gave her a once-over. “Have you been crying? Your nose is red.”
“Sneezing.” Jan slipped an oversized nondescript-color OR gown over her loose scrubs as she studied the unnatural black hair of her supervisor. “So what’s up?” She nodded and listened distractedly.
“We’ll be accommodating a National Guard medic over the next month. He’s gearing up for another tour of duty and needs a quickie skills refresher course. He’ll be working under the umbrella of Dr. Riordan’s license and the agreement the hospital made with the National Guard. Any stitches, broken bones, chest tubes, intubations, gunshot wounds—you catch my drift—make sure the medic gets first dibs.”
Still distracted, rather than tying the straps of the OR gown, Jan stuffed them in her pocket with the letter. “What about the interns and residents? Aren’t they going to gripe?”
“Sure they are, but Gavin doesn’t give a patootie about that. He wants the medic to get first dibs.”
Jan inhaled and held her breath. She and Carmen exchanged knowing looks. No need to protest, the king of the ER had spoken. Once Gavin Riordan made up his mind about anything, it became emergency department law.
“Whatever,” Jan finally said on an exhalation.
Carmen used her high forehead as if it was a beacon light and nodded toward Dr. Riordan’s open office. A tall, fit-looking man in a police uniform with sculpted arms and a nearly shaved head was shaking hands with Dr. Riordan. Surprising and unwanted humming vibrated over the nerve endings in her spine. What was it about a man in a uniform?
The hair rose on the back of Jan’s neck as she went on alert. There was something about that profile, the line of his shoulders, his stance that put her on edge. “I thought you said he’s with the National Guard. That guy’s a cop.”
“He’s on the LAPD SWAT team, is a Special Forces trained medic, and also is on the National Guard, so I’m told.”
“Impressive. How can he work here and on the force at the same time?”
“He’s coming in on his days off and after hours.”
Some sixth sense sent a rush of blood from her suddenly pounding heart, making her cheeks get hot. She forced herself to act nonchalant. “Sounds pretty dedicated.”
“From what Gavin says, the guy’s proved himself through several tours of duty and is gearing up for another.”
At three-quarter view, a sharp brow line, deep-set, appraising eyes and a straight profile began to fill in the blanks on the missing person’s report in her head. Though his hair was closely cropped, the stubble looked dark. Almost black. Just like…
“Hmm. So when does he start?”
“Right now.”
With her eyes darting around the ED for places to hide—not that she was positive she knew him or anything, mostly it was an eerie feeling the mysterious cop dragged out of her—Jan made an about-face, planning to slink away and skulk in the background for the rest of her shift.
“Jan?” Gavin called her name, and any hope of keeping a low profile trickled away.
She adjusted her glasses and attempted to swallow a wad of cotton wedged in her throat as she went on guard, hoping the man wouldn’t recognize her, and turned. “Yes?”
Gavin swaggered across the room, steering along the newest addition to the ED. “This is Officer Beck Braxton.”
After a mini-implosion in her chest—it was him!—Jan nodded a cautious greeting and worked to conceal the unnerving reaction fizzing through her body. She didn’t offer to shake his hand. She couldn’t. Beck gave her a stealthy once-over, his mouth thinning into a polite straight line.
“He’s a highly trained field medic and needs to update his trauma skills. You’ve got your PA license, haven’t you, Beck?”
Beck shook his head. “Actually, I never got round to it before I joined SWAT.” So Beck had been a military field medic who was now a police officer on the special weapons and tactics team. Who would ever have thought?
“That’s a shame because, from what I’ve heard, you’ve got the knack.” Gavin shifted back to Jan. “I’ve already told him what a great nurse you are.” In a subversively charming way, Gavin smiled. He wasn’t kidding anyone, least of all her. He was merely blowing smoke up her stethoscope to soften her up before he dropped the bomb. “You’ll be assisting him tonight.”
Gulp. She fought back a cough. No way could she work with him.
“Wherever he goes, whatever he needs, you see to it he gets it. I’ve seen Beck work. He doesn’t need me breathing down his neck unless something big comes in.”
Dark brown hair, pale skin, lips ripe for kissing, hazel eyes that could make a girl do something she’d never planned—a face she’d never thought she’d see again.
Her mind drifted back to the couple in the parking lot. The last time she’d been swept off her feet by a kiss had been with Beck. A quick memory popped into her head of how her knees had buckled the first time he’d kissed her, and how he’d had to hold her up by backing her against the lockers in the school hallway. Standing before her was something much more disturbing than the high-school version. Beck had grown into a mature and dangerously attractive man, though he didn’t act as though he knew it.
Her stomach backflipped and stuck the landing with a quick punch of pain.
“Got it?” Gavin challenged.
Jan prayed that thirteen years, a name change, and an extreme make-over might throw Beck off her trail. No longer January Stewart, the popular high-school prom queen, now she was a once-divorced, radically toned-down version of her former self. Everything about her was different, from her last name to bobbed dark blond hair instead of long brash platinum waves cupping her waist. She wore glasses now instead of contacts, and had gained a handful of strategically placed pounds. He really shouldn’t recognize her. Should he?
“Got it,” she mumbled, wiping her nose with a tissue to disguise her face, her voice sounding gravelly from her tickling throat.
“Thanks,” Beck said. “And it’s nice to meet you.” Something flickered in his eyes when he reached for and shook her other hand. Recalling how his eye color could change from day to day depending on what he wore, she quickly looked away before her warming cheeks became too obvious, but not before she’d already noticed they were gray-blue today. His hand felt calloused, as if he was no stranger to hard work. That made sense for the street tough kid who’d always longed for adventure. Legions of awakening nerve endings marched up from her hand to her arm and fanned out across her shoulders.
A fond memory of how secure she’d once felt holding his hand flashed into her mind. She loosened her grip and let her hand slip free, anything to stop the reaction, but her mind refused to shut down.
Never in a million years would she ever have guessed he’d become a police officer. He’d done everything in his power to act like an outlaw in his teens, always getting into fights and not caring what anyone, including teachers, had to say.
Her lips tickled at the edges with the absurdity. But he’d never have dreamed she’d become a nurse, either. “Most likely to be a movie star.” Wasn’t that what her high-school annual had predicted for her? Heck, they’d even inserted a pair of sunglasses over one of her rare candid pictures with the caption, “Bright future. Must wear shades.”
Carmen strode around the ER desk and plopped a clipboard in Gavin’s hand. “Full moon’s apparently already rising. We’ve got a level-one trauma in transit. A gunshot wound. ETA five minutes,” she said with her usual aplomb.
Grateful for the distraction, Jan went on alert.
“Is this gang related?” Dr. Riordan asked.
“Not sure, but he fits the age range and the neighborhood.”