Sweet Salvation (3 page)

Marc laughed. Jared was what women called the strong, silent type. Some women fell for that hard. He was a great guy, but more serious than Marc who was usually joking, laughing, and flirting. Marc loved the ladies, but he found that working sixteen-hour days between the OR and the clinic, severely limited his dating options. Cruising for chicks at the usual places was difficult enough, but when you had little time or energy, it became next to impossible.

With his options narrowed, he’d begun doing what he’d been warned not to do. That’s right; he’d dipped his pen in the company ink. At least that was the nicest euphemism he knew for dating co-workers and associates. There was a reason companies had a no-fraternization policy, Marc had only recently found out.

Over the course of the past year, there had been a nurse and another doctor. His latest fling with a cute nurse’s aide named Amanda had ended a few weeks ago. She had been on the rebound from her old boyfriend when Marc asked her out. She’d been open about it at the time, and although both had reservations, they’d gone out. After a few enjoyable dates, Amanda had ended it. Once her ex-boyfriend, Joe or was it John? Whichever… Once he’d found out she was moving on and had upgraded to a surgeon, he’d come crawling back. Amanda wanted that as well, because—big surprise—Joe or John was the father of her three-year-old daughter. She’d told Marc all of this over a friendly lunch in the hospital cafeteria, ending their brief fling without drama or incident, or so they thought—big mistake. By the next day, the gossip mill was churning out a rumor so highly steeped in bullshit that even reality TV wouldn’t have bought it. Something about a broken-hearted Amanda, begging him to change his mind, which had deteriorated into a shouting match. None of which had even remotely happened.

Marc had seen firsthand that the high-velocity hospital grapevine, although grossly inaccurate, was terrifyingly efficient, and gossip, especially dating and break-up gossip, spread like wildfire. Jared had warned him from the first. He could still hear him saying, ‘Don’t foul your own nest, man. Nothing good can come of it.’ To Marc, this had translated to the more vulgar but much more widely known, ‘don’t shit where you eat.’ Had he listened? No.

Jared’s father, who was also a surgeon on staff at the hospital, had run into him in the hallway after the Amanda incident and warned him. “Don’t get your honey where you get your money, son. I thought Jared would have warned you about that by now.” Of course he had, numerous times, but apparently, most everyone else took this to heart except him.

He had decided, after Amanda, that Jared and the old adages were right; no more dating anyone who worked at or was associated with St. Joseph’s Mercy Hospital. He was through.

A movement at the counter caught Marc’s eye and brought him back to the present. The large man at the counter was heading out, which meant Marc now had a clear view of the entire counter. At the far end sat a stunning redhead deep in conversation with their waitress, Lillian. This had to be the daughter. From what he could see of her—that wasn’t blocked by the counter—her mother hadn’t lied, except she was stunning, not merely pretty. He noticed right off that she talked with her hands. Her rounder parts bounced deliciously as she gestured, intent on making a point while she spoke animatedly with her mother. He couldn’t pull his eyes away. They dipped, taking in her spectacular behind when she stood abruptly. Leaning across the counter for a quick hug made her shirt ride up and the small of her back was displayed. Marc’s eyes widened next when she straightened and a band of smooth white belly was exposed below her tee. She was magnificent and those tits—double D in his expert opinion—made his mouth water. His dick stirred and awakened.

“What are you gawking at?” Jared asked, turning in his seat. His soft whistle told him he’d identified the gawkee. They both watched, catching no more than a glimpse of her walking away, but oh hell, what a glimpse it was. As she walked toward the door, the swing in her hips drew Marc’s avid gaze to her exceptional ass. Moving quickly, her short skirt flared and twitched provocatively. In seconds she was gone, exiting by the side door, but her memory lingered for Marc.

“Poor bastard,” Jared murmured in sympathy.

“Yeah, that’s the sad story of our lives, bud, beautiful women walking away.”

“At least yours doesn’t live 800 fucking miles away.”

* * *

Gray scrubs with a small band of pink at the v-neckline, ugh! Who had picked out this awful color combination? Jessica Swanson looked at herself as she tucked her mass of red hair under the blue scrub cap. Next came her shoe protectors—these were yellow. Oh well, surgical nursing had never promised to be fashionable.

She walked into the scrub room and began her thorough five-minute scrub. While she was scrubbing with the brush under and around her nails, Josie, the nurse who had been training her, walked in. Jessie, although always thorough, became a bit more diligent because Josie was also the clinical leader for the OR and her immediate supervisor.

“Are you ready for your solo, Jess?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“I assigned you to Dr. Trent this morning. He’s very patient. You should be fine. The total hip replacement is routine and you should be out in a little over an hour. After that, you have two scopes with Dr. Baker. All in all, it’s an easy day.”

“I hope so. Can I hope for an uneventful one too?” Finished, Jessie stepped off the foot pedal that operated the flow of water and headed for the swinging door, one of the few things not automated at this top-ranked hospital.

“We pray for uneventful every day around here. Break a leg.”

Jess laughed as she pressed her butt against the door and backed into OR-4 where she’d been assigned. “Don’t you mean, fix a leg? Mr. Archer already took care of the breaking part before coming in.”

Josie laughed as if she’d never heard that old joke before. Jessie, who appreciated her effort, shook her head and chuckled as she was greeted by one of the surgical techs who tied her mask in place. Once gowned, she immediately walked over and began setting up the instruments as Josie had shown her. About twenty minutes later, the patient arrived. Mr. Archer was a charming 70-year-old whom she’d met in the pre-op area. He was here for an elective procedure, which if successful, would relieve the constant pain from his degenerating hip. After a few weeks of rehab and barring post-op complications, he would be more mobile than before with an improved quality of life. He was rolled in and transferred to the table by the technicians. She approached him, smiling with her eyes, eager to put him at ease.

“Are you ready to go bionic, Mr. Archer?”

“Oh, Jessie, it’s nice to see a familiar—” He paused as his nervous eyes swept over her mask and scrub cap. “I was going to say face, but I can only see your eyes, and yours are some of the bluest I’ve ever seen.”

“Such a flatterer, but I thank you. Just relax now while we finish up with the preparations.” Her eyes flicked to the nurse anesthetist who was getting ready near the head of the table. After a few seconds more, she was ready and nodded an okay. “Looks like Sherry is ready to make you sleepy as soon as the tardy Dr. Trent arrives.”

Looking down into his face, she saw the anxiety stamped in the tight lines around his mouth. She wanted to reach out and squeeze his shoulder in reassurance, but she couldn’t break the sterile field. She clenched her hands into tight fists in self-restraint. “Don’t worry, Mr. Archer. Dr. Trent has an excellent reputation and before you know it you’ll be kicking his ass on the links again at Forest Hills.”

Her patient laughed as she’d hoped, as did the other OR staff, then a new voice came from behind her. “Have you been dissing my handicap, Arthur? I’m crushed. In front of my new scrub nurse too.”

Jessie assumed it was Dr. Trent, but she didn’t turn to confirm it since he was standing too close. If she turned around and brushed against him, she could contaminate them both and they’d have to re-scrub. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful impression to make on her first day? She stood still, keeping her eyes on the older man’s face as his gaze lifted well over her head. Dr. Trent must be tall. Her curiosity was killing her, but she waited. In due time, they’d meet officially.

“Jessie says I’ll be kicking your ass again, Marc. I trust her, so you had better be saving your pennies for tournament time in September.”

The deep genuine laugh that rumbled behind her sent a frisson of electricity up her spine.
What a voice
, she thought, and that laugh was as warm and luxurious as a bubble bath that you’d want to soak in for hours. She tensed. Where had that come from?
Sheesh, pay attention, woman, you’re working
.

“You’re on, my friend,” said the deep voice, “shall we get started?”

Sherry scooted forward on her stool and slipped the mask onto Arthur’s face, asking him to count backward from one hundred. By the count of ninety-three, he was out. Dr. Trent had moved away and she was free to take her position down the table, directly across from him. As the scrub nurse, she was his primary assistant. He stepped close to the table and she looked up, her gaze eye level with his chest. Her eyes tracked upward. He was tall. Correction, he was very tall. He stood several inches over six feet, and the table was elevated to accommodate his height, making it necessary for five-foot-four–inch Jessie to stand on a riser. During training, Jessie had learned this special setup was required by Drs. Trent and Baker; now she knew why.

She looked up at him and stopped breathing. He had the most beautiful brown eyes she’d ever seen. It sounded trite and overused, even in her own mind, but it was true. The primary chocolate combined with a sprinkling of gold in the iris to make the warm golden brown color. They were entrancing.

A throat cleared at her side and she turned, thankful for the distraction. It was Sherry. “He’s ready. We can proceed with the surgical pause.”

It was all professional after that. They went through the required pause to identify the right patient, right site, and so on, and then Dr. Trent began. Jessie kept her eyes on her patient and the tools needed to repair his worn-out hip. She responded without hesitation to all of Dr. Trent’s orders for instruments, or irrigation, and swabbing with the sponges. Before she knew it, he was stapling the long incision closed.

“You do beautiful work, Doctor.”

“Why thank you, blue eyes,” he murmured, amusement evident although he didn’t look up from his task.

Jessie glanced up at him, frowning. He shouldn’t call her that; the others would get the wrong impression. “My name is Jessie, sir. I’d much rather—”

Finished, the doctor stood up straight and set the stapler back on the tray. They were done except for a dressing. “I’d happily call you by name, but you didn’t share it with me at any point in the past ninety minutes. If I’d said nurse, at least four others would have answered, so I figured I’d improvise.”

Their eyes met. His twinkling, hers narrowed in concern. Was he flirting or just being friendly? Either way, she had a reputation to maintain.

“I’m sorry. I was concentrating. This was my first solo and I was anxious to do everything perfectly.”

“You did wonderfully, as if you’ve been doing this for years. How much experience do you have?”

“Just under two years, but I took the peri-operative training course and I’m certified.”

She stepped off the riser and moved around the table next to him, gathering up the instruments in order to begin the counts and clean up with the circulating nurse. Looking up, she realized just how much the riser helped, because she now felt like she was standing in a hole. Their eyes connected and held for a moment. A frown furrowed his brow suddenly and she saw the mask move as he swallowed.

“Well, you did great and I look forward to working with you again.”

His tone had changed, turning strictly professional, still friendly but no hint of flirtation. That was a good thing, right? Then, without another word, he was gone.

Jessie finished up and took a short break before her next procedure with Dr. Baker in forty minutes. When she returned a few minutes later, she headed for the documentation room to do a little charting, but the sound of hushed voices made her pause. She’d worked in hospitals long enough to know whispered voices were usually toxic.

“Twenty bucks says she’s next.”

“You’re on. I was in there. She was chatting him up, smiling at him with those big baby blues, but he shut her down.” That was Sherry, the CRNA. She recognized the slight rasp in her voice.

“I’m in. She is exactly his type. He goes for the cute ones, with big boobs and a round boo-tay. She’s got all that goin’ on.” This came from Allen, the surgical tech. Jessie didn’t recognize the other woman’s voice, it sounded garbled as if she were eating, but even if she didn’t know her, it hurt all the same. Dang, it was that blue eyes comment. She knew that would be trouble as soon as he’d spoken. She’d like to smack Dr. Trent.

She turned to leave, deciding to chart later, and saw another tall young doctor walking into the suite. This must be Dr. Baker. Deciding to be proactive this time, she walked up to him and assertively stuck out her hand and introduced herself. Soon she found herself in conversation with another handsome surgeon who welcomed her with an easy friendly manner and a devastating smile. From the way she had to tilt her head to talk to him, she knew he was as tall as Dr. Trent was. She could see the ripple of muscles across his broad chest as the blue scrub top (a much better color than the nurse’s gray) stretched tautly. His exposed arms in the short sleeves left no question that he was ripped.

He asked about her background and experience, and although he was courteous and professional, it reminded Jessie of a job interview. She really didn’t mind; curiosity about the people you work with and rely on was natural.

Tight quarters made it necessary to stand closely, more so than two strangers ordinarily would. His shoulder propped against the wall made it look casual, too casual she thought for people who’d just met. That was how Sherry, Allen, and Josie found them. Jess was surprised to see the unidentified gossiping woman was Josie. Sherry and Allen wore identical smirks on their faces, while Josie’s face darkened with a frown. She could just imagine what they were thinking, that she was a flirt, or a slut, and that their bet was safe. Did she have to be a complete bitch or a mute to avoid this crap? Dammit! This was not starting well.