Tempted By The Brooding Surgeon. Karin Baine
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“Are you prepared to work late tonight, if we have to, Dr. Richards? You look a little tired from your stressful travels.”
“How sweet of you to worry about me, Dr. Ferrera,” she said in a sarcastic tone. “No need, though. I may look like a hag, but I’m not tired at all. I’ll work as late as is needed.”
“Good. Because now we’re more than a day behind schedule, as you know.”
“I do know.” A near snarl curled her lip as she turned back to the equipment.
Hag? Now, that was a word no one could ever apply to Annabelle Richards, curled lip or not. Daniel studied the mutinous expression on her face as she diligently avoided looking at him, and couldn’t deny that, for some reason, her take-no-prisoners attitude and spunk was as appealing as the sweet smile in her blue eyes and on her lush lips that appeared as she turned to their small patient. He couldn’t deny that, for a split second, thoughts of what it would feel like to kiss that seductive mouth had scorched his brain just as it had the first time he’d seen her five years ago. It annoyed the hell out of him.
Gorgeous, sexy and sassy didn’t have anything to do with good medical skills, and he figured that her beauty had probably helped her advance in her career when she shouldn’t have. When he’d blocked her getting a permanent position five years ago at the hospital where he still worked, two of the upper-level hospital administrators had stepped in and gone to bat for her. He still believed her good looks, with serious curves in all the right places, had been part of why they’d wanted to keep her around.
Regardless, Daniel was the best cardiac surgeon at the hospital, and when he’d stated with no room for discussion that he’d never work with her again, they’d known he’d meant it. No one wanted to have to dance around that kind of scheduling nightmare, so off she’d gone in a matter of weeks.
Had he thought about her a few times afterward? For whatever reason, he couldn’t deny that he had. For a few months after she’d left, when he’d closed his eyes at night, he’d sometimes seen her face and lips. Her silky blond hair falling to her shoulders in soft waves. That body of hers, which any man would salivate over. He didn’t think the strangeness of his random thoughts about her were from any guilt over getting her fired. No, he’d figured it must be a sign that he’d been working too hard. Needed to let off steam with someone he knew was interested in only that and not any other kind of relationship, since he could never offer anything long term.
Yes, he’d thought about Annabelle Richards, but had he ever regretted blocking her from getting the permanent position? Not for one second. There was no room for error in surgery. He knew that better than anyone, and on the rare occasions he got pushback from someone on his medical team for his perfectionist attitudes, he thought of his brother and stood his ground.
His brother’s cardiac surgeon simply hadn’t been careful enough during the delicate surgery he’d needed, and if he had been, Gabriel would still be here, joking with Daniel, pushing the boundaries with their parents and grandparents, living his life at one hundred percent velocity like he always had until the day he’d died.
The loss had torn Daniel up. Had left a painful, gaping hole in his family, and he had no desire to ever forget how that felt.
Remembering his brother gave him the strength and resolution to be the kind of surgeon he had to be. To insist that everyone be on top of their game for every single patient. Every single time. He and his team owed it to his patients, and to the people who loved them, to give every one of them the best possible care available, and that included the nursing staff and the anesthesiologist.
The patient Dr. Annabelle Richards had nearly killed five years ago during surgery had suffered from exactly the same heart condition as Gabriel. No way had he wanted her to work as the anesthesiologist on his team.
And yet here she was. So what was he going to do about it? Mission hospital or not, he owed every single patient the best surgical outcome he could obtain with the tools that he had at hand. Dr. Annabelle Richards would not be the person who lowered that standard.
Daniel yanked down his surgical mask, gave their patient one more careful check over, asked him if he felt okay, and reassured him that he’d be visiting with him in Recovery when he felt better. Stripping off his gloves, he moved out of the OR to see the next patient coming in. He checked the diagnostic work and the seriousness of the six-month-old’s situation. Stuck his head into the small, spartan waiting room crammed with patients before talking with the local woman juggling the surgery schedule to see how many children they could see that day.
Whoever the anesthesiologist was on each mission, they often accompanied him on these quick rounds. But Dr. Richards had chosen to stay back in the OR, probably to tinker with her all-important monitor.
Having her work as anesthesiologist for the next few days’ surgeries was the only option to ensure that everyone on the docket got taken care of. But as soon as he had a moment free? He’d be looking for a replacement for Annabelle Richards.
DAWN CREPT MISTILY across the mountains as Daniel stepped outside the hotel where the medical team was staying, sipping hot coffee obtained from the large urn in the foyer. He savored the taste of it on his tongue, letting the flavor of the locally grown arabica linger there, along with memories of his childhood. He and his brother had always loved the stuff, and he smiled, remembering sending Gabriel to sneak into the kitchen in the morning to pour both of them a cup, heaping them with cream and sugar.
Daniel had been more of a rule follower than his twin, but when it had been to his benefit, he’d been happy to take advantage of his brother’s mischievous, more daring nature. Sometimes that had involved sports and adventures, sometimes it had been stealing desserts or coffee or other things they weren’t supposed to have, straight from under their nanny’s or parents’ noses.
He took another swig of the hot brew. Straight black was the way he liked it now, giving him a much-needed caffeine jolt after having worked late into the night before getting busy making phone calls to acquaintances at various hospitals who might know of an accomplished anesthesiologist who’d be available and willing to work at the mission hospital for the next two weeks.
With any luck one of the people recommended would be willing to take over Annabelle Richards’s small shoes. He knew she’d be furious and, to his complete surprise, a niggle of discomfort over his phone calls briefly poked at him, knowing she’d given her vacation time to this trek and gone through a lot of effort to get here against the odds. There was also the undeniable fact that throughout yesterday’s surgeries she’d been utterly competent and professional.
But that didn’t mean that she always would be. He had no idea if she’d grown as a doctor, and he reminded himself, again, that it was critical to have only the best anesthesiologist available for the kinds of complicated heart surgeries they performed here.
But maybe there was some compromise to be found. Maybe he should suggest she work in a different mission while she was in Peru, rather than sending her back to the United States when he found a replacement. There were several clinics in poor parts of the country that were only occasionally open to patients. Clinics that did far less complicated surgeries than he’d be doing. Surgeries that didn’t take six or eight hours to accomplish, and weren’t life-threatening. She could