Page 5 of Her Desire (Pulse Medical #3)

GIANNA

G ianna wasn’t known for breaking a sweat in the operating room. She’d dissected tumors the size of grapefruits, repaired hearts with the precision of a jeweler, and was generally the kind of surgeon who took one look at a problem and thought, I can fix this with one hand behind my back .

But today was different.

Today, Gianna was looking down at the case notes, and all she could think was that the surgery was going to be a potential nightmare.

The surgery was a relatively rare one. A congenital diaphragmatic hernia—basically a hole in the diaphragm where organs from the abdomen like the intestines and liver sneak up into the chest cavity. Which wasn’t exactly something you wanted in a pediatric patient.Or anyone for that matter.

Gianna was staring at the CT scans of a newborn who’d been in the NICU for the last week and was finally stable enough for surgery. Tiny organs would need to be carefully moved back into place and the diaphragm repaired.

It was a high-risk, high-reward operation, and, of course, Holly was the one who would be administering anesthesia; a task she was more than qualified for.

While her primary focus was adult cases, Holly had worked extensively with pediatric patients as well, which was the reason Gianna had requested her specifically.

“So, his diaphragm didn’t fully form,” Gianna said, although she knew Holly was already fully versed with the case. This was just their process. To go through it together, from the beginning to the end. “I’m going to need to patch it up to stop any organs from further crowding his lungs.”

Holly nodded. “Got it. So, we need to be careful about the pressure on the lungs, if they collapse during surgery, it could get messy.”

“Exactly,” Gianna said, tapping the patient file with the end of her pen. “The challenge will be keeping everything stable while I repair the hernia. If I have to move things around too much, I’ll risk affecting the baby’s oxygen levels.”

Holly leaned forward slightly. Her palms were together, her chin resting on her fingertips. “I’ll need to watch ventilation closely. Don’t want him to lose any oxygen while you’re working. I’ll take extra care with the sedation. Slow and steady, no sudden changes.”

“I appreciate that,” Gianna said, stealing a quick glance at Holly, who, dressed in her navy blue scrubs, blonde hair loose over her shoulders, couldn’t get any more beautiful.

“The last thing we need is for the baby to become unstable while I’m trying to close things up.

The repair needs to be tight, no leaks. One slip and we could have a ton of issues. ”

“Don’t worry, there will be no dips.”

“You said it.”

Holly chuckled, reaching for Gianna’s hand to give it a squeeze. “I’ve got your back, G. You just make sure everything goes smoothly with the surgery, and I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong with the anesthesia.”

She didn’t let go of Gianna’s hand. Instead, she kept her fingers wrapped around Gianna’s; the pressure so good, so surprising that Gianna’s pulse sped up until she was aware of nothing but the silky warmth of Holly’s hand on hers.

Not to mention her mind started wandering to a place it definitely shouldn’t go—like what it might feel like if she dared to trace her thumb along the smooth, soft line of Holly’s wrist, or what if she moved a little closer, or spread the touch to somewhere else?—

“I trust you to keep him stable,” Gianna said, snapping herself out of it and pulling her hand out of Holly’s reach a little too quickly.

“Good,” Holly said, seemingly unaware of all the thoughts swirling in Gianna’s mind and not at all bothered by the way Gianna had just responded. Or if she was, she didn’t show it. “I would hate if my closest friend and favorite colleague thought I was incompetent.”

“You’re a terrific anesthesiologist,” Gianna said, her voice came out a bit hoarse, like she was on the verge of getting sick.

Which, of course, she wasn’t. It was just her body betraying her.

The only way to lighten the mood, and get out of her head, was to change the subject.

Which she did, although not remarkably. “But you’re the worst pickleball player I’ve ever seen. ”

Holly scoffed.

“I’d back you a million times over in the OR,” Gianna went on. “But if you ever drag me into another doubles match, I swear I won’t ever forgive you.”

Holly laughed. “I’m not that bad.”

Gianna pulled a face. Holly Lucas was, in fact, that bad. The first and last time they played together, Holly had smacked her right in the forehead with her racket during a wild and terribly clumsy backhand swing.

“Fine,” Holly relented, reaching for the lip balm she always carried in her scrub pocket. “I’ll stay off the courts.”

“My forehead thanks you.”

Holly deadpanned and shook her head before she twisted off the cap of the lip balm and ran it across her full, heart-shaped lips.

It was a trigger, because all of a sudden, Gianna’s heart beat faster again while her hands became increasingly clammy.

Because now, Gianna couldn’t stop thinking about Holly’s lips, imagining what it might feel like if they weren’t just talking—if they were pressed against hers, soft and warm.

If her tongue just happened to slip between them, into Gianna’s mouth.

If her hands tangled in Gianna’s hair, pulling her?—

Stop it , she told herself. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help tracing the curve of Holly’s bottom lip, admiring the faint hint of pink, imagining that she could taste the?—

“Gianna?” Holly’s voice snapped her out of the trance, but not before Gianna caught herself leaning just a little too close.

Shit.

“Sorry, this case is just…” she let her words falter and focused back on the paperwork in front of her, hoping Holly hadn’t noticed for the second time in the last five minutes that her thoughts had spiraled into dangerous territory.

Gianna needed to focus. No more distractions.

But no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept spiraling back to Holly’s hand, to the way the anesthesiologist’s finger had brushed so casually over Gianna’s like it was nothing.

And yet to Gianna, it felt like everything.

Focus , she scolded. She couldn’t afford to go down this road. Their friendship mattered too much. Besides, Holly wasn’t gay.

She wasn’t interested.

And she never would be.

Gianna just had to accept that and move on.

She didn’t have the luxury of lingering in what-ifs.

She had surgery to lead. A complex, high-risk procedure that required every ounce of her attention.

Her patient’s life depended on her. A tiny week-old baby called Liam Francis.

He deserved a surgeon who was sharp, focused, and completely present; a surgeon who could lock up her silly emotions.

She checked her watch and took a deep breath in, letting the air fill up her lungs and steady her heartbeat. Surgery was scheduled for an hour. She needed to speak to the parents, do the final prep, and after that, save a baby’s life.

Gianna pushed back her chair and stood up, straightening her shoulders “You ready?”

“Born ready,” Holly said, grinning.

“Good work,” Gianna said, leaning against the scrub sink, feeling the exhaustion finally settling in. Not that it came close to overpowering the success of the surgery. Every time she stepped out of the OR victorious, it felt like she could do anything, go anywhere.

Holly flashed a grin. “You too, G. That was absolutely flawless,” she added, drying her hands on a sterile towel. “That kid’s going to be running marathons one day.”

“Let’s just get him through recovery first,” Gianna said, stepping toward the counter to grab her phone. “So, what do you say we go out and celebrate? I’m thinking Italian and some expensive red wine. What about that little place just two blocks down from my house.”

“Sounds amazing,” Holly said, yanking the clip from her hair and releasing those golden locks. “But I can’t tonight. I’ve got that date with Brian, remember?”

Somehow, Gianna had forgotten. Or maybe her mind had just blanked on the details of Holly’s upcoming date.

Maybe her brain had filed away the information the same way it might bury the memory of a violent stomach flu or eating the flesh of a way too-ripe mango—a ploy to avoid any unnecessary trauma.

Not that it had worked.

“Of course,” Gianna said, nodding, pretending it didn’t sting a little. Which it did. Like a hornet exacting revenge. “Your no-seafood date with Brian.”

“I’m probably going to talk his ear off about today’s surgery,” Holly joked. “He might never want to see me again after tonight.”

“I doubt that,” Gianna replied, though it came out flatter than she meant it.

“I should get going,” Holly said, running a hand through her hair, thankfully oblivious to Gianna, whose excitement from the surgery was dwindling faster than an ice cube on a hot day.

“Still need to dig through my closet for something decent. You know me, I can spend hours agonizing over an outfit.”

“I’m sure you’ll look great,” Gianna said, forcing a smile, hating that she was falling into this pit of self-inflicted frustration.

It wasn’t rational, she knew that. But it didn’t stop the ache in her chest from growing, it didn’t stop her from wishing that she was the one to take Holly on a date tonight.

At least Holly didn’t notice. Or maybe she was just too eager to go, to get ready for her hot date with Brian. She was already turning toward the door when she said, “See you tomorrow.” And then she waved and headed out.

Gianna watched Holly go, her gaze lingering just a little too long on the sway of her slender hips, on the way she flicked her hair back over her shoulder.And when she was gone, and Gianna could hear the squeak of her sneakers echo in the hallway, she pulled out her phone.