Page 10 of Sinful in Scrubs

It had started off as an innocent collaboration between colleagues. At least that’s what I told myself. He said he was interested in my technique. The techniques Kevin was interested in had nothing to do with emergency room surgery and everything to do with positions in the bedroom, in the office, and positions behind that tree over there in a very crowded park.

“No, really, come on, Emma. Who’s gonna notice?”

God, Kevin had been smooth, and I had fallen for it. He reeled me in like a landed fish—hook, line, and sinker. I flopped right into his hand. He barely needed bait, which is why it was so easy for him to manipulate me. He had me eating out of the palm of his hand. He had me wrapped around his finger. He had every single metaphor and cliché that I could think of, because I thought I was in love with him.

No, because I thought he was in love with me. I was in love with him.

I didn’t have to think about it. I knew it. I knew it with every fiber of my being, from my split ends to my toenails. I had been so in love with that man, and he played me like a maestro playing a two-hundred-year-old violin—with expertise, precision, and just the right amount of vibrato to make me sing.

I even believed him when he told me I was so smart that it was a good thing we hadn’t gone to the same med school.

“You would have intimidated the hell out of me with your brain,” he had said.

Of course, he said that while we were naked, and no one was using their brains at that moment. So, I believed him. I believed him so thoroughly, it almost cost me that kid.

I had been elbow-deep in surgery, needing to clamp off a bleeder. Kevin was in for observations, or at least that was his excuse to the administration. He had told me he just loved to watch me work. One casual little remark of his had me second-guessing myself. There I was, poised to make a major surgical move that would save the kid’s life. It needed to be done, and it needed to be done fast, but I hesitated because his words had me thinking I was wrong.

I remember so clearly looking up at him, our eyes locking. Even though I could only see his eyes, the way he twitched his eyebrows in that oh-so-cocky expression told me exactly what he was thinking beneath his face mask. He thought he had won one more round.

This wasn’t a game. This was a kid’s life, and the only person who needed to win that day was the patient.

“Ah, fuck it,” I said loudly and changed direction.

“Emma, are you sure that’s what you?—”

“Shut it, Dr. Thompson.”

I proceeded to save that child’s life. If I had followed Kevin’s direction, would that kid have survived? I don’t know. But I didn’t think they would have. If they had survived that surgery, someone would have been cracking them open again to fix what hadn’t been done right the first time. Instead, they were taken care of and fixed properly.

So when Dr. Marcus Walker came sauntering up to tell me that we needed incoming trauma protocols, I didn’t see him at first. I didn’t see his flashing blue eyes, his shock of silver hair against tanned skin, or his sharp jawline. No, I saw that same damn cocky-ass expression and sandy hair that belonged to a different man entirely.

It felt like Kevin was back in town, making me question myself.

And I did not like it. Not one bit. And just as suddenly, I was overwhelmed by everything that wasn’t Kevin. I went from being on the defense because of an old memory to being on the defense because I wanted to be helpless around Marcus Walker. I kept my spine as straight as I could and walked directly from that unsettling interaction with Dr. Walker to the nurse’s station.

“What happened yesterday with Dr. Walker?” I asked Rosa Hernandez.

“I didn’t think anything happened,” she replied, tilting her head. “Why?”

“He mentioned something about needing incoming procedures for patients. I’m just wondering what about yesterday’s situation didn’t meet his expectations.”

Rosa frowned. “I don’t know. We were going over charting procedures when the call came in. He seemed to understand fully that triage disseminates all information to all concerned parties at once. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me.”

I bit my lip and thought for a second. “What do we know about him?”

Rosa shrugged. “Nothing. You’d have to talk to administration.”

“You know where he came from?”

“You mean his military past?” she asked. “He seems to let everyone know about that.”

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “He came here from another hospital, right?”

“Oh, that.” She shrugged again. “Haven’t really had a chance to talk to him around the water cooler, if you know what I mean.”

I knew exactly what she meant. She didn’t actually care where he came from or what his work history had been. As long as he showed up, did his job, and didn’t tell her how to do hers, she didn’t much care. She left, and I turned to talk to another one of the nurses.

“Can I help you, Doctor?” one of the nurses asked.

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