Surgeons, Rivals...Lovers

“Agreed.” Enzo checked the cuff again. “One hundred and forty-three over eighty-one.” The tension that had held him stiff and hard in the preceding moments left in one rushing wave, so swift his shoulders slouched forward briefly.

Without thinking, his nearest hand landed on the back of her neck to lightly squeeze as he directed her gaze to the cuff. Her skin felt hot beneath the ponytail she wore, and his palm prickled where it touched her.

“Blood circulating again,” she whispered, her breathless smile hitting him square in the chest. Shared relief. Before he could think it through, he pulled her into his arms for a hug. She sagged against him, her hands fisting in the back of his scrubs.

Apples. Her hair smelled faintly of apples, and something earthier. Clean. Sweet.

The comfort was fleeting as within seconds she’d stiffened. Her hands released the material of his shirt, reminding him it wasn’t the time to be hugging this stranger with the soft womanly curves, or smelling her fruity hair.

He let go and put a little distance between them. What was worse, looking overly familiar or overly emotional?

Color had returned to her face and was focused on her cheeks now. He’d definitely crossed some line.

Right. “Get a line in him, and we’ll ride with you.” He redirected his thoughts to the paramedics, who really didn’t need to be told what to do except that they’d come to a scene with two surgeons running things.

Kimberlyn left the cuff in place but went about gathering the contents of her bag as if the contact had never happened. He reached for his cell again.

Ootaka answered on the first ring. “Dr. Ootaka, there was an accident a few blocks from the hospital. Assisting with a cardiac tamponade. Thought you might want a heads-up to meet the ambulance.”

The conversation was brief. A neck brace and helmet removal later, they lifted the man onto a backboard, then the stretcher, and trotted for the ambulance.

“He’s on call today?” She climbed into the ambulance after the stretcher had been rolled in.

Enzo nodded, keeping his hands off her even though his natural instinct was to help her into the ambulance. “He’s going to meet us.” He stashed his phone and jerked his head in the direction of the hospital. “I’m running. Keep our patient alive. It’s only a little way to the hospital.”

Some physical exertion would help. So would avoiding any enclosed spaces with her. Good for all concerned. Or good for him, which was the important bit. And she wouldn’t have to worry that he was about to hug her again. What the devil had that been about? He was happy about the patient, but still—weird.

Probably some kind of natural instinct in the wake of all that fear and hope warring on her face roused his protective instincts. Unfortunately.

He closed the doors, banged once to let them know it was safe to drive and then took off at a run for a nearby alley. Three blocks by vehicle, one on foot.

After her showing up on the scene, even if Ootaka would’ve been put off by the emotion, he still would’ve been impressed by the woman’s knowledge. Which was okay, so long as Ootaka remained most impressed with him. Enzo hadn’t fought his way through school and years of residency to lose it at the eleventh hour to a little scared Southern nobody…

If his luck held, Ootaka would meet him at the ambulance bay and he’d have a couple of minutes to speak with him before the ambulance—and his shiny new competition—caught up.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_3e145ed9-2683-505b-b47a-0ec930d79c97)

ENZO MET DR. TAKEO OOTAKA at the ambulance bay doors. Normally, sprinting a block would do very little to his heart rate. Not today. Today he was winded by the time he jogged through the automatic doors. Winded and annoyed. Off his game.

The older Japanese surgeon stood waiting, leaving Enzo no time to work out his problem. He barely had time for a good breath. Ootaka stared past Enzo to the empty ambulance bay, a look that demanded answers.

During the past four years, and especially the past year when he’d largely been Ootaka’s primary assistant, he’d become used to anticipating Ootaka’s questions from his expression alone. So he answered, “I ran ahead. It was faster on foot and I wanted a better chance to brief you.”

And it’s hot, he wanted to say. Hot and muggy, which no doubt contributed to his elevated pulse and respirations.

He took another deep, cleansing breath and launched in, giving the pertinent details even as he heard the sirens drawing closer to the building. “Massive bruising, likely fractured sternum, probably some ribs, too, but structure mostly intact.”

From where the ambulance bay was located, he could see the vehicle turning into the parking lot. If he wanted to ask, it was now or never.

“I expect that there will be a need for surgery.” He waited only long enough for the usually taciturn surgeon to nod, and added, “I’d really like to stay with the patient and assist you.”

Underhanded? No. Smart.

She’d been the one ahead of the curve with the diagnosis and field aspirations. While he wouldn’t ever claim the spot of underdog, or let himself be relegated there, winners made their own fate. Preemptive maneuvers. Offense, not simply defense.

Besides, Davis had to learn sometime that the laid-back Southern lifestyle wouldn’t fly in the city—something she clearly needed to work on, in addition to learning some leadership qualities. Let that be her second New York lesson: if you want something, you have to fight for it. Everyone wanted something, so chances were if you wanted something, then someone else wanted to take it away from you.

And that was enough justifying. What in the world was wrong with him?

He blew out a steady breath as his vitals came back under control.

“Let’s see what we have, then.” Ootaka finally spoke as the ambulance rolled to a stop, triggering the automatic doors. They moved off to one side to clear the route for the stretcher.

Ootaka stood with his hands at his sides, placid and waiting attentively. No indication anything was amiss.

Never in his entire career so far had Enzo ever felt this rattled in front of his mentor.

Only one person in the hospital had ever been able to rattle him, and they had an unspoken agreement of avoidance.

Even while watching his fellow residents fall out of the grizzled surgeon’s favor, Enzo had always been the one in control and confident in his abilities. He knew Ootaka’s rules. He understood the detached perfectionism that made up nearly the entirety of his operating-room demeanor. His professionalism, steadfast confidence and resolve were perfection in Enzo’s eyes. Ootaka was precisely the kind of surgeon Enzo wanted to be. The best. Second to none after Ootaka retired. There could be no better place to learn that than Ootaka’s OR.

Tension rolled over his shoulders and down his arms. Not like Ootaka’s relaxed stance. In the reflection of the glass doors he could see his own arms… hanging at his sides, but stiff, ready for a fight. He rolled his hands at the wrist and settled. Shaking his arms out would only look even more affected.

He couldn’t avoid Davis as he did Lyons. Did he even want to? He took an inventory of his goals. Staying on top would mean a better understanding of whether she truly was a threat or just another future ex-contender. Having a good understanding of his obstacles was the only way to overcome them. It was the not knowing that had him rattled. Once he had figured out the situation, there wouldn’t be any weird emotional responses to taint Ootaka’s opinion of him.

Whatever it took. Even if it meant angering a new colleague when she figured out he’d outmaneuvered her. But what did that matter to him? Another fact for her to get used to. She would’ve had to anticipate the sharp learning curve to come into the program this late in the game, and there was zero chance of her assisting on her first day anyway.

Ootaka never trusted one of his patients to anyone with untested skills. In that light, his request wasn’t anything more than a formality when you got down to it. Asking first just showed initiative, a good practice. He wouldn’t feel guilty about it.

Bonus: it’d give Ootaka an easy out if Davis came in asking, because she’d definitely want to assist. Helpful, like someone he’d want around for the next two years. As she exited the ambulance, Enzo added, “There was another resident on the scene. The transfer, Davis. She rode in the back with the patient.”

“I wondered why she wasn’t here yet.”

In addition to untested surgeons in his OR, Ootaka also hated tardiness. The man kept an updated list of sins that could get you banned from his OR forever. She probably hadn’t a clue about them. His action now might actually save her career—give her time to learn the rules before she went in blind and violated them. It was a good-guy thing to do. The idea that her competence might come into question because she’d been late saving a life didn’t sit well. He could throw her a bone, let Ootaka know she’d made the call and aspirations.

“She—”

As the first word came out the two EMTs, Davis and the gurney rolled in, the little motor on the wrist cuff whirring to take another reading.

Ootaka cut in, “Who diagnosed the cardiac tamponade?”

“I diagnosed Mr. Elliot’s tamponade, Dr. Ootaka.” She immediately answered the question while still passing through the sliding doors.

All the mousiness he’d glimpsed earlier was gone. That was something at least. She recognized Ootaka on sight, which really shouldn’t surprise him—she’d transferred in for his fellowship if the rumor mill was to be believed. She’d have done some research.

Though Ootaka was hard to miss. He had a kind of forbidding quality to his expression, even when he was in a good mood. Smiles actually involving his mouth were rare. Ninety percent of his expressions were in the eyes.

“The aspirations are what stabilized Mr. Elliot.” He rolled with the name they must’ve discovered on the way. “Brought him back into normal sinus rhythm. He was in V-tach before the serosanguineous fluid was drawn off.”