2. Prescription For Love

Flann ran through the routine of assessing the patient, the steps so familiar she could do them in her sleep. There had been a few times during her residency when she had. All the same, in the back of her mind, her father’s voice reminded her to always expect the unexpected. Every case was unique, no matter how many times she had seen the battered bodies, the traumatized tissues, the unforgiving march of disease. Routine was her biggest ally and her most dangerous enemy, the sword with two edges she wielded in her daily battles. She checked pupils, reflexes, breathing, and heart rate. She palpated the abdomen, percussed for fluid, searched for signs of rupture and internal bleeding. Ran her hands down the extremities, over the pulses in the groin and behind the knees and feet. As she worked, so did the others, monitoring vital signs, throwing X-ray films up on the light box, regulating the respirator, and monitoring blood gases. Everyone did their part, that’s what made them a team.

Her team. Her domain.

As she worked, she was aware that the team had subtly changed. Abigail Remy worked across from her, their hands nearly touching at times—inserting IVs, catheters, and tubes; checking and rechecking the minute-to-minute vital signs for instability or improvement. They’d barely spoken, but she already knew so much about the new ER chief—her focus, her sure movements, her calm and purposeful directions spoke of confidence and intelligence and control. Still, Remy was no surgeon, and a stranger. And she was undoubtedly the harbinger of change. She was taking one of Flann’s jobs, after all, or so it appeared.

Under other circumstances, she’d have been more than happy to make Dr. Remy’s acquaintance. She’d only had a few minutes before entering crisis mode to assess her, but those few seconds had been enough to deliver a one-two punch. Abigail projected a lethal combination of beauty and power in a captivating female package that Flann had never been able to resist. Shoulder-length golden hair, wavy and thick, that could only be completely natural; green eyes so pure Flann could almost smell the spring leaves; and a body even the loose cover gown couldn’t quite conceal, full and curved in all the right places. Anywhere else, any other time, and she would already be thinking about the first date.

Fuck it all. Not this time.

Flann strode to the light box and scanned the row of X-rays: skull, C-spine, chest, belly, arms, legs.

Abigail appeared beside her, tilting her head as she studied each one. Even her silence vibrated with cool confidence.

Abigail extended a finger toward the chest X-ray, her subtly manicured nail gleaming with clear polish. “Blunting of the costophrenic angle right there.”

“Yeah, I see it,” Flann said. “Lung fields are clear, but that could be blood.” “You have ultrasound, don’t you?” Abigail asked.

Flann cut her a glance. “We are operating in the twenty-first century here.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.” Abigail’s smile was thin. So far the resuscitation had gone well, everyone doing their part and all the critical bases being covered. Still, the absence of in-house specialists, especially neurosurg and ortho, was a potential disaster waiting to happen. “Want to get ultrasound to check the belly?”

“Would be quicker if I did a cutdown.”

“If she’s ruptured her diaphragm above the liver, there might not be free blood in the cavity.”

Flann upgraded her opinion of the new ER chief. The term rankled, but she set her irritation aside for now, even if taking orders from a medical doctor was not in her makeup. “Good point.” She looked over her shoulder. “Susie, honey, can you get Terry down here super quick.”

“Sure thing, Flann,” Susan called, and reached for the phone.

“Honey?” Abby murmured.

Flann grinned, perversely glad she’d irritated her just a little bit. “Part of my Southern charm.” “I didn’t realize you were Southern.”

“Through and through, on my mama’s side.”

Abby blew out a breath. “The charm might be open to question.”

“Give it time.”

Abby laughed reluctantly. “MRI?”

“CAT scan. We’ve been trying to get an MRI suite for a couple of years. You know what they cost.”

“I’ll let Presley know it’s a priority.”

“Presley?” Flann knew exactly who Presley was—her soon-to-be sister-in-law and the new CEO of the SunView Regional Medical Center-New York Division. She wondered how well Abigail knew her.

Abigail gave her a long look. “Presley Worth. I understand she’s marrying your sister.”

“I’ve heard that rumor.” Flann shook her head, still checking the films. “Unless Harper comes to her senses.”

Abigail stiffened. Really, could she be more of an ass? “You don’t approve?”

Flann grinned. Got her again. Remy was fun to tease. “Actually, I do. Harper is really happy, so not for me to point out the error of her ways. How do you know Presley?”

“We’re sorority sisters.”

“Ah. That’s some kind of lifelong secret society kind of thing, right?”