Free Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) by Claire Adams Page A

listening to my thoughts through my
cranium. God, this guy is giving me the
shivers already.
    “Okay, enough of the
torturing comments for now,” Clemens added, finally cracking a smile. “Let’s
have a coffee and maybe a muffin or something to nibble on while we’re waiting
for our resident surgeon to make his appearance.
    You could have heard the
sigh of relief exhaled by all of the interns present in the lounge room.

 
    After getting a coffee
from the service counter, as Tiffany and I sat down at a table in the corner of
this café-style room, I asked her, “So, what do you think of Dr. Clemens?”
    “Gosh, Hattie, he’s worse
than I ever thought he would be. He’s not one you’d want to cross. I would melt
in shame at his feet if I did something wrong, I am sure.”
    “You said it, Tiff. The
guy is truly a chief, in every sense of the word. His tomahawk wouldn’t miss my
head if and when he decides to throw it at me. But in every regard, I think
it’s a good thing.”
    “Oh, why’s that?” Tiffany
asked raising her eyebrows in surprise.
    “It’s a bit like your
parents. They put you through hell, as you said, but without them you wouldn’t
have made it, right?” Tiffany nodded. “Well, I think with Chief Clemens at the
helm there’s very little chance of us failing. We’ve got to make it and make it
all the way.”
    “Sure, but I don’t know
if I can take that sort of pressure again.”
    “Listen to me, Tiff. It’s
not the same thing. Here you simply have to apply what you’ve learned and if
you’re not sure about something, your “Mr. Wonderful” from the parking garage
should be able to help you. Or it will be his head on the chopper block.”
    “I guess you’re right. No
one said it was going to be easy or even enjoyable, except when what you do
saves someone’s life.”
    “And you and I will save
more than one person’s life in our career. Yet, what people remember most in
our profession is not the number of people we save; it’s the number of people
who die because we cannot do more for them.”
    “You’re right, of course.
But I studied day and night to “enjoy” my work. I mean I love being a doctor,
and I want to be a trauma surgeon more than anything, but I don’t want to keep
thinking of what might go wrong. I don’t want to worry all the time. Otherwise,
I’ll go absolutely crazy.”
    “Me too, Tiff, me too.
We’ve got to stay positive.” I paused, taking a sip of my cooling down coffee.
“Tell me more about your Mr. Wonderful. How come you talked to him?”
    “Oh it’s just that I
dropped my keys as I came out of the elevator and he picked them up for me. He
has such a gorgeous smile…” Tiff commented dreamily. “Anyway, he said that he
saw me with Dr. Kerry while we were making our rounds yesterday and that he
would be pleased to take over once we came downstairs to ‘his dungeon’.”
    “Is that how he described
this place?” I looked around me.
    “I guess so. And I think
he was right. This is like a dungeon. There is no window anywhere, every wall
seems as thick as those of an old castle, and everything is so sound-proofed, I
bet you couldn’t hear anyone scream in here, even if you put your ear to the
wall.”
    Tiff
is right, I thought, it
certainly look and feel like a dungeon around here.
    “But you haven’t said how
he looks. He is tall and handsome I suppose.”
    “Oh yes. He’s about six
feet, dark brown hair, like his eyes. He is muscular and well put together, I
tell you. Besides which, his leather jacket and tailored slacks were not
el-cheapo stuff out of Walmart, either.”
    “Sounds like he’s the
antithesis of our Dr. Clemens, in appearance at least,” I remarked.
    As the word fell out of
my mouth, we heard Dr. Kerry recall us to attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt,
Doctors, but”—Tiffany and I turned in our chairs—“I’d like to introduce you to
your resident surgeon, Dr. Jeff Aldridge.”
    And yes, there he was