Читать книгу Romancing the M.D. - Maureen Smith - Страница 11

Over the next three days, Tamara and Victor went to great pains to try to avoid each other. If Tamara entered the on-call room where Victor was napping on the bottom bunk bed, she turned and hurried back out the door. If Victor strode into the cafeteria and saw Tamara seated alone at a table, he acknowledged her presence with a brusque nod and kept walking. They were constantly on the move—examining patients, reviewing charts, dispensing prescriptions, rushing into emergencies to save the sick and dying. Yet they were part of a team, so try as they might, it was impossible for either of them to pretend the other didn’t exist.

On Friday afternoon, they were summoned to the chief of staff’s office to learn the fate of the research grant they were both vying for. They sat stiffly beside each other as Dr. Dudley informed them that the hospital’s grant committee had decided to put a freeze on all funding projects pending the outcome of the Matthews lawsuit.

“I know you’re both disappointed,” Dr. Dudley said at the end of his spiel, “and I wish I had better news to share with you at this time. But, unfortunately, none of us could have foreseen the unsavory circumstances that would befall the hospital.”

“Of course,” Tamara murmured, injecting an appropriate amount of deference into her voice. “We understand.”

“Speak for yourself,” Victor said shortly.

Both Tamara and Dr. Dudley stared at him in surprise.

“I beg your pardon?” the chief of staff demanded imperiously.

“With all due respect, sir,” Victor said, leaning forward in his chair as he pinned the older man with a direct gaze. “I don’t understand why funding for the research grant has to be postponed. I mean, I realize that this frivolous lawsuit has everyone shaking in their boots—”

“Dr. Aguilar—”

“—but let’s be honest here. This hospital rakes in millions a year in financial donations. We treat senators and media moguls and insanely rich philanthropists. Our mission statement boasts that we’re on the cutting edge of medicine. Dr. St. John and I are each working on important research that could save countless lives and bring even more prestige to this institute. But we can’t do it on a shoestring budget. We need more funding in order to continue our work. But I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that a bunch of bureaucrats fail to grasp that basic concept.”

“Dr. Aguilar,” the chief of staff blustered indignantly, “you are way out of line! You may not agree with the committee’s decision, but you’ll damn well respect it. Furthermore, you and Dr. St. John are more than welcome to explore other funding sources. There are a number of organizations and societies—”

“I know.” Victor’s cool, narrow smile reeked of belligerence. “I guess I was just hoping that the hospital would honor its commitment to always put patient care above bureaucracy, which is what we were all promised upon acceptance into the residency program. But I guess some promises aren’t worth keeping around here.”

Face suffused with outrage, Dr. Dudley jabbed a warning finger at Victor. “Now you listen here—”

Tamara jumped out of her chair. “Goodness, where has the time gone?” she exclaimed, making an exaggerated show of checking her watch. “I really hate to cut and run, Dr. Dudley, but Victor and I have another meeting to attend, and Dr. Balmer doesn’t tolerate tardiness. So—” she grabbed Victor’s rigid arm and tugged him to his feet “—we’re just going to go and leave you to your work. We know what a busy man you are.”

“Yes, I am.” Dr. Dudley glared reproachfully at Victor, whose expression had turned downright surly. “You may be a gifted doctor, Aguilar, but you’ve got a hell of a lot to learn about organizational structure.”

Before Victor could open his mouth to respond, Tamara smoothly interjected, “He’ll take that under advisement, sir. Thank you.” And with that, she ushered Victor out of the office, which was about as easy as dragging a wild stallion up a rocky gorge.

Once they left the outer reception area occupied by Dr. Dudley’s assistant—whose mouth was agape—Victor shook off Tamara’s hold and stalked off down the corridor.

She marched after him, seething with frustration. Reaching him at the elevator, she burst out incredulously, “Have you lost your damn mind? What the hell’s gotten into you, talking to Dudley like that?”

“Vete al carajo,” Victor muttered darkly, stabbing the elevator button.

“What? Did you just tell me to go to hell?”

“Damn right I did,” he growled, rounding furiously on her. “And let’s get something straight right now. I’m not a damn child who needs to be censored. I meant every word I said to Dudley, so I don’t need you to intervene on my behalf!”

“Are you serious? You should be thanking me!”

“Thanking you!” he repeated, his thick brows slamming together over his flashing eyes. “What the hell should I thank you for?”

“I just saved your ass in there! In case you’ve forgotten, Dr. Dudley is the chief of staff. After the way you just mouthed off to him, he could kick you out of the program!”

Victor scowled. “Like you give a damn.”

“I don’t