Seduction (The Secret Billionaire Asher Christmas Duet Book 1) Read online

  “Sure,” I said, still troubled by the mystery of whether Zara had gone through with her plan to quit.

  “Thanks,” Deb said and walked away from me before I could ask what happened between the two of them. “Oh.” She stopped in her tracks.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I’m putting you on Dr. Sparrow’s service this evening. It’ll be good for you to pick up as many techniques from him as you can while you’re still here.” She checked her wristwatch. “He’ll be in surgery in forty-five minutes, OR seven. You should get prepped now.”

  It felt as if my head were rising to the ceiling. No. I managed to avoid him all day, and now I’m going to be in surgery with him? My terrified eyes remained pasted to Deb’s back. I tried to think of something to say, but my mouth wouldn’t work. I wanted to take it back and say I couldn’t cover for Zara because I had a thing to attend that night and couldn’t get out of it. What thing? I couldn’t think of one.

  Soon Deb was out of sight, and there was no turning back. I couldn’t avoid the mysterious, sexy, and quite rude new attending.

  “You okay?” John Ness, one of the oncology residents, asked.

  I hadn’t noticed him standing next to me and could only imagine how flustered I appeared. So I stood up straight, pulled my shoulders back, and decided to face Dr. Sparrow with confidence and professionalism.

  “I’m fine.”

  Really, I am.

  I wasn’t fine.

  I prepped for the assist on a decompressive craniectomy, which was when part of the patient’s skull would be removed to relieve the pressure of swelling in the brain. I had performed two of those surgeries by myself earlier that week. The odds of a patient dying were high. According to Melanie, the OR assistant who scrubbed in with me, Dr. Sparrow was on his eighth straight surgery and would appreciate a resident of my caliber scrubbing in to make sure he didn’t miss a step. He had been expecting Zara, but according to Melanie, I was the better option. Melanie and Zara had strange tension between them, so I thought it best not to comment.

  “But Dr. Sparrow is top-notch,” she assured me. “He’s hands down the best surgeon I’ve had the privilege to work with.”

  That made me feel better about heading into a critical procedure with him. I had to bring my A game. And it sounded as if he was a consummate professional who wouldn’t let the reason he’d stared at me so much get in the way of our working together. The patient’s name was Bruce Landy. His motorcycle had slipped on an oil patch, which caused him to skid off the road and tumble twenty-five feet down a ravine, and his surgery would be tricky.

  But as soon as I walked into the operating room, Dr. Sparrow stared at me with his mouth agape. He didn’t look happy to see me. That was for sure. And I immediately felt my skin burn.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled.

  I couldn’t believe the scorn in his tone. What did I ever do to him but say hello? “I’m here for an assist,” I said.

  “Where’s Dr. Agate?”

  My brow furrowed. It sort of stung that he wanted her instead of me. “She’s not here, but I assure you—”

  “This is not a teaching moment. You can leave,” Dr. Sparrow said and looked down to verify his instruments.

  Stacy, one of the nurses, stopped taping the patient’s eyes to raise her eyebrows at me. I could tell she was curious about how I was going to respond.

  I stood tall, planting my feet in a wide stance. “Dr. Sparrow, I assure you this is not a teaching moment. I’ve done this procedure on my own many times before tonight. I’m here to assist.”

  He looked up again and narrowed his eyes at me. Is he staring at my mouth? I felt something emanating from him but was sure it wasn’t desire. No way, not desire.

  Dr. Sparrow cleared his throat. “Your assistance will not be needed either. Look in on my patients instead. You can do that, can’t you?” He sounded as if he was trying to talk down to me.

  Stacy went back to taping the patient’s eyes closed.

  Since I didn’t want to cry in front of him or any of the others in the room, I easily conceded. Still fully prepped for surgery, I raced down the corridor. Curious onlookers watched me. I knew I looked distressed. In all my years in the program, I had never felt so humiliated.

  I stormed into the on-call room then plopped down on a bench and clutched my thighs. Dr. Sparrow was a supreme dick. Suddenly, I knew why I had been attracted to him. My picker was shit. It was as if I always fell for the one asshole in the room who was waiting to disrespect me. Fuck him!

  “Fuck who?” someone asked.

  I whipped around. I hadn’t noticed Kevin Chen on the opposite side of the room, digging into his locker.

  “I said that out loud?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  I rolled my eyes, still steaming mad. But I was not going to complain about Sparrow and give the rude doctor the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to me.

  “Fuck no one. I was just blowing off some steam.”

  “All righty then,” Kevin said.

  I shot to my feet. The doctor had sent me on rounds, and that was exactly what I was going to do.

  I was at the bedside of my fourth patient. His name was Trey Sharp, and he was thirty-seven years old and had fallen off a twenty-foot-tall scaffold while working at a construction site. He was six hours and forty-two minutes post-op on a surgery to stop a subarachnoid hemorrhage. As I read the chart, I noticed that it had been two hours since the last time his vitals were checked. I would’ve ordered that his vitals be checked every half hour. The hospital was going through a severe nurse shortage, which had been the case at the hospital where I attended medical school as well. It didn’t take long to learn that nurse staffing was where hospitals skimped, yet their role in a patient’s care program was just as vital as a surgeon’s.

  I was certainly capable of fulfilling the order and taking the vitals myself and was about to do it until I noticed something else. Mr. Sharp’s body was extra tense, and his mouth was caught open. I checked his hands. His fists were curled up. He was seizing.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered.

  I hit the emergency button and called for a nurse, asking for an intravenous dose of benzodiazepine. Lucy, one of the nurses, was in the room in a matter of seconds, and I administered the seizure-halting medication, which did its job immediately.

  Next I called down to imaging and let them know my patient’s history and told them he needed a CT scan, stat. Since an orderly wasn’t immediately available to take our patient, who was groggy but finally awake, downstairs, Lucy and I rolled him to imaging.

  After dropping off Mr. Sharp, I resumed my rounds but told the technician to contact me as soon as the results were ready to be looked at. I also asked that a copy be sent to Dr. Sparrow, even though he was still in surgery.

  More patients were happy to see me and hear their plans of care. I was just about to forgo rushing down to the nurses’ call station, where I’d heard there were an assortment of cold beignets from Bernard’s Bakery, when I got the page from imaging. I was sent a code indicating that I should get downstairs fast. When I arrived at imaging and examined the results, I knew care couldn’t be delayed. The guy needed to get into the OR and fast.

  I contacted Deb and quickly gave her the rundown.

  “But you’re supposed to be scrubbed in on the craniectomy.”

  “He said he didn’t need me and sent me on rounds.”

  She paused then grunted. “It’s an intracerebral hemorrhage?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Get Sparrow to sign off before you go into the OR.”

  I suppressed a gasp. “Sparrow?”

  “Yes. Sparrow. Do you have a problem with him or something?”

  “No,” I said as relaxed as I could.

  “Then I’ll see you in the morning,” Deb said and hung up.

  I sighed forcefully as I scratched my scalp beneath my loose ponytail. Deb and I had entered the prog
ram at the same time. She opted to be chief resident. I preferred to stay where I could perform as many surgeries as possible. She was the best chief resident in the complex, but sometimes she could be an annoying hard-ass that I loved to death.

  Five minutes later, I stood outside of OR seven, chewing nervously on my bottom lip, waiting for Melanie to finish relaying my message to Dr. Sparrow about Mr. Sharp and give me the green light to save his life.

  Finally, the door opened. She gave me a thumbs-up, and I immediately raced to OR three to get the surgery underway.

  Six Hours Later

  My shift was over, and I was ready to devour an order of bourbon wings then settle in for a long day’s sleep. But first I went to check in on Mr. Sharp. When I stepped into the patient’s room, he was awake but groggy from being on pain medication. Two big guys who looked the same age as the patient were standing at his bedside. I could tell they weren’t meaning to stay long. They wore work boots with jeans and tan T-shirts.

  I always remembered to smile when first encountering patients and their visitors. “Good morning,” I said, making sure to not say it too loudly.

  The men gave me funny looks, so I told them I was Dr. Ross and I’d performed the surgery earlier that morning.

  “There’s no way in hell you’re a surgeon,” one of them said.

  “Yes, sir,” I said with an assured nod. I wasn’t insulted by his surprise. I got that a lot. Then I focused on the patient. “Mr. Sharp, how are you doing this morning?”

  He raised his thumb.

  My smile broadened. “Glad to hear it. Your surgery went smoothly. Your vitals have been looking good. You’re a strong man, Mr. Sharp.”

  “Trey. Call me Trey,” he said softly.

  One of his visitors extended an arm toward me. “And me, Jack.”

  I shook his hand.

  The other guy also shot his arm out. “I’m Mike.”

  “Jack and Mike,” I said while shaking Mike’s hand.

  “I don’t see a ring, Doc,” Mike said, still holding my hand.

  “Good morning,” a voice blared from behind me.

  We all turned toward the doorway to see who’d spoken. It was Dr. Sparrow.

  First of all, I had no idea that “good morning” was in his vocabulary since I’d never heard him say it once. The day before, while passing Zara and me on his way into the building, would’ve been a great time for him to say it.

  As he strolled toward us with the air of a marquis, his presence filled the room. I felt dwarfed standing next to him, and I was pretty sure that was his intention.

  What a dick.

  Then he went on explaining to Trey’s friends the procedure that I’d performed. I was supposed to do that, and I wanted to cut him off and take over.

  “Well,” I said as soon as Sparrow finally took a pause. “I’m going to step out. Trey, I’m glad you’re feeling well this morning. The nurses will continue to check on you regularly—”

  “She saved your life this morning,” Sparrow said.

  My body stiffened. I was shocked to hear him say that. Finally, I let my gaze meet his.

  His eyebrows shifted upward and stayed there. “She did good work.”

  “You never answered. Are you single?” Jack asked.

  I closed my mouth and swallowed as I looked at the other man. He was certainly cute but couldn’t hold a candle to Dr. Sparrow. Hell, no one could hold a candle to him—not even me.

  “Dude, you have a girlfriend,” Mike said. “If I was over there, I’d slap you in the back of the head.”

  At least that got a light chuckle from Trey, who seemed to be enjoying his friends’ company.

  “No boyfriend,” I said finally.

  “Husband?” Jack fired off rapidly.

  “Um…” My skin burned as I felt Sparrow watching me intently. “No. Okay…” I said in a tone indicating that I was putting an end to that line of questioning. I took a few steps away from the bed. “Nice meeting you guys, but I have to leave.”

  The three guys spoke their last goodbyes, and I moved out of the room fast. I heard Dr. Sparrow say something about Trey’s care plan for the day. He spoke loudly, making sure those guys knew that he had the floor, and for once, I was thankful that he and I had shared the same space for a few minutes.

  What was that in there, though? Why was he looking at me that way? I wondered if what I’d seen in his eyes was hate, admiration, or perhaps lust. Nah. It couldn’t have been lust. No way.

  Chapter Four

  Penina Ross

  I hadn’t meant to do it, but I walked right past Bellies and headed home. I had a lot on my mind—plus, I was so exhausted that I could barely stand, let alone sit at the counter, eating chicken wings. I also wanted to preserve enough energy to confront Zara. I was shocked that she’d left without even finding me and telling me what happened. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know the answer. But I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

  She lived in the apartment next to mine. When I knocked on her door, I got no answer. I stood there for a good while, my knuckles hitting the wood.

  “Looking for Zara?” someone behind me asked.

  I whipped around to see Jen Lovely, an internal medicine resident who lived in the apartment across from mine.

  “Yes.” I sounded desperate.

  “She’s gone.” Her tone was casual.

  I jerked my head forward. “Gone? Did she move out?”

  “No,” Jen said, shaking her head emphatically. “She said something about going to DC for some rally. You know how political she is and shit. Someone said she quit her residency today, though. Did she?”

  Talk about someone with diarrhea of the mouth. I could neither confirm nor deny whether Zara had flushed thousands of dollars of education down the toilet, so I wasn’t going to voice whether she had or not.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.”

  “Isn’t Deb Glasgow your chief resident?” Jen sounded anxious. Her eyes were glossy, and she had an intense look on her face. She was obviously determined to get the details before anyone else. She prided herself on knowing things first. I swore she should’ve been a journalist instead of a doctor.

  “I haven’t spoken to Deb about Zara. I was too busy working a very long shift.” I thumbed over at my door. “So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”

  Jen took a step back. “Fine,” she said, shrugging one shoulder jerkily. Then she turned her back on me, swung open the door to her apartment, went inside, and slammed the door behind her.

  I rolled my eyes as I shook my head then entered my own domain. Once inside, I dropped my shit on the sofa. Then I went to the kitchen and took some Chinese takeout out of the refrigerator. It was from five or six days ago. I smelled it.

  “Humph,” I grunted.

  It was still good, so I microwaved it.

  As my food was warming, I leaned against the counter, attempting to deconstruct what had happened in the patient’s room that morning. Sparrow had walked in as if he owned the world. I gathered that he was one of those boys who came from a lot of money. They were usually the most fucked up, sort of like Zara. They were only surgeons because they were fulfilling their parents’ expectations. Usually, the rich boys were more artful at blowing up their careers, though. They often ended up being kicked out of the program for stealing medications, reporting to their shift high one too many times, or continuously failing tests. But according to Melanie, Dr. Sparrow was kick-ass at his job. However, he was still a jerk.

  I sniffed bitterly and muttered, “Douchebag moneybags.”

  But he’d said aloud that I saved Mr. Sharp’s life. If he was such a bad guy, then it was weird that he would pay me a compliment like that in front of two burly men who were obviously hitting on me. Sparrow was just so damn confusing. The only way for me to stop thinking about him was to go directly to sleep.

  The microwave dinged, and I took my food out of it. I grabbed a fork and scarfed down as m
uch Kung Pao chicken as I needed to make my belly full enough to help me sleep well. Next, I stripped out of my clothes, and without showering this time since I didn’t see a need to be clean while sleeping, I crawled into bed and drifted off to dreamland not long after my head hit the pillow.

  I woke to an incessant sound of sirens blaring. The more alert I became, the closer the noise felt. Then someone banged on my door, and I knew that whatever was happening was occurring in real life.

  Jumping out of bed, I grabbed my cellphone. The action was automatic. The world could be ending, and a doctor knew she’d better have a means of communication on her person. Since I was naked, I jumped into an oversized T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajamas then yanked my robe off the hook on the bathroom door. Smoke was settling in the room. When I opened the front door, smoke filled the hallway.

  Amy, one of the assistants who worked in the office and lived on the premises, was banging on everyone’s door, screaming, “Fire! Exit the building through the stairwell!”

  I could hardly believe my luck.

  “Damn it,” I mumbled, cursing the inconvenience. I was still as tired as hell. Whatever was happening didn’t feel fair at all.

  I needed shoes and to change into warmer pants, so I scuttled back inside and put on jeans and tennis shoes. I also grabbed my purse and my workbag then headed back out into the cloudy hallway.

  As we padded down the stairs, I kept my hand over my mouth like the other tenants. It had been a long time since I’d seen a lot of them. We were all in distress.

  We waited fifty feet away from the building, watching the fire trucks casting their lights against the brick. A whole host of firemen had already raced inside. There was a lot of smoke but still no flames.

  “What the fuck,” an intern named Sarah Locke said as she stepped up beside me. “I don’t see a fire. Do you see a fire?” The circles under her eyes were deep and dark, and she was shivering slightly. I recognized the sort of exhaustion she was feeling. It certainly sucked to be in her shoes. The first year as a resident was the worst year.