LITMIR.BIZ

      Table of Contents

       Cover

      Praise for Susan Carlisle

       Title Page

      Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      HEART SURGEON MICHELLE ROSS used her hip to nudge open the swinging door to the number four operating room in Raleigh Medical Center in North Carolina.

      Her patient, Mr. Martin, waiting on her to begin repairing his artery, was the type of person that affected her most. There were almost always young children waiting at home for their parent to get better. She had to save this father. Make sure he lived to return to his family.

      Dressed in sterile gown and with hands covered in latex gloves, she eyed her team and asked in a crisp voice, “Are we ready to begin?”

      The quietly speaking group gathered around the middle-aged patient suddenly became mute. If a scalpel had been mishandled and fallen to the floor it would have echoed in the soundless room.

      She looked at each of them and watched as every set of eyes refused to meet her gaze. What was going on? Normally her team was ready to proceed without hesitation. She asked the same question before each operation out of habit.

      Glitches weren’t allowed in her OR. Efficiency was her motto. Her patients deserved the best and she saw that they got it. She’d hand-picked her team and they knew what was expected, she trusted them, so what was the issue?

      Her team’s unwillingness to answer didn’t alleviate her anxiety over a case that would require her complete attention. She stepped to her place beside the table before her gaze landed on the anesthesiologist resident at the head of the patient. “Where’s Schwartzie?” she demanded.

      The younger doctor’s eyes flickered a couple of times above the top edge of his surgical mask and he said, “Dr. Schwartz’s replacement isn’t here yet.”

      Annoyance blistered in her. Her patient deserved better. She opened her mouth to respond but someone entering the door stopped her. A man with wide shoulders had his back to her. He made an agile pivot and faced the group. A bright orange zebra-striped surgical cap screamed for attention in her sterile and ordered world. The basic blue surgical uniform of the hospital covered his body but what caught her attention again were the glowing lime-colored clogs that shone through the surgical paper booties on his feet.

      Who was this clown? All that was missing was the red nose. As he approached the group her focus centered on his striking jade-colored eyes above his mask. Those orbs met hers expectantly, held her gaze before the twinkle in them put her off guard.

      Surely this wasn’t her missing anesthesiologist?

      “Hey, I’m Ty Smith. I’m filling in for Schwartz.” Despite the mask covering his mouth, she could tell he was smiling as he made eye contact with each person.

      “We have a patient waiting,” she said, halting any further pleasantries.

      “You must be Dr. Ross,” he stated in a cheerful tone.

      “I am. And I’m ready to begin.”

      He pulled the stool forward with his foot and sat with one easy movement. He didn’t seem to give her a further thought or show any concern that they had all been waiting for him.

      Looking

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