* * *
Minutes after leaving the CICU Michelle knocked on the chief of surgery’s office door.
“Enter,” she heard from the other side of the door.
She didn’t always agree with Dr. Marshall’s decisions or directives but she did think he was fair. He had been a mentor of sorts to her and more than once had gone to bat for her when there had been a problem between her and Administration. For the most part, though, he left her alone to do her job. He was old school but supportive. When he’d gone through medical school it had been almost entirely a man’s profession so a female heart surgeon had made him feel a little uneasy.
She opened the door, stepped in and closed it behind her. The balding doctor leaned back in his chair, interest written on his face.
“To what do I owe this visit? I don’t think you’ve been in my office for some time.”
“Bob, you know I don’t complain much.”
He nodded, his eyes intently watching her.
“But I can’t allow the new supply anesthesiologist to work in my OR again.”
Dr. Marshall propped his arms on his desk, concern on his face. “Is the patient okay?”
“The patient is fine. Doing very well really.”
He relaxed. “Then what’s the problem? Smith, I think his name is, came highly recommended. Good CV. Excellent, actually.”
“I cannot have the man showing up late for procedures.”
Bob looked at her incredulously. “Why did he show up late?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No. I didn’t. I just need the people on my team to be on time.”
“If that is the only fault you can find I think you should ask him why. I know you run a tight ship but we are all late sometimes.”
“I’m not.”
Bob released an exaggerated huff. “I know you’re not. It might be good if you were occasionally.” He said the last few words so quietly that she almost missed them. “Michelle, I think you’re overreacting a bit. We’re short an anesthesiologist and I can’t shift everyone around just to suit you. Smith is more than qualified in cardiothoracic surgery. Unless he has or is doing something to harm a patient, you’re just going to have to find a way to work with him.”
“But—”
“Michelle, I know you’re a driven physician. I can appreciate that but I think you can work this out without involving me. Smith is only here for six weeks. Surely you can handle working with him that long.”
His desk phone rang and his hand hovered over the receiver. “Let me know if there’s an issue involving a patient.” He picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”
She’d been dismissed. Opening the door, Michelle stepped out into the hall and closed it behind her.
With no support, she was left no choice but to get along with the new guy. How was she going to manage that? Everything about him rubbed her the wrong way.
* * *
Ty stepped out into the warm, damp May evening, glad to head home or at least to the place he’d call home for the next few weeks. He’d never known a real brick-and-mortar house until he’d been sixteen and had left his mother and father to go and live with his grandparents.
He shoved a hand through his hair and rolled his neck one way and then the other to get the kinks out. It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated but he’d finished introducing himself to the next day’s OR patients before he’d left the hospital.
Hooking his black leather bomber jacket on his index finger, he slung it over his shoulder and started in the direction of his motorcycle. A woman dressed in what he could see was a trim-fitting skirt was walking some distance ahead.
In the dim light he couldn’t make out the color of her hair or clothes but as a red-blooded man he couldn’t help but notice the provocative sway of her hips as she walked in and out of the shadows. She moved as if she was a model strutting on a runway in Paris. It was a sexy stride if he’d ever seen one. He wouldn’t mind making the woman’s acquaintance while he was here. Maybe she worked in one of the business departments in the hospital. He’d have to make a few inquiries in the morning.
With a feeling of disappointment he watched her step between two parked cars, leaving only her head visible. A minute later Ty approached the back of what must be her car. She glanced at him. The male anticipation he’d developed and fostered while watching her walk suddenly received an icy shower.
“Dr. Ross!” He couldn’t have contained his astonishment if he’d tried. That amazingly hot strut belonged to the ice queen.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. The key fob she held fell to the ground.
“Dr. Smith. Are you looking for me?” Her voice sounded a little high.
He’d certainly been looking at her, admiring her even.
She kneeled gracefully to retrieve her keys. “Is something wrong with our patient?”
“As far as I know, the patient is fine.”
“Then why are you here?”
“This is a public parking lot. My bike is just over there.” He pointed past her.
She glanced over her shoulder in the direction he indicated. “You ride a motorcycle?” Her voice was both shocked and accusatory. “They’re so dangerous.”
“Ever been on one?”
“No!”
“Try it. You might like it.”
He looked down at her trim ankles balanced on spiky high heels. “Of course, that outfit might draw attention if you did. You’d show so much thigh that you might be stopped for being a traffic hazard.” He chuckled.
His grin grew when her head dipped in what could only be described as embarrassment. Unless he was mistaken, her cheeks were the same rosy pink he remembered her shoes as being. Something about her reaction made him believe that she wasn’t used to receiving compliments from men. That barbed-wire attitude of hers probably kept her from getting many. She was certainly attractive enough to receive them.
“I have no interest in being a traffic hazard.” She opened the door of the car, slid in and slammed the door between them.
She might not want to be one but the woman certainly had everything required.
Ty moved on through the lot. It was necessary for her to pass him to leave. As she drove by her gaze found his and held for a second of awareness before she sped up and was gone.
Yes, the next few weeks would unquestionably be interesting.
* * *
Michelle pulled into the drive of her mother’s simple red-brick suburban home. It was located in a neighborhood where all the houses along the street looked similar. The curtains of the living-room window fluttered and her mother’s face appeared. Getting out of the car, Michelle opened the back passenger door and removed two plastic bags of groceries.
She headed for the front door. Seconds before she reached it the door opened. “Mom, you didn’t need to get up. I could have let myself in.”
Her tall but frail-looking mother, with a dusting of gray in her hair, smiled. “I know, dear, but you have your hands full.”
“And the doctor said to take it easy for a while.”
“I have been. You worry too much. What do doctors know anyway?” Her smile grew.
Michelle returned her grin. It was a running joke between them. Her mother was very proud of Michelle and told her so often. As the only parent Michelle had left, she worried about her mother, unable to stand the thought of losing her in both body and spirit. Then she would be alone in the world.
“Mom, why don’t you come and sit in the kitchen while I put these groceries away and see about getting us some supper?”
“I’d like that. You can tell me about your day. You work too hard, you know. Doing surgery all day and then coming here to see about me.”
That was also a continuing argument between them. One that neither one of them seemed to ever win.
Her mother followed Michelle along the familiar hallway to the small but cozy kitchen. This was Mi
chelle’s favorite room in the house. It was where she remembered her father best. Even years after his death she and her mother still didn’t sit in what was considered “his chair”.
As Michelle prepared the simple meal, her mother chatted about the book she was reading and the neighborhood children who had stopped by to sell her cookies. Michelle felt bad that her mother had to spend so much time alone. She’d been such an active woman until the cancer had been discovered. Her recovery was coming along well but Michelle worried that her mother had lost hope. Worse, Michelle feared she might have. She fixed hearts. Cancer wasn’t her department. She had no control here and she was having a difficult time dealing with that fact.
With all those years of medical school and all her surgical skills, she was no more capable of saving her mother than the guy down at the gas station. Cancer had a way of leveling the playing field. No one was more likely to live than another. The only thing anyone really shared was hope. That knowledge not only made her angry but it made her feel desperate.
Michelle placed a plate in front of her mother and another at her own lifelong place. Filling their glasses with iced tea, she set them on the table and took her chair.
“So, how was your day? Anything special happen?” her mother asked, as she poked at the roast chicken in front of her.
Suddenly the broad-shouldered, unorthodox anesthesiologist with the dark unruly hair flashed into her mind. Of all the people to be the highlight of her day.
“No, nothing special. My surgery cases went well, which always makes it a good day.”
“You know you really should go out some.”
Michelle let out an exasperated breath. She changed lives through surgery for the better almost daily and some days saved a life that would soon be lost. Despite that, her mother was still only interested in her dating. No matter how old or successful she became, her mother wanted her to find someone special.
Michelle wasn’t against the idea. The right person just hadn’t come along. She had to admit that it would be nice to have a man in her life. A serious man who could understand her. It would be wonderful to have a marriage like her mom and dad’s had been.
“Michelle, you have no fun in your life. You worked too hard. When you’re not at the hospital you spend your evenings here, visiting me. You need to live a little.”
This had become an almost daily conversation. “Mom, I love spending time with you.”
“Aren’t there any young men working at that hospital you might like?”
The aggravating anesthesiologist’s twinkling eyes popped into her mind. “None that I’d ever be interested in.”
* * *
Ty opened the door to the nondescript furnished apartment. His surroundings didn’t bother him. After years of living in other spaces like it, he was more than used to this type of place. At least there would be a roof over his head, which was more than he could say about his childhood.
Pushing the large brown box with his name on it inside with his foot, he closed the door behind him. A cardboard box had become his suitcase of choice. His guitar should be delivered tomorrow. He’d arranged to have it shipped to the hospital so that someone would be around to sign for it and put it in a safe place. Sometimes he traveled with it on the bike but he didn’t like to. It was one of the few things he’d taken with him when he’d left his parents.
He dropped his helmet on the chair closest to the door and headed for the kitchen. He placed the sack holding the package of gourmet coffee on the counter then looked for the coffeemaker. Great. The machine was a good one. It had been his only request.
Doctors to Go, the service he worked for and was a fifty percent owner of, had seen that he had one. Ty had been working for the company a year when his friend had offered Ty part of the business. Owning nothing but a motorcycle and the clothes on his back, he’d saved his paychecks. There had also been the small amount he’d inherited when his grandfather had died, so he’d had the funds to invest.
His partner ran the show and Ty stayed in the background as a very silent partner. No boardrooms or conference calls for him. One of the ideals that his grandfather had drummed into him early after he moved in with his grandparents had been to plan for the future. Something his parents would have never considered. He’d done as his grandfather had suggested, but he loved working with people so he still continued to practice medicine.
He didn’t generally frequent grocery stores when he moved to a new city. Instead, he chose to take most of his meals at the hospital. Otherwise he asked around about local mom-and-pop places that served good down-home cooking. Ty had already been given a few names of places from a couple of the surgery team members. He’d try one of the restaurants on his day off.
Ty prepared and set the coffeemaker to start percolating at five a.m., before he headed for the shower. Stripping off and turning the water on, he stepped under the shower head. Not all the places he’d stayed had had great showers but having one available was more than he’d had growing up. Rain barrels and creeks just didn’t compare to a hot spray with excellent water pressure.
A muffled ring came from the clothes he’d dropped on the floor. He pushed the shower curtain back, picked up his discarded jeans and dug into the pocket for his phone. His partner had texted earlier that he would be calling about an issue with the business.
“Smith here. Let me call you right back. I’m in the shower.”
“Uh, Dr. Smith. It’s Dr. Ross,” came a soft, stilted voice.
“Who?”
“Dr. Ross.” Emphasis and impatience surrounded the enunciation of the name.
“Oh, Michelle. I thought you were someone else.”
“Obviously.”
He could just see her nose turning up as she said the word. The woman was far too stuffy. “How can I help you, Michelle?” He did like the sound of her name. It suited her.
“Our case has been moved up to first thing in the morning.”
He held the phone with two fingers to keep water from running over it. “I thought that the anesthesia department clerk made these calls.”
“Normally she does, but I was called and couldn’t get her, so I’m calling.”
If nothing else, she was thorough. He couldn’t fault that. It no doubt made her a good doctor. “How did you get my number?”
“I make it a point to have the numbers of everyone on my team.”
“I see.” He let the words drag out for emphasis. “You have it for no other reason?”
“No. There is no other. I’ll see you at seven sharp.”
He chuckled at her haughty tone. It sounded as if she were saying the words through a clenched jaw. He couldn’t help taunting her. She seemed like the kind of person who always rose to the bait. If only he could see her face.
“I’ll be there. Now, if you don’t mind I’ll finish my shower.”
“Oh. Uh…sure. Bye.”
So the frosty woman could be rattled. Stepping back into the shower, he thought he might have to do that more often. But what had him giving the stiff, buttoned-up woman even a second thought? She certainly wasn’t his type. Everything about her screamed of stability.
He’d been accused on more than one occasion of being the love-them-and-leave-them type. No woman got promises or commitments from him. That way he didn’t hurt them. Others could plant roots but they weren’t for him.
There had been a couple of women he’d dated who had made noises about him settling down. When that had happened it hadn’t taken him long until he’d been on his way to the next hospital in the next town. He wasn’t the type of person someone should depend on. When the going got tough he’d only let them down.
He liked women who enjoyed life, laughed, had fun and that was all they were interested in from the relationship. Michelle seemed far too serious about everything. She didn’t strike him as a short but enjoyable affair type of woman, even if he had been interested in having one with her. Which he wasn’t.
Enough about h
er. He needed some rest, especially if he was going to have to face her early in the morning and be on his best behavior. Which he wasn’t sure he could do.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Snatching a towel off the rack, he dried off. Thank goodness he’d requested maid service to start yesterday. Minutes later, naked, he slipped between cool sheets.
Dr. Ross’s strut across the parking lot came to mind. His weeks in Raleigh might be far more fascinating than he’d anticipated.
CHAPTER TWO
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Michelle tapped lightly on the door of her first case for the day.
Shawn Russell. Twenty years old. His procedure would be difficult. As a congenital heart patient he’d grown up in the hospital system and would never really leave it. Shawn was quite unhappy with the prospect of having surgery again. This time he needed to have the heart valve he’d outgrown replaced. Not a demanding surgery in most patients but in those with multiple surgeries the development of scar tissue added a degree of difficulty.
At the sound of “Come in”, Michelle pushed the door open further. The room was filled with people, undoubtedly family and friends. Dr. Smith stood beside Shawn’s bed with his back to her. Having only known him a day, she still recognized his dark hair and broad back.
He glanced around. “Good morning, Dr. Ross. We were just talking about you,” he said with a grin.
Michelle raised an uncertain brow. Never a fan of people discussing her, she wasn’t sure she was happy with what Dr. Smith might have been saying.
More than once she’d heard the whispers after she’d gone by the nurses’ desk. But instead of those negative thoughts his grin brought back memories of their conversation the evening before when he’d announced unabashedly that he was in the shower. He’d been trying to get a reaction out of her. She planned to see he didn’t get one.
“I was checking on Shawn to see if he had any questions for me before he goes into the OR,” Dr. Smith offered.
She nodded. “Good.”
Dr. Smith pushed his dark hair back away from his face. There was nothing conservative about its length or cut. Worn long and being wavy and thick, it curled behind his ears. It was the kind of hair that women envied. He certainly didn’t meet what she considered the standard dress code.
The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart Page 2