Hot Single Docs: Happily Ever After

Access was blocked by the tall, glass-fronted cabinets apart from the space where Anna was, beside the tills and the fruit baskets. There was a flap in the counter beside the last till where kitchen staff could go in and out with the trolleys of used dishes but Luke didn’t bother to stop and lift it. Or maybe he didn’t see it. He swept the baskets clear to send apples and oranges bouncing around the feet of those still standing motionless and then he vaulted the space, making the action seem effortless.

Kitchen staff were backing away hurriedly, but not quickly enough for Luke.

‘Move!’ he barked. ‘Clear the way. What’s happened?’

‘Over here,’ someone shouted. ‘Oh, my God … I think he’s dead.’

Luke took several steps forward. Between the tills, Anna could see the blue uniforms of kitchen staff moving. Clearing a space near the stoves in front of which a large man in a white jacket lay very still.

Luke took in the scene. He turned his head with a single, rapid motion.

‘Anna!’ he shouted. ‘Get in here. I need you.’

Someone had raised the flap now but, if they hadn’t, it occurred to Anna that she might have tried to leap over it, too. Luke needed her?

The man was obviously one of the chefs. His white hat had come off when he’d collapsed and was lying amongst the pots and pans of an overturned rack.

Luke kicked one of them aside as Anna raced into the kitchen. ‘Get rid of those,’ he ordered. ‘Someone help me turn him. Did anyone see what happened?’

‘He just fell,’ a frightened woman offered. ‘One minute he was cleaning down the cooker and then he toppled sideways.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Roger.’

The man had been rolled onto his back now. Luke gripped his shoulder and shook it firmly, hunched down so that he could lean close and shout.

‘Roger? Can you hear me? Open your eyes!’

He barely waited for the response that didn’t come. His hands on Roger’s chin and forehead, he tilted the head back to open his airway.

‘Does anyone know him?’ he demanded. ‘Medical history?’

‘He takes pills,’ someone said. ‘For his blood pressure, I think.’

‘No, it’s his heart,’ another voice added.

The few seconds that Luke had kept his fingertips on the side of Roger’s neck and his cheek close to his face had been enough to let him know that there was no pulse or respiration to be felt or seen. Anna crouched on the other side of the collapsed man as Luke raised his fist and brought it down squarely in the centre of the man’s chest. A precordial thump that was unlikely to be successful but was worth a try.

Ready to start CPR, Anna was thinking fast, compiling a mental list of what they would need. Luke was way ahead of her.

‘Get a crash trolley in here. Find a cardiac arrest button. Send for someone in ED or wherever’s closest. Anna, start compressions.’ He looked up at the silent, horrified onlookers. ‘Move!’

They backed away. Anna heard someone yelling into the canteen for the cardiac arrest button to be pushed. If there wasn’t one in there, it wouldn’t be too far away. She positioned her hands, locked her elbows and started pushing on Roger’s chest. He was a big man and it was hard work to compress the sternum enough to be effective.

Ten … twenty … thirty compressions. At least someone would arrive with a bag-mask unit very soon so she didn’t have to worry about the implications of unprotected mouth-to-mouth respirations on a stranger.

The faint possibility of contracting something like hepatitis didn’t seem to occur to Luke. Or it didn’t bother him.

‘Hold it,’ he ordered Anna, pinching Roger’s nose and tilting his head back as he spoke. Then he sealed the man’s mouth with his own. One slow breath … and then another.

Anna started compressions again, the image of Luke’s lips pressed to someone’s face emblazoned in her mind. The kiss of life … She’d seen it before, though it was a rarity in a medical setting. Was that why it was so disturbing this time? Shocking, in fact. She had to concentrate on her silent counting until it was time to warn Luke.

‘Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty …’

By the time they had completed another set of compressions and breaths, there were new voices nearby and the rattle of a trolley.

‘Crash team,’ someone announced. ‘We’ll take over now.’

‘I’ve got it, thanks,’ Luke growled. ‘But it’s what we—’

‘We just need the gear,’ the surgeon interrupted. ‘And some assistance.’

Anna could feel the resentment at not being allowed to do what they thought they had been summoned for, but a life pack was lifted from the trolley and put on the floor along with an IV roll, a bag mask and a portable oxygen tank.

She carried on with the chest compressions, pausing only to let Luke rip the chef’s jacket and the singlet underneath open to expose the chest and stick the pads in place. On direction, one of the doctors in the crash team secured his airway and attached oxygen to the bag mask, holding it in place until Anna paused again.

Could she ask to hand over compressions to someone else? This was enough of a physical effort to make her aware of perspiration dampening her shirt. No, she wouldn’t ask. She was with Luke on this.

He had been the one to respond and identify the crisis, which made this man his patient until he chose to hand him over. And he’d asked for Anna’s help. Roger was their patient and they could do this as well, probably better, than the junior doctors assigned to crash-team duties for the day.

‘Stop compressions.’ Luke was watching the screen of the life pack, waiting for a readable trace to appear. ‘V fib,’ he announced moments later. ‘Charging to three hundred joules. Everyone stand clear.’

The junior doctors inched back, exchanging glances.

‘Who is this guy?’ Anna heard one of them ask another.

‘Luke Davenport,’ came the response. ‘You know, the surgeon who’s just got back from Iraq?’

‘Oh …’

In the short space of time it had taken for three stacked shocks to be delivered, the atmosphere in this inner circle around the victim changed. The crash team, who had been busy resenting not being allowed to showcase their skills in managing an arrest, suddenly couldn’t do enough to help their leader.

‘Do you want an intubation kit, Mr Davenport?’

‘Shall I draw up some adrenaline? Atropine?’

‘Here’s a sixteen-gauge cannula. And a flush.’

‘Dr Bartlett? Do you need a break?’

Anna sat back on her heels, nodding. There was plenty of scientific evidence that compressions became less effective after two minutes unless someone else took a turn. She didn’t move far away, however. She watched, totally amazed by the speed at which Luke worked. And she noticed things she hadn’t noticed before.

Like the streaks of grey in his short brown hair. They had to be premature because she knew he was only a few years older than her and couldn’t have hit forty quite yet. He had such neat fingernails too and his hands looked so different without gloves. Far more masculine, which made their speed and cleverness more impressive as he gained intravenous access and secured the line.

His brain was working just as fast. He seemed to be able to think of everything at once and keep tabs on what everybody was doing, but most of all, Anna was caught by the way he’d taken a trolley of equipment and a group of young medics who hadn’t been thrilled not to be allowed to take over and forged them into a team that was now working under difficult conditions as well as they could have in a resuscitation bay in Emergency.

It was a team that had achieved success even before Luke had made a move to secure Roger’s airway with an endotracheal tube. When the static cleared from the next, single shock delivered, the flat line suddenly gave a blip. And then another.

‘Sinus rhythm,’ one of the crash team said triumphantly. ‘Yes.’

‘Have we got a stretcher?’ Luke still hadn’t relaxed. ‘Let’s get this man into the ED. Or CCU.’

Charlotte had edged her way to the back of the kitchen. ‘Great job, Mr Davenport. Would you like to hand over now?’

‘Call me Luke,’ he said, still watching the monitor. The rhythm was picking up steadily and Roger was taking his own breaths now. The chef’s eyes flickered and he groaned loudly.

And, finally, Anna saw the grim lines of Luke’s face soften a little. He leaned down and gripped Roger’s shoulder again with his hand—the way he had when he’d first begun this resuscitation effort. He didn’t shake it this time. This was a reassuring touch.

‘Just relax,’ he told Roger. ‘We’re looking after you. Everything’s all right.’

He looked up at Charlotte and gave a nod to indicate transfer of responsibility. Charlotte moved closer to talk to him, but as she moved, Luke shifted his gaze to Anna.

And something inside her tightened and then melted.

From the moment this incident had started—from when she’d heard the scream and seen Luke’s instantaneous response, she’d been aware of his total command of the situation. Of his faultless performance and ability to absorb additional resources and personnel and then … right at the end … an indication that he really cared about this patient.

An impressive mix. If his glance had been in any way smug, it could have driven Anna into a defensive corner she might never have emerged from, but there was no hint of smugness. No self-satisfaction even. The fraction of time he held her gaze sent a message that was more like, We did it. This time, at least.

The triumph that was there was on the patient’s behalf. Behind that was the acknowledgment of defeat in other cases and the sadness that they couldn’t always win. Shining over both impressions was a kind of promise. A determination to always fight the odds and do the best possible job.

It sucked her right in.

She could work with this man. Could respect him. Like him.

More than that, in fact, judging by the odd ripple of sensation that caressed her spine and sent tingles through the rest of her body.

Dear Lord, she was attracted to him? No wonder she’d been so aware of her own appearance when she’d been standing in line with Charlotte. It explained a lot but it was a reaction that had to be crushed instantly. Allowing something that personal to threaten a professional relationship would be the ultimate play on femininity.

The reason women couldn’t be seen as equals in this arena was largely because of the perception that they allowed emotion to cloud their judgment. Or, worse, they put a priority on relationships and undermined their careers by taking time off to have babies.

Not Anna Bartlett. It wasn’t on any agenda she’d ever had.

Luke’s return and—worse—his attractiveness were roadblocks. Ones she could detour around, which would see her working somewhere else, or deal with if the pull to stay put was strong enough. Either way, getting even remotely close to Luke Davenport would be a mistake.

It was Anna who broke the eye contact.

And turned away.

CHAPTER THREE

THE crisis over, Luke found he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Anna.

Not that he hadn’t spotted her the moment she’d walked into the canteen. He’d taken a good look then because he hadn’t been sure it was her. Something about the height and body shape of the woman had seemed familiar but he’d only seen her eyes before this so it could have been anybody.

Just an attractive female member of staff. A senior member, obviously, because of the way she held herself. The way she moved with the confidence of someone who knew she was very good at what she did. And maybe he recognised something in the way this woman was dressed. Power dressing, really, with that pencil skirt and neat shirt. She probably had a matching jacket that would make the outfit the female equivalent of a man’s suit. And what was that horrible thing she’d done to her hair? It was all scraped back into a round thing that made her look like a cartoon version of a librarian or frumpy secretary. All she needed was some thick-rimmed spectacles to complete the picture.

When her head had turned to scan the room, he hadn’t needed to be close enough to see the colour of her eyes to recognise that this was, indeed, Anna Bartlett. While she wasn’t radiating resentment right now, there was an air of containment about her that suggested she didn’t change her mind easily. A reserve that could well morph into an arctic-type chill when she saw him. A woman that knew her own mind and woe betide anyone that got in her way. Like him.

Luke almost sighed as he dropped his gaze back to a meal he wasn’t particularly interested in. He wasn’t enjoying this lunchtime experience much at all, in fact. He knew that many of the people around had to be talking about him. Gossiping. The happy chatter and laughter going on around him, even the smell of abundant, hot food all seemed irrelevant. Superficial.

The crash and then the scream had been real, though. He’d reacted on autopilot. He wasn’t sure what had made him demand Anna as an assistant. Possibly because she had been the only staff member nearby that he could call by name. Or maybe it was the memory of how well they had worked together in Theatre only a short time ago.

It had been a good choice. The crisis had been dealt with and a life had been saved and it had only been then, when it was virtually done and dusted and he was handing his patient into the care of a new team, that Luke had allowed anything else to enter his head. It was then that he’d had his first close-up look at Dr Bartlett and he’d had the curious impression that he’d been looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

No wonder! The cool professional he’d seen queuing for her lunch was absent. This woman, standing in the canteen kitchen with a creased skirt and a shirt that had come untucked on one side, was … wrong, somehow. Even more disconcerting was that a thick lock of dark blonde hair had escaped the bun thing and lay against a long, pale neck.

Her cheeks were flushed. From the exertion and stress of doing CPR or was she embarrassed at being dishevelled? Even her eyes looked different. Enlarged pupils made them seem softer. Warmer.

Good grief … she was rather lovely.

Any impression of warmth vanished, however, as Luke stared at her, unable to drag his gaze away.

And then she dismissed him! Simply turned on her heel and walked away.

How rude. No genuine warmth there, then. Anna Bartlett was clearly a career woman through and through, and she probably saw him as nothing less than an obstacle in her scramble to the top of that ladder. Any hope that she might discuss this morning’s incident with him before reporting it to a higher authority faded and disappeared.

Charlotte, the cardiologist, was saying something to him, he realised. Something about whether he’d like to come with them to the emergency department to see what the investigations Roger needed would reveal.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Please.’

‘You’ll remember Ben Carter?’

‘Of course.’

‘And have you met Josh O’Hara? No, you wouldn’t have. He joined the A and E staff while you were away.’

Luke kept up with the pace set by the people pushing the stretcher, heading away from the canteen and any areas that his assistant was likely to be heading for.

He’d see Anna again soon enough. Doing a ward round later today or perhaps in the departmental meeting scheduled for early tomorrow morning. Given how he felt about her in the wake of that dismissal, it might even be too soon.

The aura of the war hero already surrounding the return of Luke Davenport to St Piran’s had evolved into something far more tangible by the time Anna was halfway through her ward round later that afternoon.

He had become a living legend.

Thanks to the crowd in the canteen at the time, accounts of the incident would have spread like wildfire and reached every corner of this institution in no time flat. Spilling into ears eager for the smallest details.

The junior nursing staff on the cardiology ward were discussing it when Anna paused outside the central station to collect some patient notes she needed.

‘It was like something in the movies,’ someone was saying in awed tones. ‘He just pushed everything off the counter and jumped over it.’

‘I heard he did mouth-to-mouth without even using a face shield.’

‘Yeah …’

‘Is the guy still alive?’

‘Apparently he’s in the cath lab right now. He’ll probably get admitted in here or CCU when they’re finished.’

‘Do you think Mr Davenport will come down with him?’

‘Ooh … I hope so.’

The giggling from the young nurses was irritating. Anna decided it was because her own participation in the incident had been totally eclipsed by the actions of St Piran’s new superhero. Except that she couldn’t convince herself to be that petty. The irritation was really there because part of her was as star-struck as everyone else seemed to be. The man was intriguing. Compelling. Apparently trustworthy. And that was disturbing because Anna felt that she knew something about him that no one else knew. Or would believe.

If she wanted to discuss her concerns with someone, the obvious choice would be Albert White, the CEO of St Piran’s. He would listen to any concerns she might have about Luke’s abilities. He might even believe her and, if he did, he might set some kind of probationary programme in place. Things like that did not remain confidential. Eventually, it would leak. Given his performance in the canteen and new status amongst the staff, nobody else would believe Anna.

She might find herself more alone than she’d ever been in her struggle to break through the glass ceiling of her gender. It could affect how well she was able to do her own job. She stood to lose the trust and possibly even the co-operation of the people she worked with and teamwork was vital in this line of work.

Tread carefully, she reminded herself, even when her demotion from being team leader had been rubbed in when a flurry of activity had heralded the new arrival in the coronary care unit adjacent to the ward and more than the necessary staff numbers flocked to greet both the patient and the new head of department.

Roger the chef was made comfortable and wired up so that every beat of his heart could be monitored, the trace and its extra information like blood pressure and the level of oxygen in his blood appearing on one of the screens flanking the central nurses’ station. It was there that Luke caught up with Anna.

‘He needs urgent revascularisation,’ he informed her. ‘I’m hoping you can fit him in on your list for tomorrow.’

Anna closed her eyes for a split second as she groaned inwardly. She opened them to find herself under intense scrutiny.

‘Is that a problem?’ Luke asked. ‘You don’t have any elective patients on the list?’

‘I do, but I’ve just been talking to a Mrs Melton and reassuring her. She’s stable but has severe triple vessel disease. This is her third admission for surgery because she’s been bumped off the list for urgent cases on the last two occasions.’

‘Has she had a major infarct? An arrest?’

‘No.’

‘Come and look at Roger’s films and then we can discuss it. Have you got viewing facilities in your office?’

She did, but Anna was aware of a strong reluctance to take Luke there. She had chosen not to take over his office in his absence and her space was relatively small. It was also the most personal space she had here at work.

She was already a little too aware of this man. His size and reputation and … and whatever it was that was exerting a tugging sensation on something emotional. Not to mention the danger that frisson of potential attraction had represented. She didn’t want him invading a personal space. Not yet. Not until she felt a lot more confident in her interactions with him and that wasn’t going to be until she’d resolved the dilemma she was in.

‘The seminar room’s closer. Where we hold the departmental meetings.’

‘Of course. Have you got the time now?’

‘Yes. I’ve finished the ward round.’

The round Luke had been supposed to join her for, but if he noticed any reprimand in her dry tone he gave no indication of it. He led the way down the corridor, his pace fast enough to keep Anna a half step behind. The hint of asymmetry in the way he moved had become a noticeable limp by the time they reached the lifts but Luke didn’t pause. He pushed open the fire-stop doors and headed up the stairs.

Commenting on something as personal, not to mention physical, as the aftermath of his injury seemed inappropriate. In the same ball park as asking Charlotte if she was pregnant, and this wasn’t remotely like the far more social setting of the hospital canteen with its ‘time out’ from work atmosphere. This was work and Luke’s focus was entirely professional. He had no difficulty using the computerised system to bring the images from the catheter laboratory onto the large screen in the meeting room.

‘As you can see, there’s a seventy to eighty per cent stenosis on the left anterior descending and diffuse disease over a significant segment of the vessel. And that’s not all. There’s a critical stenosis in the circumflex. Here … see?’

‘Yes.’ Anna watched and listened. It was quite obvious that Roger was in more urgent need of surgery than her Mrs Melton. As the head of department, Luke would have been within his rights to simply order her to juggle lists but instead he was taking the time to put all the information in front of her, presumably with the intention of giving her the opportunity to make the call.

Exactly the way they should be interacting as colleagues. There was every reason to take a moment to admire the way he was dealing with the situation but there really shouldn’t have been any space in Anna’s head to be so aware of the way Luke moved his hands as he spoke. Of how elegant those movements were for those large hands with their clever, tapered fingers.

It was quite reasonable to appreciate the way he spoke so clearly too and the transparent speed with which his mind worked, but that didn’t excuse the enjoyment Anna found she was getting from the timbre of that deep voice. She brushed off the visceral reactions. So he was intelligent and articulate. She should have expected nothing else in someone who had beaten her in a job application.

But perhaps that underlying awareness of him as a person and not simply a surgeon made her more aware of his physical issues. When they had finished coming to a mutually agreeable compromise on theatre lists, which would see Mrs Melton staying on as an inpatient until her surgery could be scheduled, Luke stood up. His face was grim and he blinked with slow deliberation, as though he was in pain but determined to ignore it. Or switch it off. The action took Anna straight back to their time in Theatre that morning and she knew she couldn’t avoid broaching the subject.

‘How’s your leg?’ she found herself asking. ‘I understand you suffered a fairly serious injury?’

‘I survived.’ Luke’s tone told her it wasn’t a welcome subject for discussion. ‘It’s improving all the time.’ His stare was expressionless. ‘Why do you ask?’

Anna had to fight back the urge to apologise for asking a personal question. His eyes were so blue. So intense. No way could she simply dismiss that sharp squeezing sensation occurring deep in her belly. It might have been a very long time since she’d experienced a shaft of desire but it was all too easy to recognise. She looked away.

‘I’ve taken on a position as your assistant. If you have problems that I could help with, please don’t hesitate to tell me.’

Luke made an incredulous sound, as though Anna would be incapable of giving him any assistance. That she had no idea what she was talking about. The sound rankled. She looked up to meet his gaze again.

‘If, for example, you find it hard to stay on your feet for a long theatre session.’