Page 9 of Healing Her (Pulse Medical #1)

C ity fell back against the bed pillows, a satisfied sigh bursting out of her on impact. “Hot damn , Ashley.”

“You’re welcome.” Ashley winked as she came up from her position between City’s thighs and sprawled out next to her on the bed. It was their fourth encounter in a week, rather a marked increase from their usual occasional hook-up. Her jaw was starting to ache from the unaccustomed overuse.

But if she was preoccupied with City, then she didn’t have to think about what had happened—almost happened—with Jen Colton last week…

A twinge of guilt pinged at the back of Ashley’s mind; she was using City and she knew it.

She also knew City wouldn’t mind if she knew, since their relationship had always been strictly casual and non-monogamous, less a relationship than a pleasurable arrangement, really.

But it wasn’t right, not by her own ethical code.

It was selfish, too. And it was escapism at its very worst.

Normal people read books. Knit scarves. Took up competitive coffee making.

They didn’t trip and fall face-first into the lap of the nearest beautiful and willing woman in order to avoid thinking about a different beautiful and possibly willing woman.

No, that was something only Ashley Proctor could find herself doing.

“Penny for your thoughts,” City prompted, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her hand.

“In this economy? Better make it a dollar,” Ashley quipped in return.

A joke, but she knew City was serious about wanting to know what was going on in her head.

The woman had a deep-seated belief in talking through her emotions.

And it wasn’t that Ashley didn’t see the value in that, it was just…

not for her. Ever, but especially not now. There was too much to unpack.

What had possessed her to kiss Jen Colton?

To hoist her up onto a countertop and run her hands over her smooth thighs, to slide a hand up under that rucked-up skirt and pluck at the waistband of her panties?

Beyond the unprofessionalism of doing it in the hospital—Ashley had prided herself on never hooking up at work, as so many of her colleagues had—there was the simple fact that she hated Jen Colton.

They were on diametrically opposing sides of medicine, and Ashley detested everything the woman stood for.

And yet, when Jen had snapped back that bratty, snippy, “And you don’t get to order me around,” ugh.

Ashley squirmed now just remembering it, the way it had made her instantly wet, desire coiling and twisting in the pit of her stomach.

She’d had her tongue in Jen’s mouth, tasting the chocolatey peppermint coffee, exploring the soft warmth, long before she understood what she was doing.

She couldn’t remember the last time blind lust had driven her like that. If it ever had.

When she’d left Jen in the surgeon’s lounge with whatever pathetic mumbles she could come up with, she’d sent one perfunctory text message and driven straight to City’s place.

Where she’d found herself every other night since.

City was enjoying it, but Ashley knew she was ravenously curious.

Which meant she was going to have to cool it with City, and if she did that, she was going to have to either find another friend with benefits very quickly, or…

…Well, she didn’t want to think about the or of it all.

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 lifted her 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, typically you are our most unshakable surgeon.”