Page 11 of Healing Her

Ashley was jolted out of her circling thoughts at the touch of a gentle hand between her legs. “Oh!”

“You think too much,” City advised, smiling. “I can fix that.”

But City hadn’t, in fact, fixed it.

Oh, she’d given her all in the pursuit of Ashley’s pleasure. Pulled out a whole bag of tricks all night. But then Ashley had gone into work. And of course, the first person she saw was Jen Colton, smiling and chatting with the kid at the coffee cart in the Oakridge lobby.

To her absolute fury and mortification, she wondered what color panties Jen was wearing today. They’d been pink, that evening in the lounge. She’d caught a glimpse when she’d leapt back at the sound of the door opening, before Jen could pull her skirt down.

Cheeks burning, Ashley put her head down and made a beeline for the elevator bank. She was desperate for caffeine, but there was no way she could approach the coffee cart now. The cafeteria was out simply because the coffee there was terrible, and she’d been avoiding the surgeon’s lounge for a week. Her only remaining choice was a Diet Coke from the vending machine on the surgery ward floor. It was a poor substitute, but it was her only choice. Ashley squirmed her way onto the first available elevator and rubbed at her pounding temples.

“Rough night?” The cheery, mocking voice of Priya Majumdar was grating on already abraded nerves. Ashley liftedher head and shot a glare at the oncology surgeon. To her annoyance, Dr. Majumdar not only didn’t recoil from the glare, her grin seemed to get wider, as if she were rejoicing in Ashley’s clear misery.Great.

She ignored everyone during the elevator ride, ducking her head again and keeping it down as she exited onto the surgery floor. Much to her dismay, she felt a firm hand on her elbow and almost stumbled as she was pulled into a conference room. “Hey?—”

“Doctor Proctor, I’m sorry for the sudden ambush.” Chief Sundstrom looked harassed, his gray-blonde hair sticking out in all directions and his forehead more rumpled than usual. “A situation has come up. I’ve been waiting for you to come in.”

Guilt flooded Ashley, even though she knew she wasn’t late. She didn’t have a surgery on the board until later in the afternoon. Yet she still felt like a teenager sneaking in ten minutes late for English class. “I’m sorry, Chief. How can I help you?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing to be sorry for, there’s no trouble, exactly. But we have a patient who came in early this morning, a very delicate heart case. Elaine and I discussed it and we want you to take the lead on it.”

“Oh, certainly, of course.” Ashley frowned. Why wouldn’t Elaine want to take the lead?

Chief Sundstrom seemed to understand her concern. “It’s not only a delicate case in terms of what needs to be done; it’s a case that will require absolute discretion. Doctor Martin and I both trust you implicitly in this regard. You’ll handle it privately and you’ll do your finest job with the actual surgery.”

Her interest was thoroughly piqued at this point. “Well, Chief, you’ve certainly got my attention. Can I know more?”

“Absolutely. Come with me.” Opening the door to the conference room, he poked his head out and peered around.Seeing that the coast was clear, he beckoned for her to follow him.

They moved in silence through the surgery floor towards the back bank of service elevators typically used for patient transport. In the elevator, Ashley was surprised to see Chief Sundstrom punch the button and swipe his ID badge for the hospital’s tenth floor. This was the private VIP floor of the hospital, where only very private and usually very wealthy or famous—or both—patients were cared for. She’d only been on the floor twice in her entire career at Oakridge Hospital, once assisting Elaine on a quadruple bypass for a California congressman and once taking point on a stent insertion for a popular actor in action films. And both of those had been years ago.

“Your badge will be updated in the system to grant you access to this floor,” the Chief advised as the floors ticked by. “And you’ll have full leeway to choose ninety-eight percent of your surgical team. Scrub nurses, assisting physicians, anesthetists, all of it. Well, most of it,” he amended at the end.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “ninety-eight percent?”

“I’ll explain more after this meeting, if it doesn’t become clear.” The elevator doors slid open, and he set off down the hallway at a brisk trot.

Ashley followed along, taking in her surroundings. The VIP floor didn’t look like any other floor in the hospital. No traces of white paint or beige plastic here, no sir. This floor looked like an upscale hotel, with walnut paneling and brass uplighters with pleated linen shades. Where normally there would be tall, beige-painted rolling cabinets with drawers holding masks, gowns, and other protective gear, on this floor there were only small, polished walnut bureaus stationed outside of the door of each room.

Even the cleaning and nursing staff on the floor were clad differently. Instead of the hospital’s regular pale blue and drab green scrubs, they were all in getups that hardly resembled scrubs at all, but looked more like sleek, high-end workout gear. The nurses wore a burgundy color as deep as a fine Bordeaux wine, their orderlies were dressed in navy blue, and the cleaning staff wore a pleasant mint green that struck Ashley as impractical given their line of work, but nobody had consulted her.

This floor obviously cost a lot of money to run, but then, it did bring in a significant amount of it as well. She supposed this was a clear case of spending money to make money.

Chief Sundstrom paused by a closed door. “This patient prefers a very calm, quiet environment—another reason Elaine and I wanted you on board. You are… well,typicallyyou are our most unshakable surgeon.”

The unspoken rebuke was clear in his awkward pause, and Ashley’s face burned once again. The Chief hadn’t called her into his office to talk about her explosion at Dr. Colton in the week and a half since it had happened, but obviously he knew about it. How embarrassing. “I appreciate your trust in me,” she said, drawing her shoulders back to stand up straight. Somehow, she even managed to look him directly in the eyes. “There won’t be any problems.”

“Hmm,” was all he said, but before she could wonder what it meant, he had the door pushed open and was striding into the room with a wide, beaming smile on his face. “Ms. Rivera, how are you today?”

The answer, delivered by a throaty, sexy, whiskey-and-cigarettes voice that was shockingly familiar, was amused. “Well, Steve, you promised to send me some strapping young men to help me with my sponge bath, but all I’ve gotten is a pinch-facednurse named Gertrude.” A deep, rich chuckle. “She was very thorough, though, I’ll say that for her.”

“Well, we’ll see if we can’t adjust the situation to be more to your liking.” The Chief, too, chuckled, and then turned to beckon Ashley into the room. “Ms. Rivera, I wanted you to meet the surgeon that’ll be managing your care from here on out. This is Doctor Ashley Proctor. She’s our best cardiothoracic surgeon. Doctor Proctor, this is Maria Rivera.”

Ashley stepped forward, unable to believe what she was seeing. Propped up in a plush, state-of-the-art hospital bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows, was one of Hollywood’s greatest actresses and her very first crush.

Maria Rivera’s huge, dark eyes, liquid with promise and able to speak as eloquently as she did on the big screen, danced with good humor. Her arresting smile was still a magical spell that sent sparkly thrills down Ashley’s spine. And not for Maria Rivera was the plain white cotton Oakridge hospital gown with blue polka dots, no; the two-time Oscar winner was wrapped in a stunning green silk velvet lounging robe that Ashley just knew felt like wearing a lapful of Persian kittens.

But once the initial thrill wore off, Ashley could see that the woman was in seriously advanced heart failure. It wasn’t only the nasal cannula that gave it away, of course. Maria’s skin, usually a healthy sun-kissed tan on screen, had taken on a pasty pallor. Her nailbeds were faintly blue, as were her lips, despite the constant oxygen flow. And while she was still an extremely beautiful woman at the age of 57, she looked drawn and tired, and her captivating sparkle was dulled.

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