It couldn’t be. But it was.
Jake. Her Jake. Her one-night-stand-Jake was here. At Chicago Care.
The flare of shock reflected in his gaze almost made her feel better. At least she wasn’t the only one knocked off balance. But then she noticed the name on his ID badge and the sick feeling in her gut returned.
Great. Just what she needed. Not only was Jake a doctor here at the hospital. He was Dr. Holt. The attending physician on duty. And Chief of Trauma Surgery!
The man she’d impulsively spent the night with was the man who could make or break her career.
CHAPTER TWO
JAKE could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Hannah wearing light blue scrubs and a long white lab coat, her long blonde hair pulled back in some sort of fancy braid. Dr. Stewart. The name on her ID tag mocked him.
Hannah—the girl he’d seen on the sailboat wearing the bright yellow bikini—was an intern? A first-year surgical resident? Here at Chicago Care?
A stab of betrayal hit hard.
She’d known all along exactly who he was.
Hard to believe he was stupid enough to have made the same mistake twice in one lifetime, but he had. Swallowing the lump of bitterness in the back of his throat, he forced himself to keep his attention on the task at hand. There was a seriously injured patient needing their assistance, so this was hardly the time, or the place, to call Hannah out on her behavior.
But she’d certainly played her role well, that’s for sure. He’d taken the bait, falling for the ploy without once considering he’d been set up.
Tearing his gaze away from hers, he glanced down at the patient. “Order a stat chest X-ray to verify this tube placement,” he said to the nurse. “And I also want a full set of labs.”
The nurse headed for the nearest phone.
When he turned back toward Hannah, he noticed she was continuing her trauma assessment as another nurse drew the blood. Clearly, Hannah wasn’t nearly as shocked to see him as he was to recognize her.
“His lung sounds are very diminished on the right side,” Hannah said, pulling the stethoscope from her ears. “And his belly is tense, no bowel sounds present. He probably has a head injury, seeing as he’s still unconscious. So far, though, his pupils are equal and reactive.”
Trying very hard not to remember what she’d looked like naked, he gave a curt nod. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”
“Get a CT of his head, chest and abdomen, continue to monitor his neuro status closely.”
“Fine. Let me know as soon as you have some diagnostic results.” He moved away, intending to check on the second patient in the motor-vehicle crash. Richard was assisting the other female intern, Dr. Barkley, with that one, and from what he could tell, they had the patient under control.
Hannah’s patient was by far the sicker of the two.
“Dr. Holt?” Hannah’s familiar husky voice caused a reaction deep down, making him grind his teeth in frustration. He refused to be made a fool of again.
“What?” he snapped.
“The chest X-ray has been completed, but his abdomen is growing more tense by the minute,” she said, pulling aside the hospital gown to show him. “I think he’s bleeding internally. Do you want me to perform a peritoneal lavage?”
He didn’t want to be impressed by her sharp assessment skills, or the way she managed to remain calm in the middle of a crisis. “Have you done one before?”
“Yes.” Even as she responded, Hannah pulled out the peritoneal-lavage tray and began prepping the patient. If she was nervous, she didn’t let on. Once the patient’s skin was prepped, she pulled on a pair of sterile gloves and then carefully measured two centimeters above the umbilicus. Using the scalpel, she made a quick incision.
“Nice job,” he said, before he could stop himself. Once she’d deftly inserted the catheter, she opened up the IV of fluid and then watched, as he did, for the results. He wasn’t surprised she’d been right, when bloody drainage came flowing out. “Guess this guy has earned a trip to the O.R.”
Hannah’s eyes widened a bit. “Right now?”
“As soon as possible. But we need to know the status of his labs before we go anywhere.”
“His hemoglobin is low at ten,” one of the nurses reported. “And he’s not oxygenating very well, either, with a PO two of seventy-eight.”
“Transfuse two units of blood now, and then make sure he has four units of blood on hand at all times.”
“I bet he’s bleeding from a liver laceration,” Hannah said.
“Why do you think that? Why not his spleen?” he challenged.
“His spleen could be the source of his bleeding, but he was on the driver’s side and wearing his seat belt, which means most of the pressure would have been on the right side, over his liver.” Hannah kept her gaze focused on the bloody drainage coming out of the peritoneal catheter as she spoke. “If the injury had been lower, his bowel might be affected, but in that case, we’d likely see intestinal contents mixed in with the blood.”
As much as it annoyed him, he agreed with her. “Yes, we would.”
“So he might need a liver resection?” Hannah asked.
“Possibly, but that depends on the source of the bleeding. Could be a blood vessel and not the organ itself.” He glanced at the nurse. “Where’s the chest X-ray?”
“Right here, Dr. Holt.”
Jake glanced at the chest X-ray one of the nurses pulled up on the computer monitor at the bedside. He frowned and gestured to it. “And what do you see here?”
“A pneumothorax in the right lower lobe.” Hannah finally looked directly at him, her blue gaze seriously intent. “He needs a chest tube before he goes to the O.R.”
“Have you done one?”
There was the slightest hesitation. “I’ve assisted with one,” she murmured.
He was tempted to put the damn thing in himself, but this was a teaching institution and he was obligated to at least give her a chance. “I’ll talk you through it,” he said.
Hannah was already getting the supplies ready. Once the chest-tube insertion tray was open and ready to go, Hannah prepped the right side of their patient’s chest and then picked up the scalpel. She made a one-inch incision between the fourth and fifth ribs, but it was too shallow.
“You’ll need to go deeper in order to get through the cartilage,” he instructed, coming up behind her, to once again peer over her shoulder as she worked.
He hadn’t known who she was when he’d helped her intubate this very same patient, but now it seemed as if every
