‘It’s one of the reasons we always make you undress trauma patients in the A and E department. You never know what injuries may be hiding and clinical signs may be subtle, particularly in the unconscious patient.’
He directed operations as the patient was carefully lifted into the ambulance and then sprang into the vehicle, his movements swift and athletic.
‘You and Charlotte bring the car. I’ll see you back in A and E.’
She turned back to the car feeling a huge range of emotions. On the one hand she felt that she’d learned a lot but on the other she felt helpless and cross with herself, knowing that she hadn’t dealt with the situation well.
The truth was, she’d been horrified by the extent of the injuries she’d seen and too panicked to know where to begin.
Was that normal?
Had other doctors found themselves in the same situation? Charlotte walked up to her, carrying some equipment. ‘Slick, isn’t he?’
Katy helped her lift it into the boot of the car. ‘He’s very confident.’
‘Well, that’s because he knows what he’s doing.’ Charlotte slammed the boot shut. ‘He’s ferociously intelligent and he never loses his cool.’
Except with her.
Katy walked round the car and slid into the passenger seat, relieved to get out of the rain.
What would happen now? He’d been waiting for signs that she couldn’t cope with trauma work and unfortunately she’d now given him all the ammunition he needed. The way he’d looked at her had left her in absolutely no doubt that he’d noticed her horrified reaction. Hardly an impressive response for a doctor who was beginning a career in accident and emergency medicine, she thought, frustrated beyond belief by what she perceived as her own weakness.
Her first experience of on-scene trauma and she’d panicked and behaved like a frightened rabbit.
He had every right to be impatient with her.
As she and Charlotte drove back towards the hospital, she pondered on the outcome of the inevitable encounter. He’d said that if she couldn’t prove herself then she’d be out.
So what would happen now?
CHAPTER FIVE
JAGO heard the tap on the door of his office and looked up from his computer with a frown.
He’d had a long and trying day and technically he was now off duty so he hadn’t been expecting visitors.
Katy stood in the doorway, her blue eyes wary as she watched him from the doorway.
She looked tired and incredibly nervous.
He sat back in his chair, his eyes suddenly watchful, his senses on full alert. Why was she nervous? She was looking at him the way a baby impala looked at a hungry lion at lunchtime.
She closed the door behind her and cleared her throat. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ Faint streaks of colour touched her cheekbones and for a disturbing moment he had an all too clear recollection of the way she’d looked after he’d finally made love to her the first time.
Flushed, round-eyed, softly feminine and in awe of him—much the way she was looking right now.
He felt his body harden in response and he felt a rush of anger at his own inability to control his reactions around her.
‘I’m in the middle of something so I’d appreciate it if you could make it quick.’
He saw her flinch but steeled himself against feeling sympathy, reminding himself that she wasn’t as gentle and innocent as she seemed.
As he’d discovered to his cost.
‘I just wanted to apologise for earlier,’ she said quietly, her fingers digging into her palms. ‘I was useless out there. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry …’
He was so utterly captivated by her soft mouth that it took him a moment to understand what she was talking about.
The accident. He shook himself slightly. She was talking about the accident.
‘You weren’t useless.’ He resolutely pushed away memories of all that stunning blonde hair spread over the soft grass as he’d rolled her underneath him on a baking summer’s day eleven years earlier.
‘I wasn’t prepared for the injury to be so severe,’ she confessed shakily. ‘I—I’ve never attended the scene of an accident before. I didn’t know what to do, and I’m sorry.’
He sat back in his chair, suddenly understanding why she was so nervous. Hadn’t he warned her on her first day that if she didn’t perform she’d be out? She was afraid that her shocked reaction to her first exposure to major trauma at the roadside would count against her.
She was afraid that he was going to get rid of her.
And that had certainly been his intention when he’d first realised that she was going to be working in his department.
He hadn’t thought she’d last five minutes.
He hadn’t wanted her to last five minutes.
And he’d been incredibly hard on her. Harder on her than any other doctor in his team.
And she’d surprised him. So far she’d proved herself to be thorough and competent, and he’d observed on several occasions that her warmth had a calming influence on the most fractious patient.
He felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt as he reflected on the way he’d treated her since she’d arrived in the department.
‘I took you along because I thought you might learn something and because every A and E doctor should have an idea of what the paramedics deal with on a daily basis.’ He saw her soft lips part and was suddenly glad that he was sitting behind the desk. At least she wouldn’t be aware of the effect she had on him. ‘You were there as an observer. I had no expectations of you as a doctor.’
She stood in silence, watching him warily. She was obviously still expecting an explosion. ‘I shouldn’t have reacted like that, but I just wasn’t prepared for how scary it would be, dealing with a patient at the scene of the accident. I’m used to having masses of medical back-up.’
She obviously felt she’d let herself down badly, which wasn’t true at all. He’d seen doctors with many more years’ experience than her suddenly freeze at the scene of a serious accident.
It was something to do with the almost overwhelming sense of responsibility that came with being first on the scene.
‘Just stick to A and E and don’t become a paramedic,’ he suggested dryly, and then turned back to his computer, hoping that she’d take the hint and leave him alone.
She didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath, steeling herself to ask the question that had clearly been worrying her. ‘You said I ought to be a GP or go back to paediatrics. Do you still think I’ll make a bad A and E doctor?’
He felt another twinge of guilt. It was his fault that she was asking the question.
‘No. You’re a good A and E doctor.’
Surprisingly good.
‘But you said—’
‘I know what I said. I was angry with you.’
His blunt admission didn’t evoke the response he expected. Instead of signs of guilt, she looked confused and taken aback. As if he had no right to be angry.
He had to hand it to her, she was an excellent actress.
She was starting to make him