The Surgeon's Favourite Nurse

“About your work—I asked for a particular type of surgical instruments. They’re from a German manufacturer and are specifically calibrated. Is there another list?” He pointed to the paper he’d replaced on her desk. “I don’t see what I requested on that one.”

She knew the brand he meant and it was out of the question. “You don’t see them because they weren’t ordered.”

“Just like that?”

“Too expensive.” She blew out a breath. “Every surgeon has a favorite, but it’s my job to whittle down the list to the most commonly used.”

“Even if the most common ones result in limitations that prevent the patient from getting the best possible results?”

Was this his way of pushing back, being difficult, punishing her for the bastard remark? It had been out of line, but so was his flirting. And it had provoked her own fight-or-flight response. She wasn’t running, unless you counted taking this job in Las Vegas to avoid painful memories back home.

“If you’re half as good as you think you are, Jake, you can use a potato peeler and a watermelon scoop to get a positive outcome.”

“And what if that doesn’t fly with me?”

“Then I might have to conclude that you can only make do with one product and suggest that perhaps you need to take another class or something.” She stood, but still had to look up at him and knew this wasn’t a good time to notice how he towered over her. The silence grew bigger and more awkward until she felt compelled to fill it. “Jake, you’re not my boss.”

“Yet.”

“Even so—”

“I’ll see you tonight, Hope.” His grin was highlighted with smug self-confidence that was darn sexy. And hot.

The resulting sizzle and burn fried all the electrical impulses in her brain, but she managed to stay on her feet and avoid embarrassment. Then she realized he was waiting for a response and tried to remember what he’d said. “Tonight?”

“The hospital’s private open house for state and city officials. Dignitaries on parade. It’s where we get to show off. There’s a rumor that the governor plans to drop in.” He stopped in the doorway and slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You’ll be here, right?”

“I’m giving guided tours of the trauma department. But why are you coming?”

“It would be rude to miss the moment when they announce my name as the new trauma medical director.”

He flashed a wicked grin before sauntering out of her office. She took a deep cleansing breath, but it didn’t help. Her pulse was pounding. Her heart was racing. And she was pretty sure if she looked in a mirror, her face would be flushed. Wasn’t it just her luck that the most arrogant, annoying, exasperating man on the planet had put the color back in her cheeks.

Also just her luck that this was the most alive she’d felt in a very long time.

Trouble had definitely paid her a visit and she would do her level best to avoid it tonight.

Jake didn’t dislike obligatory hospital functions, but he rarely anticipated one with as much enthusiasm as he did now. And there was only one reason.

Hope.

He’d parked his car in the lot outside Mercy Medical West on the corner of Warm Springs and Durango roads, then leaned into the cold January wind as he walked toward the brightly lit facility.

The bilevel architectural design combined with artistic touches and made this house of healing pleasing both to the eye and the spirit. On each floor of the building walls were painted a different color—blue, lavender, green or yellow—and the furniture and floors were done in coordinating shades.

Medical equipment was state-of-the art, the latest technology available. This hospital was going to be the jewel in Mercy Medical’s crown and it would do the same for his career. Maybe, finally, he could silence the voice inside him that warned he would always be that homeless white-trash kid who would never be good enough for the prom queen.

When he got to the facility’s double glass doors, they whispered open and released the noise from the crowd inside. Men in dark suits and women in cocktail dresses jammed the usually quiet, serene lobby. Waiters in black pants and crisp white shirts circulated with trays of food and glasses of champagne.

Jake scanned the gathering, searching for a blonde, but not just any blonde. There was a certain shade of honey in Hope’s hair and she had the prettiest hazel eyes he’d ever seen.

But it was her mouth that amped up his anticipation. Very defined, full lips curved up at the corners and were just about the most tempting thing he could imagine, and he could imagine a whole lot of temptation. If Hope Carmichael had been as provocative as a potato, he could have put her out of his mind, but his life had never been that simple or uncomplicated.

Jake glanced at his watch. The shindig had been under way for almost two hours and judging by the crowd concentrated in this area, tours of the facility were complete. So if she wasn’t jumping through hoops for dignitaries, where was she? Before he could decide what to do about that question, the president of the hospital’s board of directors introduced himself over a microphone. Jake located former Congressman Edward Havens on a dais set up for the occasion.

Ed introduced the governor, senator, mayor—blah, blah, blah. Then he ticked off the names of the campus president, department directors, etcetera. Finally he made eye contact with Jake and smiled, before announcing that the contract for trauma medical director was going to Dr. Jake Andrews.

Jake nodded, waved, smiled politely at everyone applauding around him and mentally high-fived himself. He loved it when a plan came together, and in this case the plan was all about his career and long-term financial security. All the hard work had paid off. He would be able to write his own ticket now. No one would ever again look at him like he was something worse than dirt on their shoes.

Searching faces in the crowd, he still didn’t see Hope. Suddenly he had an overwhelming urge to tell her “I told you so.” He wandered the facility and was oddly disappointed when his search didn’t produce the result he wanted. On his way back to the lobby, he passed the closed door of her office and tried the knob. When it turned, he pushed into the room and saw her there.

“Knock, knock,” he said, then softly tapped his knuckles on the door.

She looked startled before her eyes widened in recognition. “Doctor … Jake,” she corrected.

He walked inside and closed the door. Her desk was littered with computer equipment and stacks of folders. Around the perimeter of the room were moving boxes with flaps opened. The office paraphernalia inside looked as if it had been rifled through but not put away. So she was still settling in.

“How about a tour?” he asked.

“Sorry. You’re too late.”

Her eyes went from surprised to sad and he wondered what would make such a pretty lady unhappy. Then he wondered why he would notice at all. Or why he should care. It could have something to do with her bastard remark earlier. He liked that she didn’t scrape, bow and kiss his ass. That kind of crap got old real fast.

Jake slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You’re missing the party all locked away in here.”

“It’s work to me, and I’m taking a five-minute break.”

“Want some company? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Her gaze turned suspicious which was better than sad. “You’re not here to pester me about getting Bugs Bunny bandages, are you?”

“Something like that.” He moved closer, near enough that the sweetly sensuous scent of her perfume nearly made his eyes cross. “I was looking over the names and certifications on the trauma team and wondered why there was no admitting specialist in the group.”

She put her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “So you want designer scalpels, Bugs Bunny boo-boo covers and a personal assistant?”

“Yes.”

“Are you aware, Doctor, that it takes a hundred and fifty million dollars of up-front money to open a facility like this?”

“I think I heard that figure somewhere.” Although he found her figure in the snug little black dress with almost-not-there straps far more interesting. Mile-high heels made her legs look incredible. One glance was better than a shot of adrenaline to get his heart pumping.

“Did you also hear that a new facility is expected to lose money at first, because there’s no revenue stream?”

“Makes sense.” Unlike the fact that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth.

He knew she was attracted to him because he knew women and this one wasn’t very good at hiding her feelings. Her tone was full of Southern fried deference. She was trying to bow and scrape, but it was more about establishing a safe zone for herself.

She hadn’t wanted to shake his hand earlier and that was to avoid touching him. Because of her attraction. It was incredibly inconvenient that the feeling was mutual.