Officer, Surgeon...Gentleman!

Running his fingertips over the man’s cervical lymph nodes, he felt swollen glands. “That sore?”

Wincing, the man nodded.

The soldier’s submandibular, pre- and post-cervical and auricular nodes were all enlarged and tender.

The man’s heart rate was increased, but that wasn’t uncommon when febrile. Lungs sounded raspy with a soft inspiratory wheeze in both lower lobes. There was no abdominal tenderness, although the man had reported some digestive trouble over the past twenty-four hours.

“I’m going to start you on medication.” Cole told him the names of the medicines and what each was for.

The man nodded his understanding.

“Unfortunately, you are infectious. I can’t let you return to your berthing quarters.”

Nodding, the man looked as if he’d expected as much. “I’ll be sleeping in quarantine?”

“Yes.” Cole let his nurse know the man would need to be put in quarantine, along with several others who were also suffering from the virus that had hit the ship. Keeping the virus from spreading to the rest of the crew was of paramount importance.

“There’s an abdominal pain in bay one. Lieutenant Sanchez,” Richard informed him. “Dr Stockton is in with her. She asked for a consult when you finished.”

Amelia. With the viral outbreak, they’d been so busy they’d not had any more serious talks, only skimmed the surface, being cordial, being polite, only occasional unguarded glances hinting at what lay beneath.

“Knock, knock,” Cole said, rounding the curtain to enter bay one and take in the scene before him.

Amelia looked fabulous in her khaki pants and navy knit shirt, the collar turned down at the base of her throat. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her eyes held compassion as she examined her patient.

A softly crying pretty Hispanic woman lay on the exam table, her arms crossed protectively over her ample chest.

Having been bent over the woman, stethoscope in her ears while listening to the woman’s lower abdomen, Amelia glanced up, seeming surprised to see him. She straightened. “I’m sorry, Dr Stanley, but I don’t need your help after all.”

“You’re sure?” Cole’s brows drew together. She didn’t want him to consult? Were they reverting back to that? He didn’t buy it. Amelia was a wonderful doctor, one Cole trusted implicitly. Her professionalism and ethics wouldn’t allow her to put a patient at risk for personal reasons. “It’s no problem for me to have a quick look.”

She shook her head, conveying with her eyes that she’d like him to leave without making a big deal of it. What was going on?

Making a quick decision, he shrugged. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks.” She waved him out and turned her attention back to her patient.

Half an hour later, he caught her coming out of the medical office. “Earlier, you released the abdominal pain without observatio

n. False alarm?”

“Not really.” She didn’t meet his eyes, which sent up warning flags left and right.

“What was wrong?”

“I’d rather not discuss my patient.”

He eyed her curiously.

“Look,” she began, “it’s not my place to tell you. There are a few things on this ship that are still private, believe it or not. I won’t break patient confidentiality unnecessarily.”

“How is consulting with me about an abdominal pain patient a breach of confidentiality?” he asked in frustration. “I’m the surgeon.”

“Not all abdominal pains require a surgeon.”

“This one didn’t?”

“Obviously not or I would have gotten you to check her rather than asking you to leave.”