and she wasn’t happy about it.
One thing Liz could readily admit to with Dr. Smith, though, was how thorough he was.
“Hey, Kaitlin,” he said, in that deep, calm voice, while checking her pupils. “My name is Dr. Smith. I’m going to be examining you, okay?”
“I shot him.”
Cort continued his methodical examination, working his way down to the two penetrating wounds on Kaitlin’s thorax.
“They look to be at least two inches deep,” Liz said, as he started palpating the area around the first wound. “And that one seems to angle downward.”
Having examined both the anterior wounds, he merely said, “Roll her,” so he could examine the posterior one.
Once he was through, he moved back to the head of the table and leaned over the patient. “Kaitlin, I’m going to have to operate. You have internal injuries that have to be repaired. We’ll take good care of you, okay?”
Kaitlin’s gaze flickered to Cort’s face, and stayed there for a moment. Then, surprisingly, she said, “Okay. Okay.”
“Good girl,” he replied, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze.
The shock must be wearing off, thanks to the drip, Liz thought a little sourly. How else to explain his ability to get through to their patient when she hadn’t been able to at all?
With a little jerk of his head, Cort beckoned Liz to the far side of the room, out of Kaitlin’s earshot.
“I want her to have a CT scan before I go in. She seems stable enough to take the time, and I’ll have a better idea of what I’m facing before I open her up.”
“I’ll call up to Radiology right now,” Liz replied. “And I’ll go up with her.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a half smile. “I’ll keep an eye on her vitals while you’re gone.”
As she turned away to go to the phone, Liz was annoyed with herself all over again.
Why was it his smiles, even half ones, made her want to smile back? She wasn’t the smiling type at all, and yet something about him made her almost wish she were.
She’d been careful to keep him firmly at arm’s length and act with the utmost professionalism toward him, determined to eventually exorcise the hyperawareness she experienced around him. It was aggravating in the extreme that the rest of the Hepplewhite staff seemed equally determined to keep Cort in the center of the gossip mill, and she could hardly move without hearing someone say his name.
Just that morning, when she’d been in the line at the cafeteria, there had been a couple of nurses in front of her talking about him, as though there was nothing else of any interest to chat about.
“He’s been here for a while, what have you been able to find out about him?”
Liz knew who Marcie was talking about even before Trisha answered.
“Nothing but what I was able to find in the Cramer General website archives. Served in the army and got his training through it. Honorably discharged about five years ago and went straight to Cramer.”
“That’s it? Do we even know if he’s married or not?”
Trisha shook her head, disgruntlement clear in her tone when she replied, “He’s real nice, but a clam when it comes to talking about himself.”
“Even with you, Miss Southern Charm?” Marcie snickered. “I’m surprised you don’t have him spilling his guts over some sweet potato pie and a mint julep.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Trisha replied, as she elbowed her friend and they both laughed.
Liz too was surprised that Trisha hadn’t had any luck. The nurse was petite, almost elfin, with the most beautiful dark mocha complexion and the face of an angel. Plus, she had the kind of voice Liz remembered, as a teen, wishing she had. It was as sweet and light as fresh whipped cream, not low and raspy, like its owner subsisted on a diet of rusty nails and rye whiskey. Mind you, a voice like Trisha’s would sound pretty stupid coming from her, who was almost a foot taller and nowhere near petite.
As she relayed Cort’s request to Radiology, she resolved once more do something about how often she thought about him, dreamed about being with him in Mexico. She was loath to admit it, even to herself, but he’d turned her inside out that night, given her an experience she’d never had before.
Maybe because of her forthright nature, men seemed to assume she’d be demanding in bed and, since it was the best way to get the satisfaction she deserved, she usually was. However, Cort Smith had taken masterful control of her body, coaxing her to new erotic heights and making her have to reevaluate what it was she truly desired. When she’d snuck out of his room in the early hours of the morning, it hadn’t just been because she’d had a flight to catch. She’d been awash in pleasure so intense as to be frightening.
There was no secret enjoyment in the fact she knew more about the sexy doctor than anyone else at the hospital. Intimate facts that still made her skin heat and her libido go through the roof. Instead, the knowledge she possessed just made working with him harder. Trying to view him just as a colleague was difficult in the extreme, but she was determined to do just that.
Hopefully, the more she had to interact with him, the more likely the annoying attraction she still felt would wither away.
“There.” Cort pointed to where the CT images of Kaitlin’s body were on the screen. “Definite laceration to the liver. And...” He was aware of Liz leaning closer, her attention focused on the movement of his finger, and for a split second lost his train of thought.
“Is that fluid around the stomach?” she asked.
“And air,” he replied, pulling himself together. He was about to operate to try to save a young woman’s life. There was no time for loss of concentration, no matter the source. What he was seeing on the CT scan indicated the internal injuries were probably quite extensive.
And they were. What he had estimated would be an hour-long operation stretched to two and a half hours, as he discovered Kaitlin’s diaphragm and stomach, as well as her liver, had been damaged. As he cauterized and stitched, he reflected on how lucky the young woman had been.
He wasn’t really surprised to come out of surgery and see Liz waiting to hear the outcome. Yet as he took a few moments to take off his surgical gear and wash up, his awareness of her just on the other side of the doors was disconcerting.
Settling in at Hepplewhite, in New York City itself, had been difficult enough, but every time he came into contact with Dr. Liz Prudhomme it intensified his sense of disorientation. Which was funny, in a weird rather than amusing sort of way, since it was something she’d said to him in Mexico that had prompted his move from Colorado.
Although they’d just met, he’d found himself telling her about being jilted only weeks before the wedding. What she’d said to him had lingered in his mind.
Sometimes, when life seems to be screwed up, you need to take a chance on the change that’s been forced on you, you know? Figure out what it would take to make the crappy stuff into an asset, or a benefit. Maybe you’ve had a lucky escape,
