The Cop's Doc

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"What the hell happened to you?"

Jocelyne cringed, even as she tried to slip by the reception desk. Just a few more feet and she would have been safely tucked into her office. Well, it was more of a closet than an office, but it had a door and right now privacy was of a paramount concern.

"I'll just-"

"Owen! Owen, get out here."

Jocelyne cringed as Vivi bellowed. Amazing that such volume could come from such a small package. An office door popped open and Dr. Owen MacCauley stepped out from his office.

"Really, Vivi, the intercom works, I promise." When he saw Jocelyne, however, he stopped. Instantly, he was in physician mode. "Exam room three is available." Without waiting for a response, he reached for her elbow.

"I'm okay, Dr. MacCauley, really. It's not my blood."

He only clucked his teeth as he led her to the exam room. Short of balking, she had little choice and since he was her boss, she gave in as gracefully as she could. Once in the exam room, she eased herself onto the table. As she had earlier, Owen snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. He sat on the stool and rolled over to her. First he reached for her hands and held them as he examined her palms.

"I know this hurts," he said soothingly, "but there's grit and I see a couple of pieces of glass." He looked closer and sniffed. "Were you wearing latex gloves?"

She wasn't going to ask how he'd made that deduction. No sense in lying. "Yes, there was a first aid kit. I applied pressure to a laceration."

His brow quirked at her use of the medical term. "Is that all you did?" He took a cotton swab and began to lightly brush her hands.

"Really, I can do this myself." She took a breath. "Look, I'm really sorry I'm late. I'll work through lunch to get caught up."

The brown eyes, which had been soft in concern, now turned to steel. "You think I care about that? Jocelyne, you've been hurt." With that, he went back to tending her hands. His touch was gentle, but it still hurt when he applied the alcohol to cleanse the wound.

"Okay, that was great-"

He lay a hand on her thigh and she knew she was busted.

"You need to take your pants off."

"Really, you can't treat me because I work for you."

"Actually, you work for Marco as he was the one who hired you. I'll make it simple for you. Let me clean your wounded knees and you can be on your way or I'll drive you to the hospital and they'll clean you up there."

She swallowed convulsively. "On my way? You're firing me?"

His head shot up. "Firing you? No, I meant you can go work or, better yet, go home. I'm not sure you should be working after the morning you've obviously had."

Suppressing the urge to laugh, Jocelyne nodded. This morning had been a walk in the park in comparison to some of the days she'd put in at the hospital back in Montréal. Twelve hour days with back-to-back-to-back traumas weren't that uncommon. One day there had been a bad bus crash and her hospital had taken in six critical patients. Jocelyne had operated on three of them. No, one hit-and-run was child's play.

"I don't have any spare clothes."

He looked up. "I have a spare pair of scrubs. They're clean. They should fit."

It might have sounded ridiculous, but scrubs were scrubs and although she was a few inches shorter and had breasts, she was pretty comparable in size to her boss. She wasn't fooled when he tried to say he wasn't her boss. She did billing for all the doctors in the clinic so it would technically be against the rules for any of them to treat her. Of course this was more first aid than actual treatment. He wouldn't bill anyone for this. If she went to the hospital she would either have to heft over her Québec provincial heath care card or pay cash. Until she got her first paycheque, she was strapped for cash, so that option was out.