Second Chance With The Surgeon. Robin Gianna

      “Believe me, I’m going to make it happen and I’ll have them running as smooth as a Wall Street banker. So get your checkbook ready.”

      Conor took a last swig of coffee and headed toward the OR to find his surgery schedule. Studying the paper in his hand, he walked past several patients being prepped for surgery in cubicles only partly curtained off—and then the sound of a woman speaking caught his ears and he stopped dead.

      He turned to see the owner of the melodic voice and felt his heart drop into his stomach. Her body was wrapped in a hospital gown, her usual sweet smile was on her face, and her hair tumbled across her cheek as she exchanged comments with the prep nurse and an anesthesiologist.

      “Jillian? What the...?”

      She looked up and his eyes met the gorgeous ones he’d missed so much. A mesmerizing mix of green and gray and gold—like clouds on the horizon with the sunlight shimmering through.

      Damn it. The connection between them was still there. In spite of everything he could feel the electric zing of it, and his breath caught in his lungs.

      Then she blinked, and her gaze shifted to the hallway behind him. Her smile flatlined and her lips twisted into a grimace before she looked at him again, cool now, all that feeling of connection gone.

      “Oh. Hi, Conor. I... I broke my wrist. Distal radius fracture. Beth is putting in a plate and screws this morning to put it back together.”

      “How? What happened?”

      “I took the dogs for a walk. A couple of big dogs weren’t very friendly, Yorkie freaked out, and we got all tangled up—next thing you know, I’m flat on the sidewalk.”

      “Ah, hell. Is it your right hand?” He stepped closer to reach for it carefully, and the feel of her soft hand in his felt so good his heart got all twisted up—which bothered him no end.

      What was wrong with him? No matter how hard he’d fallen for her, he should never have married Jillian in the first place. He’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t husband material any more than his father had been, obviously having inherited his bad DNA. He’d had a selfish, cold father and a mother who’d twisted herself into knots trying to somehow make his father happy—until the day he’d left. Which had made a bad home situation dramatically worse.

      Their eyes met again, and he knew the pain and sadness he saw there had nothing to do with her wrist and everything to do with him. God knew he’d wanted his own marriage to be different. But she’d been right to leave. The last thing a special woman like Jillian needed was to be tied to a man who made her miserable.

      Except he couldn’t lie to himself. In the ten months since she’d been gone he’d thought of her every day and every night, missing her even as he’d forcibly reminded himself how much he’d hurt her. Disappointed her.

      “Yeah. No fun, but I’ll get through it.”

      “Titanium time!” Dr. Beth Crenshaw appeared in the curtained doorway with a grin that faltered a little when she saw Conor standing there. “Hey, Conor. Surprise, surprise, huh?”

      “Definitely a surprise.” It took some effort to release Jill’s hand before he folded his arms across his chest. “Why is it no one has told me this happened? That Jill is having surgery here today?”

      “Because I asked her not to tell you,” Jill said in a stiff voice. “No reason for you to know.”

      The truth of that stabbed his chest all over again. “Maybe not, but I would have liked to know anyway. Who’s taking you home post-op?”

      As soon as he asked the question his heart jolted. If she had a new guy Conor hoped and prayed he wouldn’t have to see him with her in Recovery.

      “I asked Ellie next door. She’s the only person I know who has a car.”

      “Wait. Isn’t she the one who’s about eighty and has a bum knee?”

      Her lips twisted again, this time in a wry smile. “I know it’s not ideal, taking advantage of her good nature when she has a tough time getting around. But they won’t let me take a taxi by myself, as you well know.”

      “You should have told me you were having trouble finding someone,” Beth said. “I can take you home. You’ll just have to hang around in Recovery until the end of the day. You’ll still be partially out of it for a bit, anyway. I assume you have a friend to take care of you tonight? You know you shouldn’t be alone.”

      “I think Kandie from the other office is planning to stop by and check on me at some point. And my sister’s coming sometime later this week. But she’s got a big project at work and can’t take off right now.”

      “I can’t believe you haven’t figured all this out already.” Conor looked from Jill to Beth, then back. “She’ll be coming back tomorrow to get the cast off, right? And what about the dogs? Plus, your sister’s work schedule is almost as bad as mine, so how can you count on her to get here soon?”

      “You know, I appreciate your concern, but frankly I don’t see how this is any of your business,” Jill said, her chin jutting out with that mulish look he was all too familiar with. At the same time he could see plain as day that she felt anxious about how she was going to manage everything post-op. “The dogs and I will be okay.”

      “Considering you’ve seen hundreds of patients, and know how they feel the day the cast comes off and you work with them to make a splint, I’m pretty sure you know how much pain you’ll likely be in. How completely non-functional your arm and hand will be at first. Hudson’s a big lug—not to mention there’s no way you can take them outside for a walk. Not for quite a while—until your bones and the titanium plate and screws have fused. If you fall again before that happens it could be a disaster.”

      “I won’t fall. And there are dog-walking services, you know,” Jill said. “I... I didn’t think to look one up before surgery, but I’m sure I can find one. And, like I said, Briana is coming as soon as she can.”

      “Let me check to see if there’s a nurse or one of the office staff who wouldn’t mind making some cash by helping you tonight and bringing you back tomorrow. Walking the dogs, too,” Beth said, looking from him to Jill, then back. “Meanwhile, we have to get you into twilight sleep and to the OR—or the whole day’s schedule will be messed up, which nobody wants.”

      Obviously Beth’s calm tone was designed to keep Conor from getting upset about this, but it wasn’t working. Jillian might not be his anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still care about her. Wouldn’t worry about her.

      “I have a light surgery schedule this morning, so I can take you home,” he said. “Though I do have a—”

      Abruptly, he closed his mouth. He’d almost followed his comment about taking her home by telling her he had an appointment at one o’clock with some of the decision-makers from Urgent Care Manhattan, to go over the details of the potential collaboration with HOAC. Telling her that he’d take her home when the meeting was over. But his work and business schedules had been part of the reason why she’d left and how badly he’d failed her.

      But this was an emergency, damn it. Much as he hated any delay in getting the deal closed, his competitor shut out and the urgent care department up and running, he’d just have to reschedule the meeting.

      “I’ll come to Recovery as soon as I’m done with my last surgery and I’ll take you home. Get you settled.”

      “Conor, no.” Despite her obvious need, her beautiful eyes widened in clear dismay. “I—”

      “Perfect,” Beth interrupted cheerfully. “I’ll meet you in Recovery. And now, Jill, it’s time for Dr. Fixit to fix you up.”

      Jillian opened her pretty lips to protest more, which tightened his chest. Was it really that horrifying for her to have to spend a few hours with him?

      Conor