Flaming Desire - Part 1 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read Free

tubing, and more. Inspecting the crash carts and ensuring they were kept well stocked was the first thing I usually taught the new nurses. The carts were large, like rolling toolboxes found in auto shop garages, but with larger drawers. The top drawers contained some of the most common ER medications like epinephrine, lidocaine, dopamine, and sodium bicarbonate for cardiac patients coming in with heart attacks. Other drawers contained saline flush syringes, airway tubes, forceps, and scopes; always in high demand every time a patient was rolled in, especially those involved in auto accidents.
    I was to make sure that each cart had adequate supplies of surgeon’s gloves—even though boxes of sterile gloves were mounted on the inside wall next to every trauma bay door—sutures, suction catheters, and cut down packs. As part of my mentoring duties, Diane had also asked me to supervise training for all oncoming nurses when it came to not only dealing with crash cart supplies, but all aspects of the emergency room operations, including the emergency response communications system.
    I had been truthful when I told Serena that I liked being a mentor. I liked sharing my passion for nursing with others. I liked it here. I liked the people I worked with, or at least most of them. I took my job very seriously, right down to stocking the crash cart, staying on top of medical records, the dreaded charting and documentation.
    Melody and Serena and I had worked in the trauma unit the longest. We were here to stay though I was constantly aware that every few weeks or at least once a month, a new nurse rotated in and then disappeared.
    No doubt the high turnover was due to the high pressure, high-stress environment. I knew that many nurses didn’t realize what they were getting into when they signed on for an emergency room department shift. Here it could be gory, bloody, and scary. When a patient came into their emergency room, and most especially our trauma unit, they were usually in dire circumstances. They needed nurses that were on top of things; compassionate, skilled, and could function and make decisions quickly.
    Then there were the family members to deal with. Lots of crying and begging for information. Not all nurses could deal with that. Some snapped at the families, talked down to them, or were short-tempered and impatient with endless questions. There were days when I went home and cried in the shower, not just when I lost a patient, but because of the stress of dealing with families and their fears, pain, and heartbreak.
    “Well,” I sighed. “Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that this one—”
    “ Oh-my-God ,” Melody said, her voice nearly a whisper.
    I smiled at the sound of Melody’s voice as I pulled a small notepad from my pocket and began to jot down some quick notes for today’s mentoring session. I half-glanced at her, then paused, wondering at her expression. She stared at something over my shoulder. I turned to look.
    A tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired man had turned the corner of the hallway, heading toward the nurse’s station. He must be at least three or four inches over six feet.
    As he walked toward us, his expression blank, I tried to still the trip hammering of my heart and ignored the sudden and startling clench in the pit of my stomach. The more I stared at the guy, the more my blood raced and my nerves tingled.
    What the hell?
    I’d never reacted this way to a guy’s appearance. Never. Ever . Then again, I’d never seen someone quite like this guy. He walked with confidence while at the same time oozing sexual charm, as if the pheromones exuded from his body automatically sought out the opposite sex. Or more specifically, my sex.
    I didn’t even know how to compare his appearance to anyone I’d ever met before. To say that he looked better than one of Michelangelo’s famous statues was an understatement. No, too cliché. No, this guy was living, breathing, hot, sexy flesh.