in which John chased her and demanded to know what she was doing in the emergency room. The nightmare might not be far from reality. After all, he’d looked right at her. What could she say when he asked her what she’d been doing there? Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask? What if he just assumed that like so many before her, she hadn’t been able to stay away from him?
Those nightmares didn’t disturb her nearly as much as the other dream she had about John Grant on Saturday night. In that one, she ran from him, but he caught her arm, spinning her around and giving her a sexy smile as he said, “Don’t worry. Everybody likes me.” Then he kissed her, his body pressed against hers, and she thought she might implode from the combined pleasure of his touch and the pressure of his body.
Becky woke, her heart pounding in her chest and a painful longing permeating her body. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and remembered when she was young and woke from a nightmare, her mother would give her a glass of warm milk to soothe her and settle any hunger pains. But this hunger wouldn’t be satisfied with milk. She rolled over, punching her pillow as she tried to get comfortable.
Chapter 3
On Monday morning, Becky dressed with a great deal of extra care. She coiled her sandy blond hair into a complicated French twist and donned her best business suit, which flattered her figure without being too sexy. She applied a light layer of makeup, and, stepping back from the mirror, barely recognized herself. Becky was more likely to wear slacks to work, or jeans when she could get away with them, but the formality of her business clothes made them a shield, almost a disguise.
She arrived early and stopped by her office to drop off her briefcase and check her voicemail. Finally, unable to postpone it any longer, she took the elevator downstairs. She half hoped John wouldn’t be around, but as luck would have it, he was the first person she saw, reading charts and signing orders at the admissions desk.
He glanced up at her approach. “Morning, ace.” His gaze slid over her. “That what you’re wearing?”
“What?” Becky blinked, startled. In spite of her careful wardrobe choice, she hadn’t expected her clothing to be scrutinized first thing.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “C’mon back to my office with me for a minute. We need to get a few things straight before we get started.”
Biting her lip, she followed him, admitting to herself she was nervous. His office was as she’d expected. Most department heads had similar workspaces, some a little more plush than others. John’s had barely enough room for his desk, several bookshelves, a chair and a filing cabinet. He motioned her to sit in the chair while he perched on the edge of the desk.
“First off,” he said, “this is not my idea of fun, Ms. Gray. However, seeing as it’s you, and I have my reasons for believing you’re at least moderately talented, I’m willing to put up with it. Second, I need to know I can trust you. You’re going to be observing patients who’d rather not see their names in the newspaper or on the internet.”
She tilted her chin, feeling defiant. “I know all about patient confidentiality, Dr. Grant. I’ve been trained to work in the hospital.”
“Maybe. Obviously, not in the emergency room. It gets messy out there, and you’ve got to be able to move fast.” Again he gave her an assessing look, and Becky fought against the blush she felt rising in her cheeks. He returned his gaze to hers and folded his arms across his chest. “I really don’t think you’re ready for this.”
“Not ready?” Unexpected anger replaced her surprise. He sounded far too much like a teacher reproaching her for not studying for a test. “I’ve spent the past seventy-two hours getting ready for this. I’ve done my homework. Besides, what is there for me to do but stay out of the way?”
He made a sound like a grunt and gave her an odd look–almost a glare–before stalking out of the office, striding across the department without looking back.
Becky did her best to keep up, taking two steps for every one of his, but she couldn’t avoid the feeling of being dragged along in his wake. She thought of herself as being in pretty good shape, but she really didn’t consider skipping after a giant as a fair workout. Inwardly, she cursed everything from John Grant to the pumps she regretted wearing to Adam and the hospital board for wishing this assignment on her. Glaring at his back, she decided he definitely was not allowed to kiss her in her dreams anymore.
John finally came to a stop beside the locker rooms, reached into a bin and pulled out a set of scrubs. He tossed them to Becky. “Those should fit. Put them on. You’re on your own with the shoes, though. Your feet are way too small to fit any extras we might be able to rustle up.” He started back across the room at full stride, but stopped suddenly, looking back over his shoulder. “You don’t faint at the sight of blood, do you?”
Becky checked the size of the scrubs. “I don’t know. I reckon we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Probably.” He drew out the word with an ominous look before turning on his heel again.
Becky hurried to change and left her suit in an empty locker. She felt ridiculous in scrubs and pumps, but figured the staff would probably be too busy to notice. Indeed, by the time she returned from the locker room, the ER bustled with multiple accident victims from a three-car pileup on the interstate.
Deciding to prove she could stay out of everyone’s way, Becky found a spot in the corner where she could get a good view of the action, watching John call out orders and perform several procedures she couldn’t immediately name. Though she didn’t understand everything that was going on, Becky drew on her training as a journalist, jotting down quick notes and describing what she saw and heard. She promised herself she’d sort out the feeling the real-life drama elicited later.
As if by magic, the drama ended as the patients were transferred to the wards or the OR. Nurses hurried around, disposing of the used trauma trays. The activity in the ER returned to its usual level of chaos.
Seeing John look around, Becky stepped from the shadows and caught his eye. He beckoned her over.
“You can stay out of the way, can’t you, ace?” He regarded her in a satisfied manner. “Coffee?”
She nodded. “How about those guys? Will any of them make it?”
John looked quizzical for a moment, then shrugged. “There wasn’t anything really serious–a broken pelvis and some internal injuries–so they’ll probably all recover. That was nothing, really.”
“‘Broken pelvis’ and ‘internal injuries’ sound pretty serious to me.”
“I’ve probably got a different scale of reference.” He shrugged again. “I see those sorts of injuries all the time. It’s no big deal. When patients are transferred out of the ER, I forget them. I have to move on.” He gestured around at the continuing activity in the room. Nurses guided patients into alcoves where interns and residents examined them.
Becky nodded, understanding. An ER doctor couldn’t afford to get attached to a patient. At any moment, he could be called away. He had to be ready for the next trauma. She wondered if John even remembered Dee Martin and her sister.
He led her into a little room off to the side. Becky caught a glimpse of a clock and was startled to realize it was after noon.
John followed her glance. “Time goes fast in here, or it crawls. It’s sort of funny. You’ll be working on a patient, doing your damnedest to save him, sure that hours have passed, then you send him off to surgery and find out it’s been fifteen minutes.” He poured two cups of coffee and sat at a table, curling his long legs under his chair.
Stifling a grateful sigh, Becky sank down across from him, slipping off the constricting pumps at the same time. The coffee was black, which she hated, but she would as soon have asked for caviar and champagne than cream and sugar. She knew he looked for any sign of weakness, and even a simple request for something to soften the bitterness of her coffee would suffice.