The Surgeon's Favorite Nurse

by Teresa Southwick

  “Let her know that you’re interested in someone else,” Sam suggested.

  “Even if I’m not?”

  “Oh, please.” Her gaze narrowed. “Didn’t we just establish that I’m a mind reader?”

  “I was humoring you.”

  She didn’t look humored. “Then tell me you’re not oozing testosterone for that beautiful honey-blonde honey who just walked into your family room.”

  “Media room.”

  “Whatever,” she said dismissively. “You like her, Jake.”

  “What is this? Junior high?”

  Sam ignored his attempts to deflect her. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “She’s popular with the staff. Seems down-to-earth. And that mouth…” She arched an eyebrow as she asked, “Collagen injections?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You seriously expect me to believe you haven’t kissed her?”

  He’d done more than that, none of which was anything he cared to share. But darned if he could maintain an innocent expression under Sam’s relentless cross-examination. Mind reading wasn’t for real, but this woman had skills that were all about not missing details.

  “That’s Hope Carmichael, the nurse coordinator for Mercy Medical West.”

  As he talked, Jake watched the lady in question move from group to group in the other room. She said hello, listened, chatted and laughed, then moved on. She hadn’t grabbed a drink or food and only once looked in his direction. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out why she was here. This appearance was nothing more than being politically correct.

  When he saw Hope move to a group clustered closer to the entryway and escape, he looked at Sam and said, “I have to—”

  “Go talk to Hope before she gets away,” Sam guessed.

  He didn’t bother to deny her speculation. Grinning, he said, “You’re good.”

  “I know.”

  Jake wished he could get a glimpse into Hope’s mind. He met Sam’s amused gaze, then grabbed her hand. “You and Hope should meet.”

  The two of them caught up with her just as she said goodbye to a group of nurses and RT staff before heading to the front door.

  “Hope?”

  She turned and didn’t look happy, then noticed Sam. “Hi, Jake.”

  “I’m glad you could make it. This is Sam. Samantha Tenney meet Hope Carmichael.”

  “Dr. Tenney’s wife?” she guessed.

  “Yes,” Sam confirmed. “But don’t believe any bad hospital gossip you may have heard about me.”

  Hope smiled with genuine warmth. “I’ve only heard good things. But since it all came from your husband—”

  “Really?” With gooey, goo-goo eyes she glanced over her shoulder and met Mitch’s gaze, then wiggled her fingers. Her husband’s responding grin said he was ready to get her home.

  “He credits you for bringing out his sensitive side,” Hope said.

  “Sam’s pretty special,” Jake agreed. “She can read minds, too. Tell me what Hope is thinking.”

  He looked from one woman to the other. Both were beautiful and brainy. Sam was a golden blonde and Hope had the soft shades of honey running through her hair. What combination of qualities made it impossible for him to stop thinking about her?

  Thoughtfully Sam tapped her lip as she studied the other woman. “Hope is thinking that she works too hard and getting Mercy Medical West open is sucking the life out of her.”

  Jake had been hoping for something along the lines of she’d been thinking about him and changing her mind about dinner.

  Hope smiled. “You are a mind reader.”

  “Also,” Sam added, “you did your duty here and would like to go home and put your feet up.”

  Again not what Jake was looking for. “Hope doesn’t have a home. She’s got a room at the Residence Inn.”

  “That sounded disapproving.” Sam’s gaze narrowed on him. “All of a sudden I feel used. Like an interpreter. A go-between. Jake, my advice is to just tell her you like her. Be honest. Direct. Girls like that from a guy. It’s refreshing.” Impulsively, she hugged Hope. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.”

  Sam stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then moved away and joined her husband by the food table. After slipping her arm through his, she stood on tiptoe again and whispered something in his ear. When Mitch looked down at her, there was a gleam along with the love in his eyes.

  Jake envied them. When he looked back, Hope was walking away. He caught up to her just as she reached the double door entry. “Leaving so soon?”

  Her shoulders stiffened before she turned. “Like Sam said, I’m tired and I want to go put my feet up.”

  “You could do that here.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’d be happy to rub them for you.”

  “Thanks. But I have to go.”

  “If I hadn’t brought Sam over to meet you, you’d have been gone before even saying hello to me. Why is that?”

  “I didn’t want to disturb you while you were talking to her.”

  Was she jealous? He wanted to believe she might be, but that was a long shot. More likely she was avoiding him.

  “Hope, I understand that you’ve been putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. That’s what this party is all about. A chance to relax, let your hair down.”

  He remembered the last time she’d been here and he’d run his fingers through the silken honey strands. Sex was a whole different level of relaxation, one he’d like to repeat with her.

  “I really can’t stay.”

  “Because of your busy social life?” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

  “No, because tomorrow is the public open house for the new hospital and I’ll be there giving tours of the emergency department. Sam is right. I am tired and want to put my feet up.”

  “Okay.” Jake pulled her into a quiet corner of the living room. “But Sam is right about something else, too. I do like you, Hope. I’d really like to spend time with you. Outside of the hospital.”

  A skeptical expression darkened her hazel eyes. “So you’re actually taking her advice?”

  “I’m told it’s refreshing. Although, I’m basically an honest guy.”

  “Really?” She slid the strap of her purse more securely on her shoulder. “Or are you one of those guys who wants what he can’t have? The kind who loses interest as soon as he gets what he’s after.”

  Jake blew out a long, steadying breath when anger spurted through him. “What is it exactly that you have against me?”

  “Other than Blair Havens?”

  “That situation has been resolved and you know it.”

  “Even so,” she conceded, “it’s just not—”

  “No negatives. Go out with me, Hope. Let me screw up before you judge me. Earn the right to say I told you so.” He met her gaze. “Or not.”

  She shook her head. “Not a good idea.”

  “Why?” Frustration edged into his voice. “Tell me you don’t like me and I’ll walk away. No harm, no foul. But only if that’s how you feel. Guys think honesty is refreshing, too.”

  “I don’t dislike you,” she hedged. “But it would be dishonest to start something I have no intention of finishing.”

  “Define finish.” He folded his arms over his chest.

  “You know.” Fear and pain flitted through her eyes. “Marriage.”

  “I just want to spend some time with you. Get to know you. Who said anything about getting married?” he demanded.

  “No one,” she admitted. “But there’s no point in beginning anything that might go there. Hanging out with you is a waste of time.”

  “It’s my time,” he countered. “But for the sake of argument, why is it a waste?”

  “Because I’ve been married and have no intention of ever doing it again. You’re a bright guy, Jake. The smart thing would be to walk away from me. Running would be even better.”

  She brushed past him and let herself out the front
door. One of them was running, Jake thought, but it wasn’t him. He never had to work this hard for a date and wasn’t sure why he was doing it now. Maybe she was right about him wanting what he couldn’t have. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  He’d never forget being dirt poor and not good enough for a rich girl’s snooty family, so he made himself good enough. Now he could hold his own in any socioeconomic group.

  Hope was right about one thing. A sharp guy would give up on her, but maybe he was more stubborn than smart. He wasn’t walking away without knowing why she was commitment-phobic.

  And nothing kicked up his obstinate streak like rejection.

  Jake liked her. Last night he’d told her so and the words had warmed a trail straight to Hope’s heart.

  It was the best of news.

  And the worst.

  Mostly it was distracting, Hope thought. She couldn’t afford to be distracted while Mercy Medical West was having an open house. The public was invited to tour the soon-to-open facility and she was guiding a group around the emergency department. She’d shown them the MRI room and where heart catheterizations were done. Probably pointing out the surgery table, how it could be lowered and raised to accommodate a taller surgeon had turned her thoughts to Jake.

  In her spartan rented room there were no personal reminders of anyone, including him, and no excuses for thinking about him. Although that didn’t stop her. But it was time to focus.

  She held an arm out, indicating the doorway. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll follow me through here, we’re going to see the trauma bays. Notice how the flow of traffic and ancillary services such as radiology and lab are all located in a compact area to facilitate emergency treatment. After a trauma there’s what we call ‘the golden hour,’ sixty minutes when what we do can mean the difference between life and death. We can’t afford to waste time shuffling equipment or personnel where they’re needed.”

  A murmur of awed agreement hummed through the group as they walked. In the trauma rooms, she pointed out the distinctive features of each bay and what emergency situations could send a patient there.

  “What if the room for a particular trauma is already occupied?” a slim, older blonde woman asked.

  “We can handle all emergencies in any bay,” Hope explained. “But these are set up for functioning in a perfect world. If there was a major disaster, for instance, there are protocols in place to stretch emergency services. All personnel, whether on call or not, are required to report to the hospital. Patients would be triaged so that the most severely injured get attention first. But under normal circumstances, trauma cases are channeled to the bay best suited to deal with it.”

  “I see,” the woman said nodding. “This is quite a beautiful facility.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Right now the lavender walls and color-coordinated countertops were pristine. They wouldn’t stay that way long. When the doors opened, and that would be soon, there would be patients and paperwork and paraphernalia everywhere. Hope was sad that she wouldn’t be here to help navigate the speed bumps, adjustments and growing pains of the new campus. She’d be leaving as soon as her replacement was hired. That would be for the best because Jake Andrews refused to stay out of her head.

  She looked at the six or seven men and women in this tour. “If you haven’t already seen the patient rooms upstairs, I highly recommend that you do. There are volunteers in the lobby to form groups for that. I’ll be leaving you there.”

  Everyone followed her, commenting on the exquisite artwork hanging on the walls and the pleasing color scheme that streamed from one department into the next.

  When they arrived at the information desk in the sunlit lobby, she said, “Outside under the white tent, representatives from medical companies are set up with information about services from health clubs, vision screenings, orthotics and general wellness. And if you’re interested in a cholesterol screening, there are people just around the corner who can help you with that. I hope you enjoyed the presentation.”

  Everyone thanked her and moved away, all except the blond who’d asked about full trauma bays. She was stylish in crisp jeans, a soft powder blue sweater and a tailored jacket. She stood by the desk glancing around.

  “Is there something I can help you find?” Hope asked.

  “I’m just looking for my son.” Her gray eyes scanned the crowd milling around and the people walking through the double doors.

  Because the woman was in her fifties, Hope assumed the son in question wasn’t a toddler who’d wandered off.

  “Were you supposed to meet him somewhere? At a certain time?”

  “No.” The woman continued her search. “He works here and I just figured—”

  “Mom, there you are.”

  The voice came from behind them and Hope knew it instantly. She turned and the lurch of her heart confirmed what she already knew. “Jake.”

  “Hi, sweetheart,” the woman said. “It’s about time you showed up.”

  “I’ve been around.” He grinned, then leaned down to give her a hug. “Where were you?”

  “Pestering this young woman with questions,” she said, glancing at Hope.

  He looked from one to the other. “I see you two have met.”

  “Not really.” Hope was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that this was his mother. She’d never expected to meet the woman who raised him under such difficult circumstances and did quite a remarkable job.

  “Susan Andrews,” he said, “meet Hope Carmichael, Mercy Medical West’s nurse coordinator.”

  His mother held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hope. Jake has told me about you.”

  Hope squeezed her fingers and wondered if he’d shared with his mother any of their rocky history. Probably not the story of their one-night stand in his bedroom. Or the sexy close call up against the wall in her office.

  A gleam stole into the gray eyes so like his mom’s. “I only told her the good stuff.”

  Hope wondered if he could read her mind, because he was definitely messing with her. “Then it was a short conversation.”

  The woman laughed. “Good for you, Hope. Don’t let him push you around.”

  “Mom? Whose side are you on?” he asked, his tone teasing.

  “Hope’s,” she answered emphatically. “Women have to stick together. And you can be incredibly annoying sometimes.”

  “Wow, feel the love. I didn’t know that gender tops DNA in the loyalty department.”

  “We should compare notes,” Hope said, liking his mom immediately. “How is he annoying? Let me count the ways.”

  “For one thing he thinks he’s always right,” the older woman said.

  “I noticed that the first time we met.” The second time he’d kissed her and put everything out of her mind except wanting to be with him. That was pretty annoying.

  “He’s stubborn, too.” Susan Andrews slid a teasing glance up at her son.

  “Hey, I’m right here,” he protested.

  Without acknowledging him, she continued. “When he was little, he used to throw temper tantrums if he didn’t get his way.”

  “Really?” Hope could see that he wasn’t the least bit upset at this revelation.

  Mrs. Andrews nodded. “I kept my sanity by telling myself that determination is a good quality in an adult. In a two-year-old, not so much.”

  “I can see that about him. The whole stubborn thing,” Hope agreed.

  One of his dark eyebrows arched. “Has anyone ever told you that two against one is piling on? There are penalties against that in football.”

  “Football isn’t always fair,” the older woman said. “And neither is life.”

  “Words to live by. You should listen to your mother.”

  “What makes you think I don’t?” The pretended affront was reflected in the tilt of his head and made him look too cute. “Everything she says is a pearl—”

  His phone must have vibrated because he reached
for it, looked at the display, and said, “Stop talking about me.”

  His mother frowned as he moved a few feet away and answered the call. “He works too hard.”

  “How do you know the call is about work?” Hope asked.

  “The look on his face. Suddenly serious. I worry about him.”

  Hope studied the concentration on his features where the teasing expression had been only moments before. He was certainly driven to succeed. She’d wrongly judged him as mercenary when they’d first met and felt bad about it.

  “Maybe,” Hope said, “he can slow down a little now that he’s the trauma medical director here.”

  “That would be nice, but I’m not holding my breath. Failure isn’t an option for Jake. Hard work and too many hours are the price he pays.”

  He replaced his cell in the holster on his belt and rejoined them. “I have to go. Paramedics are bringing in accident victims.” He looked sincerely regretful. “Sorry about lunch, Mom. I’m on call.”

  “No need to apologize.” She touched his arm. “I understand.”

  “I was going to show you stuff not on the public tour, but duty calls—”

  “I’ll do that,” Hope offered. “A special tour rate for the medical director’s family. If you’re up for it, Mrs. Andrews?”

  “Call me Susan. I’d like that, Hope. How very sweet of you.”

  “Yeah,” Jake agreed. “I owe you one.”

  “No, I’m happy to—”

  “Gotta go,” he said, checking his phone. He leaned down to kiss his mom’s cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  “When you have time, sweetheart.”

  Hope stood beside the older woman as they watched him hurry through the hospital’s automatic double doors to the designated doctor parking just outside. The teasing was fun and she missed him already. That was beyond stupid and fell into pathetic territory.

  She pulled her gaze from where he’d disappeared and looked at his mom. “I’ll show you the rest of the hospital.”

  “Wonderful.”

  They took the elevator upstairs for a look at the cheerful and sunny patient rooms. There were pullout beds tucked away in a window seat to allow a family member to spend the night with a sick loved one. Each bed had a computer where medical information was charted and could be shared in e-mail updates to family and friends. It also functioned as a personal computer.