Читать книгу Redeeming The Rebel Doc - Susan Carlisle - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

“RETRACTOR!” SNAPPED Dr. Rex Maxwell.

His surgical nurse quickly placed it in his palm.

“We need to find this bleeder. Suction.” With a gentle movement, Rex lifted the liver as his assistant, standing across the OR table from him at Metropolitan Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, obeyed his command.

Rex watched intently for any sign of red liquid. This patient had come through the emergency department the night before and one of his colleagues had patched the man up but the patient wasn’t recovering as he should. His midsection had swelled. There was internal bleeding. Rex was known as the “go-to man” who handled hard-to-find problems like this. He didn’t disappoint. Confident in his skills as a surgeon, his success rate had proved him more than competent. Except in one case.

His heart jumped as he spotted the problem. “Found it. Sutures.”

“That figures. You find them when no one else can,” the anesthesiologist said, admiration in his tone.

Rex looked over his mask at the man. “Thanks.”

Over the next few minutes Rex repaired the leak. He was almost finished when the phone on the wall rang. A nurse answered. Seconds later she hung up. “Rex, you’re wanted in Administration as soon as you’re done here.”

He muttered a word that his mother would scold him for using. Polite people didn’t use words like that. But, then, to her, life was about always making the right impression.

An hour later he trudged down the wide tiled hallway toward the hospital administration offices. With a patient in surgery prep who had been pushed back hours because of the bleeder, Rex should be back in surgery, not on his way to a meeting he wasn’t interested in being a part of. Hadn’t he spent enough time in the last twelve months with Dr. Nelson, the hospital administrator? Being arbitrarily summoned to Nelson’s office should have stopped when the unpleasant malpractice suit had been settled.

Rex had endlessly replayed the details of that night and that surgery in his mind and had told lawyers the tale of what had occurred more than once.

He’d been called in late on a Saturday night after having been to a club on a date. Since he had been on call he hadn’t been drinking and when he’d arrived at the hospital the patient had already been prepped for surgery. It hadn’t been until after he was in the OR that he’d learned his patient was Mr. Royster, the man who had been both his father’s best friend and chairman of the board of the country club when his father had filed for bankruptcy. Royster was also the father of Rex’s ex-girlfriend, who had dumped him because she’d been ashamed of being seen on Rex’s arm after his family’s financial downfall had become public knowledge.

The situation with Mr. Royster’s perforated stomach had by now deteriorated to the point that he’d had little chance of surviving even with surgery. The repair hadn’t been difficult but the chance of serious infection had been high. Less than twenty-four hours post-op Mr. Royster had steadily been going downhill. In another forty-eight, he was gone.

Devastated and grief-stricken to the point that they couldn’t accept what had happened, Royster’s family had lashed out by filing a malpractice suit against Rex, accusing him of not taking the necessary medical steps to save Royster’s life in retaliation for how he and his family had been ostracized all those years ago. Powered by the family’s money and influence, the case had gone further than it should have. The most damage had been done by the Roysters’ manipulation of the media, which had dragged the hospital into the nastiness.

The relationship between Rex and Dr. Nelson had been contentious at best while the hospital had been faced with the possibility of paying millions in damages. Rex’s career, as well as his and the hospital’s reputation, would still take years to repair. Thankfully, though, both he and the hospital had come through the experience bruised and battered, and both were still in business. So what could Dr. Nelson possibly want now?

Opening the glass door of the administrative suite, Rex went straight to the assistant’s desk. “Marsha, please let Dr. Nelson know I’m here.”

She nodded toward a closed door. “Go on in. He’s waiting on you.”

Relief washed through him. At least he didn’t have to waste time waiting. He checked his watch as he entered Nelson’s office. He was determined to get to his patient sooner rather than later. As Nelson looked up from his chair behind the desk, Rex closed the door.

Dr. Nelson waved him toward a chair. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.”

Rex dropped into the seat, elbows resting on his knees, and looked squarely at Dr. Nelson. “I have a patient waiting.”

“I won’t keep you long. After the unpleasantness of the last year, the hospital’s reputation has taken a hit. The community is left with the impression the hospital doesn’t provide quality service.”

Without thinking, Rex uttered that foul oath again. Dr. Nelson’s eyes narrowed. In turn, Rex straightened in his chair. “Everything about my service is high quality. Was and will be in the future. I’ll put my skills up against any surgeon’s.”

“The question is, does the public believe that?” Nelson countered. “This is a serious situation. I’m sure you’ve noticed the downward turn in your workload.”

“Yes, but I’m still very busy.” Rex was confident people would soon forget about the long-drawn-out court case. Especially since it was no longer nightly news. Time was the secret. After all, he’d lived through scandal before and survived.

Dr. Nelson’s face sobered. He leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk and clasping his hands. Maybe there was more to this meeting than Rex had originally thought. He gave Mr. Nelson his full attention.

“Because of the situation, the board of directors has decided to bring in a public relations firm to help minimize the fallout. With the hospital accreditation committee planning a visit at the end of the month, we need to bolster public opinion as much as possible. Since you were involved in the lawsuit they want your cooperation in the matter. The idea is that if the public perception of you improves then so will the hospital’s and vice versa.”

Rex held back a frustrated groan. Nelson must be joking. There wasn’t time in his day for PR stuff. Instead of voicing his real opinion, he said, “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“It’s not what I think but what the board has decided. However, I agree with them. I expect your full cooperation.”

Rex started to open his mouth.

Dr. Nelson raised his hand. “The board knows you’re a talented, dedicated doctor. They want to keep you but the hospital’s reputation must improve. If you plan to continue working here, I highly recommend you go along with this.”

Rex was invested in Metropolitan Hospital. With his surgical skills he could work anywhere, but that wouldn’t be enough to get him the promotions he craved and if he were to leave it was highly likely that any hospital he applied to would take a dim view of him, given the malpractice lawsuit, even though he had been legally cleared.

He’d been able to start work at Metropolitan as his own person without the worry of the negative connotations of his family name. He’d been exceptionally successful, despite being what some would call a free spirit. There had been no issues until this recent incident and he didn’t anticipate any more problems in his future. His intention was to achieve the position of departmental head in this hospital.

Now he was being pressured into unnecessary PR nonsense with no say in the matter.

Just like when he had been a teen and his family had become the subject of too much outside attention.

After his family’s fall from their high-society status, he’d vowed he would never be forced into putting on a façade to impress people. However, it seemed that that was what it was going to take if he wanted to achieve his goals in medicine. Even though experience had taught him that putting a pretty face on an ugly reality could backfire badly.

His mother and father had lived that way. The best clothes, nice cars, private school for their children, big house and membership to an exclusive country club. The problem was that they couldn’t afford it. Everything had been outward appearance and no substance. When Rex had been seventeen it had all come crashing down. His parents had been exposed and the family had gone bankrupt.

Reality was a too-small apartment on the other side of town, a ten-year-old car, cheap clothes and no more country club.

Most of Rex’s friends had turned their backs on him because they’d no longer had anything in common. What had really hurt, though, had been the girl he’d been in love with ending their relationship. When he’d been snubbed by country club snobs, she’d declared they had no future. He wasn’t enough for her. So much for love.

Rex had promised himself then that he’d never judge someone by where they lived or what they drove, neither would he ever put on pretensions of wealth and social status to impress again. He was who he was. People could like him or not. That was one of the reasons he wore a T-shirt, jeans and boots to work. He might be a well-paid physician, but his open, honest lifestyle had nothing to do with his salary, his brain or his skills in the OR. He would not tolerate pretense in his life.

Forcing his attention back to the dilemma Dr. Nelson had just created for him, he decided that during this new PR push he’d just lie low and concentrate on his patients. Refuse to get any more involved than he absolutely had to. He had nothing to prove to anyone and nothing to hide.

The moment Rex sighed, satisfied with his decision, Nelson punched a button and told his assistant to send in Ms. Romano.

* * *

Tiffani Romano waited apprehensively in the outer office of the administrator. She’d already seen Dr. Nelson but he’d asked her to wait while he spoke to Dr. Maxwell in private, then he would introduce them.

When her boss at Whitlock Public Relations had asked her into his office and explained that Metropolitan Hospital wanted to hire the firm to improve their image she had been excited that he was putting her in charge of the job. Tiffani saw this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to advance in the company. Success in the campaign would give her the two things she desperately wanted—a promotion that would move her to the corporate office in another city and the chance to no longer encounter Lou, her ex-boyfriend, daily.

The only glitch was that she had no respect for the medical community. She knew from personal experience that doctors were only interested in themselves and cared little about the patients whose lives they ruined instead of healed.

When she’d been a child her father had been crippled in a motorcycle accident and he had lost one leg completely and part of another, condemning him to a wheelchair. The situation had made him a very bitter man. To this day, he insisted the doctors had done nothing to save his lower limbs. With his lack of mobility had gone his desire for life—his only joy to be found at the bottom of a bottle or in the comfort of prescription drugs. These tragedies had been underscored by his sullenness, all making it impossible for him to hold down a job.

Her mother had supported her father’s vendetta. Suffering through her father’s recovery and attitude about his life, the lawsuit he’d pursued against the physicians and hospital, and having little money, she had been almost as unpleasant as her husband. She’d soon divorced Tiffani’s father and the once happy household had changed to one of permanent misery. Nothing had been the same after that fateful day.

Her father still complained about how he had been mistreated. Today he was wasting away at an assisted living home, spending more of his time in bed than out. It made Tiffani miserable to visit him and see him like that, but he was her father and she loved him.

Would Dr. Maxwell, with whom she’d have to work closely, be any different than the doctors who had destroyed her father? From what she had read and seen on the news about the malpractice case, she’d believed Maxwell guilty. Nevertheless, he’d been cleared of all charges. She wasn’t surprised. Like all physicians, she was sure he’d played God with someone’s life with no thought to what would happen to the patient afterward, or the effects on the family. Her father lived in pain daily because of hasty decisions and half-efforts his doctors had made. Though her father had survived, unlike Maxwell’s victim, his life and the lives of his family had been destroyed.

Regardless of Dr. Maxwell’s devil-may-care attitude, his surgical success rate was above average. That could be used to her advantage if she could keep him in check long enough to achieve the “you-can-trust-me” crusade she envisioned. Her intense month-long strategy was to boldly make him the face people associated with the hospital. It was an ambitious plan and she had no time for indecisiveness or uncertainty.

She would keep her opinions on the medical field to herself and convince him that it was in his best interest, and the hospital’s, to cooperate with her plans. The board expected positive results and she intended to deliver. Doing so was too important to both her career goals and her sanity.

She gripped the business satchel lying on her lap tighter. The merest hope of never again seeing Lou’s smug face fueled her determination. Unfortunately, fate had chosen Dr. Maxwell as the key to making that flickering hope her reality.

A young doctor walked past without glancing at Tiffani and sidled up to Dr. Nelson’s assistant’s desk. With a warm smile, he asked for permission to see Dr. Nelson.

Tiffani surmised the tall, tan man wearing the green scrubs with cheerfully bright headwear over long dark hair bound at the nap of his neck was her soon-to-be PR project, Dr. Maxwell. Despite her distaste for his profession she couldn’t deny that he was attractive. In fact, he might be the most interesting man she had ever seen. She couldn’t let herself be distracted by that, though, he was still a doctor.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Nelson’s assistant caught her attention and said he was ready to see her. Entering the office with confidence, Tiffani saw Dr. Nelson still seated behind his desk and the doctor in scrubs slumped in a chair with his hands in his lap. She could feel defiance radiating from him even though his expression was professionally polite.

Dr. Nelson stood, arms wide and palms up. “Come in, come in, Ms. Romano. I’d like you to meet Dr. Rex Maxwell.”

The doctor had the good manners to stand and extend his hand. His long fingers circled hers. The clasp was firm, warm. His dark brown eyes searched hers intently for a moment before he released her hand.

“Please, both of you, sit down,” Dr. Nelson said, taking his seat again.

Tiffani took the chair beside the doctor. He glanced at her before turning those sharp eyes on Dr. Nelson, who said, “I’ve explained the situation to Dr. Maxwell and he’s willing to give you his full support.”

Dr. Maxwell shifted in his seat. She glanced at him. His attention seemed focused on a small statue on the shelf behind Dr. Nelson’s desk. He didn’t look pleased.

The older man continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “Both of you are professionals. I know you’ll handle this project discreetly. With great aplomb. I expect a report in a week that I can give the board.” He paused to look at each of them. “I’m here to help and I look forward to this being a meaningful, productive and very successful project. Please, call on me if there are any issues.”

Dr. Maxwell stood, passing behind her chair on his way out. He was already in the hallway before Tiffani could gather her purse and bag. She looked at Nelson but he merely watched as she raced after the most important element to her plan. Her timetable required transforming her ideas into reality right away. That meant immediately getting better acquainted with Dr. Maxwell. He, however, was a good way down the long hall and using a stride she found difficult to match.

She called his name but he didn’t slow or even look back as he briskly continued. The rapid tap, tap, tap of her heels echoed off the walls so he had to know she was behind him. As he slowed in front of a closed elevator door she finally caught up and grabbed his arm. To her amazement, he looked surprised to see her and glanced at where her hand rested.

Tiffani released him and said breathlessly, “I’ve been trying to get your attention since we left Dr. Nelson’s office.”

“I have a patient waiting.” He pushed the button for the elevator again. The doors opened.

“We need to talk. I have plans to implement.”

He stepped into the elevator, his gaze meeting hers.

She pursed her lips, hitched her bag strap more securely on her shoulder and stepped aboard just as the door was closing.

His eyes widened. “This is a staff-only elevator.”

“Then I’ll get off when you do. Right now, I am going to talk to you.” She was determined to pin him down to a time they could meet. Timing was everything in this campaign.

He gave her a pointed look. “Ms. Romeo, I don’t have time to waste right now.”

They faced each other like two bulls in a box. She had no intention of letting this man dismiss her. Meeting his obstinate expression with one of her own, she said tightly, “It is Ms. Romano. How soon can you meet with me?”

“I don’t know how long this surgery will take. You handle things without me.”

The elevator stopped. There was a ding before the doors opened. He almost jumped in his haste to get out. Tiffani didn’t hesitate to follow. “So I’m to make the decisions and give you the details?”

He kept walking. “Works for me.”

She stayed with him, saying in a stern voice, “This project will only be successful if you play a significant part.”

They soon faced closed double doors.

Eyes locked on those doors, he removed his badge and swiped it over an ID pad as he announced, “Look, I have patients to see. I have neither the time nor the interest in being a part of your PR campaign.”

The doors opened. He went through.

She did too. “Dr. Maxwell, Dr. Nelson told me you’re willing to give this campaign your full support. Did you lie to him or was he lying to me?”

He stopped so suddenly she almost bumped into his backside. “You can’t be in here.”

“What?” She didn’t understand the abrupt change in the conversation.

“This is the surgery suite. Didn’t you read any of the signs?” he asked, as if she were a four-year-old.

“Uh, no, I didn’t.”

“Are you planning to follow me into the OR?”

“No.” She certainly had zero interest in doing that. She’d seen enough gore to last her a lifetime, having had to help care for her father. She had started cleaning and bandaging his wounds while she’d been in middle school.

“It was nice to meet you, Ms. Romano,” he said stiffly, before he turned and walked away, dismissing her.

Furious, Tiffani backtracked her way to Dr. Nelson’s office. The return trip calmed her and she sighed. Somehow, she had to gain Dr. Maxwell’s cooperation. Without Dr. Maxwell there was no successful PR crusade, no promotion and no escaping her past.

* * *

Rex had been fairly certain when he’d entered Nelson’s office that he wasn’t going to like whatever the meeting topic was, and then Nelson had caught him off guard with the stupid PR project. Rex had barely been able to conceal his disgust. He hated being forced to be part of another dog-and-pony show at this point in his life, his career. The hospital would survive the recent bad press, just as he had. All that was needed was time. That was what it had taken after the bubble had burst when he’d been a kid. He’d gotten over the lies and what he had believed about his family. He was a better man, a bluntly honest one, thanks to the experience.

No, participating in a cover-up to make everything squeaky clean was something he refused to do. Shouldn’t have to. Proving his abilities as a surgeon was unnecessary. He already knew he was good. The people he’d saved before and after Royster were proof enough.

* * *

Late that evening, with his patient doing well, he finally got back to his office. The voice mail light was blinking. Ms. Romano’s, stating she would like to meet with him first thing in the morning, was the third message. Rex harrumphed. He’d bet she had no idea that his day started at five thirty. She could figure that out on her own. He didn’t feel like dealing with her nonsense.

With her dark hair twisted tightly and her expensive-looking navy blue business suit, Ms. Romano struck him as an uptight bit of fluff. Someone trying to project an aura of authority, with her don’t-mess-with-me attitude. The only hint that she might have a softer side had been the glimpse of cleavage in the V of her white silk blouse.

Long ago he’d gotten beyond being impressed by what a person wore. Still, something about Ms. Romano’s attire made him think she was trying to make a point to the world. He wasn’t interested in being a part of her road to redemption or whatever she was after.

His allegiance lay with the free spirits of the world, those willing to live their lives without worrying about public opinion. Ms. Romano’s job alone said she cared too much about what people thought. He’d leave making the hospital look good to her and go on about his business.

* * *

The next evening it was well past dinnertime when he finally made it back to his office. Intent on grabbing his jacket, finding a hot meal and going home to bed, he opened the door and froze as he reached for his coat. Ms. Romano sat in one of his two visitors’ chairs.

She jerked upright in her seat. The file that had been in her hands fell to the floor, scattering papers everywhere.

Had she been asleep? “Ms. Romano?”

“Uh...yeah.” She pushed a loose tendril of hair back from her face. “The cleaning person was coming out when I arrived. I told him you were expecting me.”

Rex would have to speak to the housekeeping staff about letting people into his office when he wasn’t there. Obviously Ms. Romano didn’t mind doing whatever it took to get her way. Ignoring her wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.

She bent and started gathering her papers. “You didn’t return my calls.”

Rex went down on his heels to help her. “I’ve been here since 2:00 a.m.”

Lowering her chin, she said, “I thought you were just dodging me.”

Guilt pricked him. Ms. Romano said what she thought. She was honest. He respected that. Continuing to pick up the fallen pages, he was adding them to the growing stack in his hand when he glanced down at one of them and saw his name. He looked at her. “Is this your research portfolio on me?”

Her dark green eyes rose to meet his. “You’re an important part of my plan. I need to know all I can about you.” She took the papers from his hands and stood.

Rex did as well, snapping, “The hospital should be the focus, not me.”

“This is about you too. I can drag you in kicking and screaming but you’re still going to be a part of the campaign.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “And just how do you plan to do that?”

“As I said before, Mr. Nelson assured me you would cooperate with me.” Her obstinate expression didn’t waver.

Rex detested her threat of blackmail, but he didn’t want Dr. Nelson aware of his determination to take as small a role as possible in this PR nonsense. “Look, I’ve had a long day. I’m tired and hungry. Can’t we do this later?”

“No. We’ve already lost twenty-four hours. We don’t have time to waste.”

He let out a deep sigh of disgust and sank into his desk chair. “Then let’s get on with it. I’m hungry and need some sleep.”

She apparently wasn’t in the least bit sympathetic that he’d been at the hospital for eighteen hours.

She placed the folder on his desk in front of her, opened it and sorted papers with precision.

Maybe all he’d be required to do was to listen while she talked. He had naught to contribute, except that he wanted nothing to do with this complete waste of his time and the hospital’s resources.

“I need to go over a few things with you so I can make calls first thing in the morning. We have such a small window of opportunity we’ve got to immediately start pitching ideas to the media.”

Rex watched her continue to organize her papers. At this rate, it would be a long month.

“I have some very exciting ideas I want to run by you,” she said in a swift, cheerful manner.

Rex knew better than to ask but did so anyway. “Such as?”

“I’d like to do an ‘in-your-face’ campaign. I want to show the hospital trusts you enough to make you their ambassador. Put it right up front. ‘Neither I nor the hospital was guilty of malpractice. You can trust us with all your health needs.’” She pointedly looked at him. “If you gain people’s trust then the hospital will be trusted too. It all works hand in hand. I have in mind you doing a couple of medical segments on some morning talk shows. Maybe talk about sports health. Hopefully put an article in Memphis Magazine. But time might be against us there.” She was talking fast while flipping through her portfolio. “A newspaper ad on Sundays might be very effective. People need to get to know the real you.”

The PR woman was in her zone. A sour taste formed in his mouth. She seemed to no longer be aware he sat across from her.

Any hope of not being overly involved was waning fast. He had to put the brakes on this madness. A little louder than necessary, he announced, “People who have met me do know the real me. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of. I’m not about to rub elbows and smile ingratiatingly at the same people who were burning me at the stake a month ago.”

She kept her attention on her file, which was now tightly clenched in her fists. “Yes, you will! Not everyone trusts doctors and hospitals. To have any hope of swaying public opinion in your favor, we need to get the media on our side ASAP.”

Rex narrowed his eyes and watched her closely. “So, what’s in this for you?”

With a startled jerk, she looked directly at him. “What do you mean?”

“I know why I should be so interested in improving the hospital’s rep, and even mine, but why’re you so enthusiastic about it?”

She studied him for a moment then said with a harsh note in her tone, “Because it’s my job.”

Had he hit on something? “It seems to me you’re going beyond the call of duty to sit in my office, waiting on me for who knows how long, working overtime on just another job.”

“If I pull this off, with your help, I have a real chance at a promotion I really want. Need, in fact.”

There was her blunt honesty again.

“I see.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t but that isn’t the issue.” She looked away. “I want to have a couple of billboards put up around town. Have people see that the hospital is here for them and that you are part of what makes it...great.” She faltered on the last word. As if she weren’t sure it was the correct one.

“Me?”

“I want you on the billboard, standing in front of a picture of the hospital. With a healthy, happy patient. You know that kind of thing.” She absentmindedly waved one hand in the air.

Rex’s insides tightened. His hunger had vanished. This was starting to sound like what his parents had done when he’d been a kid. Make their family look all perfect on the outside. He turned his head to the side and looked down his nose at her. “You want my picture on a billboard?”

“That’s right.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“We need to put you out there in front of the public. Let them know who you really are.”

Rex leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “I don’t think me being on a billboard is going to tell them anything.”

Her expression was stony. “Dr. Nelson thought it was a good idea.”

She was playing hardball again. Rex felt the walls closing in. He was being left no choice. If he wanted to keep his job, or any chance of becoming department head anytime soon, he would have to go along with this. But he wouldn’t make it easy. “I don’t have time for these extracurricular activities. My surgical practice and responsibilities to my patients monopolize my time.”

“We’ll work around your schedule.”

His refusal, his objection hadn’t even slowed her down.

She studied him a moment. “One more thing. We need to work on your image.”

His gut tightened. This was getting worse by the minute. “What’s wrong with my image? My appearance is part of my identity.”

After looking him over for a moment, she answered in a quiet but steely voice, “You have a bad-boy image. One that has to be softened up a little bit.”

“And just how do you plan to do that?”

“A haircut here, some clothes there.”

This was going too far. “Not going to happen. I don’t do makeovers. You can talk to Nelson all you want but that’s stepping over the line.”

She slipped the now organized papers into her folder. “After this campaign, you can go back to your slouchy, unkempt look, but you will look sharp and reliable for the media. You think about it. From what I understand, this is all sanctioned by the board. I’m not telling you your business but can you really afford to go against them?”

He hated this. Everything about it brought back memories he’d thought he had gotten beyond. “Again, where do I find time for this makeover to happen?”

“Don’t you have a day off?” She sounded as if it wasn’t a big deal for him to get away.

Yeah, but not one he wanted to spend her way. “Tomorrow, in fact.”

“Perfect. I’ll make an appointment with my hairdresser for tomorrow afternoon. First we’ll do a little shopping. So, I’ll be on my way. Goodnight.” She stood, put her bag over her shoulder and turned toward the door.

“Hey, wait a minute. You don’t need to be going to your car alone at this time of night.” Rex picked up his jacket.

She had stopped and was looking back at him. “I’ll be fine. I’m in the main parking lot up front.”

“I’m still going to walk you out.”

She shrugged and walked away. He followed. They said nothing to each other as they went down in the elevator and stepped out into the parking lot. The silence wasn’t so much uncomfortable as it was mutual.

“This is it,” she said when they reached a white compact car. With a click, she unlocked it with her fob. “Why don’t you get in? I’ll take you to your car.”

Rex wavered a moment, fearing that if he managed to get his long body in he might not be able to get it out. “My bike is in the back. I don’t mind walking.”

“You ride a motorcycle?” The unusual high note in her voice irritated him.

“Yes. You mean that wasn’t in your notes?”

Her perplexed demeanor was almost comical. Had she really thought that everything there was to know about him was in black and white in her folder? “Actually, it wasn’t, but it should have been.”

He was tired of being under the microscope. First the malpractice suit and now this. He liked his motorcycle. Liked the freedom. The lack of restriction. The fact that he was snubbing people like the ones in his past social circle made it even more fun. “Is me riding a bike a problem?”

“It could be,” she said, as if pondering the issue, climbing in and closing her car door, leaving him with the unfortunate feeling he had just become the dog in her dog-and-pony show.