.”

  “Dull?” Dr Talbot picked at a loose thread on the white blanket covering his legs. “That’s not how I hear it.”

  Stephanie had told him. Blair sighed. Of course the woman had told Dr Talbot what she’d seen.

  “I’m not sure what you heard, but I assure you my love life is quite dull.”

  “Did I mention your love life?” Dr Talbot’s thin brows lifted.

  She’d walked right into that one.

  “Besides, if your love life is dull, it’s because you choose for it to be.” Dr Talbot’s lips pursed in disapproval. “You should date. If I had my way, you’d be up for auction at my benefit just so you’d get out and meet a nice guy.”

  “A nice guy wouldn’t necessarily bid on my date.” Not at any point had she considered being one of the bachelorettes. She’d be busy enough helping oversee the night’s events without being auctioned. “Besides, I don’t have time for dating. Addy and Reesee are my priorities. Not searching for some elusive Mr Right.”

  They’d had this argument before. Dr Talbot didn’t understand why she refused to date. Then again, he didn’t know how badly she’d hurt after Chris. How betrayed she’d felt when she’d discovered the truth.

  No wonder they’d bonded so intently when she’d come to work at Madison Memorial. Dr Talbot had been grieving for his dying wife and Blair had been grieving for Chris, her mother and so many of her dreams of a happily-ever-after.

  “What about Oz?”

  Oz wasn’t her Mr Right. No way.

  Blair blinked, knowing she didn’t quite pull off as innocent a look as she wished. “What about him?”

  “My cancer may have left me a feeble old man, but I’m not daft,” her friend admonished. “Neither is Stephanie. What’s going on between you and Oz?”

  Hadn’t she dealt with this question this morning at work? Dealing with Kanesha had been much easier than meeting Dr Talbot’s expectant gaze.

  “I’m tolerating Oz’s company until you get well enough to come back to work.”

  Dr Talbot gave her a try again look. “You like him, don’t you?”

  No, she didn’t.

  “I like you and want you to get well so he can go back to whatever cave he crawled out of. He’s a total Neanderthal. I have no clue how the two of you became such good friends.”

  “You’re protesting too much, Blair. He gets to you.” Dr Talbot chuckled. “Selma always said Oz was a killer when it came to the ladies. Why, I remember a whole slew of nurses with broken hearts when he finished his residency with me.”

  “Good for him,” she huffed. A whole slew of broken hearts. No surprise there. Oz was a heartbreaker and would break her heart if she let him. She had no intention of letting him. “But I’m not interested in hearing about Dr Manning’s love life.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oz is arrogant and self-centered. I only tolerate him because he’s your friend and because I work with him. Really,” she added at his curious look.

  “Oz isn’t so bad,” Dr Talbot said, once again surprising her. In the past she’d gotten the distinct impression he’d steered her away from any interest in Oz, that he’d encouraged her avoidance of his former star student.

  “Actually,” he continued, “I’d be hard pressed to name a better man or one I’d trust more. Don’t write Oz off without taking a closer look.”

  Hadn’t Oz said something similar? Accused her of making unfair assumptions about him?

  Addy’s muffled cries had both of their heads turning toward the French windows leading out onto the patio.

  Adrenaline gripped Blair’s heart in a tight fist. She jumped from the sofa. Before she’d crossed the room, Oz burst in, holding Addy close to his chest.

  Blood covered her left leg, her hands, Oz’s hands.

  Tears ran down Addy’s cheeks. Her lower lip trembling, she reached for Blair. “I want—Mommy.”

  She didn’t need to be a nurse to register that her daughter was holding her bleeding knee and fighting sniffles in an effort to be brave.

  Blair took Addy, hugging the little girl’s shaking body.

  “Shh, sweetheart, let Mommy see what happened,” she soothed, trying to visualize from where the blood oozed. “What happened to your knee?”

  “God, I’m sorry, Blair,” Oz apologized, more repentant than she’d ever seen him. “We were playing with Boo-boo. She turned just as he jumped on her, and she fell.”

  Blair repositioned Addy to where she could see the gash. Blood gushed, making it difficult to see exactly how deep the cut was. She wrapped her hand around Addy’s knee, pushing her palm tightly against the bleed, hoping the pressure would slow the blood flow.

  “Get some antiseptic and a clean towel to apply pressure so we can stop the bleeding,” she ordered a pale Oz. He didn’t move, didn’t seem to register that she’d spoken. “Dr Manning—” she spoke louder “—get something for me to clean Addy’s cut with and a pressure bandage. Now.”

  “There’s stuff in my medicine cabinet.” Having tossed his blanket aside, Dr Talbot gripped his walker with both hands and strained to pull himself to his feet.

  With one last glance toward Addy, Oz left the room.

  “Baby girl, are you okay?” Dr Talbot peered toward Addy. He’d managed to stand and was making his way toward them.

  Her lower lip quivering, Addy shook her head. “My leg hurts.”

  “It’s just a cut, but she’s bleeding steadily.” Blair lifted her hand long enough to assess the wound. Not that she could tell much with the blood seeping from beneath her hand. “She’s going to need a few stitches. I’ll call her pediatrician and see if he’ll meet us at his office or if he wants us to go to the emergency room.”

  Both hands tightly fastened to his walker, Dr Talbot shook his head. “No need to take her anywhere. I have sutures in my doctor’s bag.” At Blair’s surprised look, the old man shrugged. “Hearts aren’t the only thing I can sew up.”

  “Okay.” Her friend appeared too weak to stand, much less to sew up her daughter’s injury. But Blair would not be a naysayer. Not when he seemed so determined. She hoped the incident would remind him just how much he had to offer the world still.

  Addy’s sniffles had almost stopped, but her tiny arms clung to Blair.

  Oz came back into the room, his hands full of items and a big fluffy towel. Blair sat down on the sofa, angling her position to where Addy’s hurt leg dangled, giving easier access to the cut.

  “Get some pressure on Addy’s knee.” Dr Talbot tottered back to the sofa, weakness obviously overtaking him. />
  Blair kissed the top of her daughter’s head, her gaze going to Oz.

  His skin had grown sweaty.

  Surely a cocky top-notch heart surgeon wasn’t afraid of a little girl’s bloody knee?

  Oz had never gotten sick during any surgical procedure. Not even during early medical school when some fourth-year residents had tried to gross out the new guy.

  He never broke a sweat while performing the most complex of cardiac surgeries. Not unless it was from the lights.

  But a sheen of sweat covered him.

  That was Addy’s blood.

  Although he knew it was just a cut knee, he’d felt real anguish the moment he’d realized what was going to happen when Boo-boo had bounded toward the little girl. He’d called to the dog, but it had been too late. Boo-boo’s exuberant leap had knocked Addy off her feet. She’d taken a tumble forward, landing on something sharp, probably a rock.

  A vise had locked around his heart as Addy’s face had crumpled and she’d bravely tried to contain her cries. He’d rushed to her and seen the blood oozing from her sliced open knee.

  He glanced down at his bloodstained hands. Similar to Blair, he’d tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure with his bare hands. Not a smart thing to do in this day and age of blood-borne diseases. All he’d been able to think was that he’d let Blair’s daughter get hurt. That Addy was bleeding because he hadn’t watched her closely enough. That somehow he’d failed Addy, hadn’t protected her. That he’d failed Blair.

  That she’d been right to tell him to stay away.

  Oz’s gaze dropped to Addy’s knee. The blood flow had slowed, was forming a clot. But the gash was jagged enough, wide enough that she needed stitches for the area to properly heal. What was he doing standing there?

  He was a heart surgeon. Used to having lives in his hands. This was only a scraped knee. No big deal. What was his problem?

  Straightening his shoulders, he knelt and examined Addy’s knee.

  “Pipsqueak, I need you to hold still.” He kept his voice gentle.

  Blair began to whisper soft words to her daughter. Oz couldn’t make them out, couldn’t tell what she was saying, but her voice sounded musical, calming, even to him.

  Addy remained perfectly still in her whispering mother’s arms. Blair maneuvered her daughter to face Oz, then wrapped her arms around her, pinning Addy’s arms in a hug. With her thighs, she captured Addy’s injured leg to where the girl could squirm but not make any big movements. Soothing with her soft words during the entire maneuver, Blair had effectively stilled her daughter without alarming her.

  “Pipsqueak, love, I’m going to look at your knee. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

  Tossing the towel onto the tiled floor beneath Addy’s knee, he poured antiseptic over the wound, dabbing at the excess to keep as much as possible from spilling onto the towel. He poured more disinfectant over some gauze he’d found in the medicine cabinet. As gently as possible, he cleaned Addy’s wound, wincing at the jagged tear.

  “She needs stitches,” Dr Talbot said from behind him. “I have suture supplies in my doctor’s bag. It’s in my office. Go get my bag, and I’ll sew her up.”

  Pressing the antiseptic-soaked gauze to Addy’s leg, then covering it with a piece of paper tape to maintain pressure, Oz went and found the old-fashioned black medicine bag.

  When he came back, he glanced toward Dr T’s drooping shoulders. Sadly, the effort of standing without assistance had drained the man’s energy.

  “If it’s all the same, I’ll suture her.” Waiting for Dr T’s nod, Oz drew up some Lidocaine and prepared to squirt the numbing agent into the gash. “She’s not allergic to anything?”

  “No.” Blair shook her head.

  “Not a shot.” Addy’s eyes filled with tears again when she saw what Oz held. She squirmed to no avail in Blair’s arms. “I don’t want a shot.”

  This was his fault. If he’d been watching her closer, none of this would have happened. If he’d called the dog away from her sooner, before he’d leaped…

  “This will make your knee stop hurting.” Blair hugged Addy tightly.

  Oz squirted the numbing preparation into the open wound. Then, injecting through the desensitized gash itself, he deadened the area so Addy wouldn’t feel him suture her.

  While waiting for the area to deaden, he prepared the needle-nosed suture holders and ethilon thread.

  His gaze met Blair’s, seeking reassurance that she was ready. She nodded for him to proceed.

  With Addy studying his every move and Dr Talbot giving advice over his shoulder the entire time, Oz stitched Addy’s knee, closing her gaping flesh.

  “Beautiful,” Dr Talbot praised from where he’d watched Oz make every suture.

  “Thank you,” Blair said, hugging Addy close, kissing the top of the little girl’s head every few seconds and whispering comforting words.

  “That’s not beautiful.” Addy’s puffy eyes stared woefully at her knee. “Mommy’s hair is beautiful. Not my boo-boo.”

  “No, Boo-boo is in trouble for doing this to you,” Dr Talbot said gruffly.

  “Boo-boo didn’t hurt me. A rock did.”

  Oz would do anything if he could take away the pain in Addy’s eyes. Tears streaked her cherub face. Although her cut was still numb from the anesthetic, when the sensation returned, she would be sore. Guilt like none he’d ever known blindsided him.

  Blair would never forgive him for allowing Addy to get hurt.

  He couldn’t blame her.

  Words his mother had used to scream at his father echoed through Oz’s head. Words that said Manning men shouldn’t be allowed to father children, shouldn’t be allowed to be responsible for another person’s heart because all they were good for was cheating and lying.

  Like father, like son.

  Oz steeled himself for the pressure in his chest that always followed those memories and wasn’t disappointed in anything other than his own shortcomings.

  The following day, while keeping a watchful eye on the monitoring devices, Blair studied Oz. He manipulated the catheter through their patient’s ascending aorta and into his heart.

  Great concentration shone on his face.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his skin pulling tight over his face.

  Usually so relaxed, Oz’s tension permeated the room. He’d placed three stents in the right bundle branch. Each time he did, the artery collapsed distal to the correction, once again blocking blood flow.

  “Pulse is fifty-two,” Blair said, although from experience she knew Oz was as aware of Buster Anderson’s vital statistics as she was. Oz absorbed everything about his patients.

  “Buster—” Oz addressed the man “—I’m afraid this isn’t working. I’m going to try one more thing, a newer technique, but if it doesn’t work I’m going to have to open you up.”

  The man swallowed. “Then let’s hope it works.”

  Not only did the procedure not work, but the man threw a clot, cutting off blood flow in a vital artery.

  “Double damn,” Oz cursed, starting CPR when the man’s heart stopped.

  Blair called a code, administered epinephrine at Oz’s order.

  With life-saving speed, they had Mr Anderson in the operating room, intubated and hooked up to a heart-lung machine that would oxygenate and circulate his blood, keeping his organs viable while they worked on his heart.

  While Blair cleaned Mr Anderson’s chest with antiseptic solution, another nurse did an instrument check. A nurse anesthetist monitored him from the head of the operating table.

  Oz made the incision into his chest, through his sternum, exposing his heart.

  Oz opened up the blocked artery. The second surgical team removed the bypass vein from Mr Anderson’s leg. Oz used the vein to reroute Mr Anderson’s blood flow while the other team closed the leg wound.

  With clockwork precision Blair performed her job duties, anticipating Oz’s every need prior to his asking.


  They worked well together. They had from the start. Blair was only beginning to realize just how in sync they really were.

  “You were amazing in there,” she praised his efforts much later when they were removing their surgical gear. “Mr Anderson owes his life to your quick actions.”

  Oz raked his fingers through his blond hair, which was flattened from his surgical cap. “Hell, as soon as I saw that blockage, I should have sent him straight to the operating room instead of attempting to stent him.”

  “There was no way for you to know he was going to throw a clot. That he did wasn’t through any fault of yours,” she reminded him. For all his jokes, Oz took his patient care seriously. He thought he should be able to predict every patient’s outcome. No doctor could.

  “Some coincidence that he threw the clot while I was catheterizing him.”

  “Lucky for him,” Blair insisted.

  “Lucky.” Oz paused outside the cardiac operating room, gave a quick smile of appreciation. “Thanks for your help. He owes his life as much to you as he does to me. You were fantastic when he coded.”

  Blair nodded. She hadn’t done anything beyond what any trained nurse would do. Oz had been the miracle worker.

  “What’s next on tap?” he asked, his demeanor returning to normal.

  “Two more arteriograms and a stress test,” she reminded him. “Why don’t you take a few minutes’ break while I get the next patient set up?”

  The next two arteriograms were uneventful.

  Blair hooked monitoring equipment to Ralph Constance’s chest, preparing him for his stress test. Due to the man’s diabetic neuropathy and arthritis in his lower extremities, he was unable to do the stress test on the treadmill. A chemically induced test was being performed instead.

  When they’d finished with the last patient for the day, Blair stepped into the hallway and let out a long sigh. She rubbed the back of her neck, massaging the tension twisting her muscles.

  Why did her neck ache since Oz had massaged her?