LITMIR.BIZ

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for the nurses to wean Mr. Turkow from the ventilator after she’d verified that his lungs were fully inflated following his pneumothorax. When it was time to extubate him, she called Jake just to make sure she was on the right track. Jake had immediately come up to the ICU to review everything she’d done for the patient, before agreeing with her plan.

      “You’ll need to be ready to make rounds with me in fifteen minutes,” he said in a curt tone.

      “Rounds?” she repeated, a little confused. Generally the surgical teams made rounds first thing in the morning. Not five o’clock in the evening.

      He looked her straight in the eye. “You said you’re taking first call tonight, right?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’m the attending on call tonight as well and we need to see every patient on service so you understand my expectations.”

      Oka-a-a-y, now she understood. Wasn’t it just her luck that he was the attending on call? As if it wasn’t difficult enough working with him during the day? She made sure her dismay didn’t show. “Of course. Do you want to meet in the ICU first?” Logically, she thought starting with the sickest patients made the most sense.

      “No, we’ll start on the general surgical floor. The ICU patients are going to take longer to review as their medical needs are more complicated, so I generally leave them for last.”

      She took a deep breath and nodded. So much for her logic. She felt as if she was fighting an uphill battle to earn Jake’s respect as a physician. Refusing to let her nervousness show, Hannah pulled out her new pack of three-by-five note cards and prepared to take good notes. As a medical student she’d learned the trick of putting each patient on a card and using them as a reference throughout the night.

      Although this was the first time she’d be the one responsible for making the medical decisions. Decisions that Jake would use as a basis to critique her performance. She ignored a flutter of panic.

      Actually, it was good news that the attending surgeon, even if it was Jake, would be in house all night. At least she would have backup if she got in over her head. For some reason, every time she looked for Richard, the senior resident, he was busy elsewhere.

      She would have felt completely alone if not for Jake.

      After copying Mr. Turkow’s information on a card, she hurried out to the general trauma surgical floor to meet Jake. Dr. Holt.

      She should have been glad that he treated her like any other resident in the program, but as they made rounds on the patients, talking to the nurses and reviewing their charts, she couldn’t seem to stop searching his gaze for some sign of—what? She didn’t really know. Recognition? Acknowledgement? Support? Camaraderie?

      What she got was indifferent professionalism.

      He was right that the ICU patients took much longer to do rounds on. When they finished, she had a thick stack of cards with key information for each patient noted on them.

      “Dr. Holt, could you tell me where the trauma-surgery call rooms are located?” she asked. She’d learned during the tour earlier that morning that each service had a group of call rooms, but she’d lost track of exactly which ones were located where.

      He raised a brow. “Do you honestly think you’re going to be spending much time in your call room?” he asked with a note of sarcasm.

      “No,” she answered candidly. “But I’d still like to know where they are, just in case by some miracle I am able to get one or two hours of sleep tonight.”

      The corner of his mouth tipped upward in a half smile and she was grateful for the tiny crack of humanity beneath the layer of cool professionalism.

      She much preferred Jake the man over Dr. Holt the chief of trauma surgery.

      Get used to it, she reminded herself. From here on out, she was only working with Dr. Holt, the chief of trauma surgery. Jake the man didn’t exist.

      Not for her. Not anymore.

      “First floor, west corridor down the hall from the trauma bays,” he said. “You can pick up a key for the call rooms from the operator.”

      “Thanks.” She was starving, having only eaten a handful of crackers from the ICU kitchenette for lunch, so she quickly ran down to get her key from the operator and then headed over to the cafeteria.

      Apparently Jake had the same idea, to eat now before something bad happened, because he arrived as she was waiting for her chicken sandwich and fries. She saw him come up beside her out of the corner of her eye. She tried not to breathe in too deeply the familiar, musky scent of his aftershave.

      A stirring of desire flickered low in her belly. She did her best to ignore it. Cripes, she really needed to get past this insane physical response to the man.

      She quickly paid for her meal and then desperately glanced around the cafeteria for someplace to sit. She saw the familiar face of one of the other interns from her group, and quickly read his name tag. Kyle Franklin. “Hey, do you mind if I eat with you?”

      “No problem,” Kyle said, waving a hand at the empty seat.

      She sat down gratefully. “So what service did you end up on?” she asked conversationally.

      “Ob-gyn,” he muttered with a grimace. “How about you?”

      “Trauma,” she answered.

      “Damn, you’re lucky. Summer is the best time to be on trauma. Of course, I’m not on the trauma service until November. Boring.” He took a bite of his pizza and then groaned when his pager went off. He glanced down at it with annoyance. “Great. A woman just arrived in active labor. Sorry to cut this short but I gotta go.” He shoved the last bit of pizza into his mouth and then took off running.

      Alone again, Hannah sighed and took a bite of her chicken sandwich. She tensed when a familiar scent teased her senses.

      “Do you mind if I sit down?” Jake asked.

      The mouthful of food lodged in her throat and she had to take a sip of her water to prevent herself choking. Was he doing this on purpose? Why on earth had he chosen to come over to sit with her? On the other hand, how did you say no to the chief of trauma? “Ah, no, I don’t mind,” she managed. She set down her water with a jerky movement that almost upended the cup. “Dr. Franklin had to leave for a delivery.”

      “You need to relax,” he advised, as he plunked his tray on the table across from her.

      Relax? Was he kidding?

      “You were tense all through rounds,” he pointed out, after taking a healthy bite of his burger. “Since you can’t seem to relax while working with me, I’d be happy to support a request for you to transfer off Trauma.”

      Transfer off Trauma? She stared at him in horror. Was that even an option? But she narrowed her gaze when she noted the flicker of hope in his eyes. Oh, sure, he’d love her to transfer off Trauma, wouldn’t he? That would be a ridiculously easy way to get rid of her. Well, fat chance. Kyle was right—summer was the best time to be on Trauma. No way was she going to admit defeat. “I’m not tense, just excited,” she said, stretching the truth just a bit. “Being on Trauma is a total thrill. I’ve done more procedures today than general-surgery interns do in a week.”

      “You might change your mind after working thirty hours straight,” he said, as if surprised by her response.

      Keeping the easy smile on her face wasn’t easy, considering she knew how incredible he looked naked.

      Stop it! She had to stop thinking about that.

      She shrugged. “It’s all part of the package, right? I pulled plenty of all-nighters during medical school, so it won’t be anything new.” He had no idea how she’d struggled to juggle two jobs along with the responsibilities of being on service as a third- and fourth-year med student. “I know the hours are long and the pay is dismal but I’m totally psyched to learn everything I can.”

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