he said quietly, ignoring the silent exchange. “Did the EMTs say how it happened?”
A flush stained her cheeks and she grimaced before sucking in a steadying breath. In the blink of an eye she was once again the cool, collected physician. “Apparently a plate glass window fell on him,” she reported briskly, with only the barest hint of a tremor.
“Is it a crush injury?”
“No,” she clipped out. “Fairly clean. I...uh... I had to clamp the brachial artery to raise his pressure but I’m not sure how much longer he can wait for surgery.”
She’d made the right call. He nodded to the cooler on a nearby trolley. “What’s the condition of the arm?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look but the EMT said it’s intact.”
He lifted the blood-soaked compression bandage and noticed that a clamp had been applied to the end of the artery. After a quick assessment of the splintered edges of the bone, he gave a short nod as he turned to head for the door.
“Take X-rays of both sections and bring him up as soon as he’s ready. We’ll be waiting.”
On his way up to surgery, he punched in a number on his phone.
“Kate,” he said, when the doctor answered on the third ring. “It’s Dylan—how soon can you get to OR?”
“About twenty minutes to a half-hour, why?”
“I need your needlepoint skills for a replantation.”
The older doctor gave a low laugh. “I’m not on call, Dylan.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But when a kid loses his arm you’re my go-to vascular. I need you on my team.”
He heard her suck in a sharp breath. “A kid? Please don’t tell me it’s a crush injury.”
He pressed the button to call for the elevator. “It’s not a crush injury. A sheet of plate glass lopped off his arm an inch above the elbow. There’s some damage, obviously but it should be straightforward.”
He heard her sigh. “All right—start without me. I’m on my way.”
While he waited for the elevator, he paged the on-call vascular surgeon, as well as a plastic surgeon. Once the elevator arrived he stepped inside, his mind already on the procedure ahead rather than the woman he’d left in the ER.
There would be time enough later to think about his reaction to seeing her again—that one-two punch he’d taken to the chest when those startled gray eyes had locked with his. She’d looked stunned and flustered, as though she hadn’t expected to see him again. And a bit dismayed—which she hadn’t been quick enough to conceal.
He’d felt kind of stunned himself and it wasn’t because one glance into those smoky eyes had dropped the bottom out of his gut. What the hell had that been about?
No, he assured himself, he’d just been surprised. Surprised at finding her directing proceedings without any trace of the charming clumsiness she’d displayed at their first meeting. Yep—just surprise at finding her without even trying, he told himself.
It couldn’t possibly be that when he’d seen her something deep inside him had stilled and said, There you are.
Because that would be crazy when there wasn’t a hint of insanity in his family tree.
* * *
When the elevator doors opened, Dani and the RN pushed the gurney out and rushed it down the hallway to Surgery. She’d left Amy behind in the ER, taking care of their little patient’s distraught mother, who’d arrived just as they were getting into the elevator.
Seeing her baby lying almost lifeless on the large, adult-sized bed had been almost too much for pregnant Christine Nolan. Dani had told Amy to give her something to calm her down before they had two patients on their hands.
The instant they pushed the gurney through the swing doors an OR nurse grabbed the cooler. “Room Four,” she rapped out briskly. “They’re waiting.”
They quickly maneuvered down the passage to where a scrub nurse was holding the doors open, and even as she released the gurney Dani found her gaze drawn, despite herself, to the team gathered around the wall screen, studying the X-rays she’d taken ten minutes earlier.
Or rather her gaze was drawn inexorably toward one team member in particular.
As though sensing her presence, he turned, his gaze locking unerringly on to her. She ignored the way her pulse leapt at the sight of him, standing head and shoulders above everyone else in the room. Already dressed in his surgical scrubs, gowned and bandanna-ed, Dr. Hot-and-Hunky looked as if he owned his universe.
And was ready to rock hers.
Her face burned with mortification at the memory of their last two encounters and she hoped she could keep from humiliating herself a third time. What must he be thinking? she wondered. First, that she was clumsy and blurted out whatever came into her head; and second that she’d heard that deep bedroom voice of his and everything in her had come to a screeching halt.
She’d looked up into moss-green eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes and her mind had gone blank as a slate. And then he’d asked her about the wound and she’d replied with something so inane even a second-year med student would have blinked.
She just hoped no one had noticed and cringed because she knew everyone had. Especially him. Oh God, she thought as a fresh wave of embarrassment crawled up the back of her neck. She’d stood there frozen as if she was a teenager again and had found herself face to face with the hottest bad boy in school.
Realizing she was still standing there, Dani spun away to make a quick escape. She was almost through the doors when his voice—deep and dark and sinful—reached her.
“Dr. Stevens?”
Tempted to ignore him, she shoved aside the primitive urge to run and turned slowly, giving herself time to school her expression. She was a thirty-year-old professional, she reminded herself. She sucked in a steadying breath, hoping he couldn’t see her inner chaos and terrified because she’d never been any good at hiding her emotions.
She just hoped she could keep her mouth from blurting out embarrassing inanities. “Yes?”
His gaze swept over her face to linger on her mouth and for one horrifying instant she thought he would mention their first meeting or...or even worse...ask about her unprofessional behavior in the ER.
Actually, no. Worse would be that he somehow knew that her first impulse had been to check her hair and straighten her posture. Fortunately she’d done neither. Unfortunately she’d embarrassed herself and surprised her colleagues by staring at him as though he’d popped through a tear in the space time continuum dressed like a Roman centurion.
Heck, even that wouldn’t have shocked her as much.
He lifted a hand and, startled, she jerked back a couple of steps until her back hit the wall, her eyes wide. Embarrassment crawled up the back of her neck when she realized he was just scratching his jaw.
