Redeeming the Rebel Doc

by Susan Carlisle

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TWO DAYS HAD slipped by since Tiffani had last seen Rex. During that time she’d relived that instant between them at the photo shoot, when his breath had warmed against her skin. He’d had her so aware of the sexual tension between them she’d almost knocked over an expensive camera, trying to escape.

  The man was outrageous. She must not let him get past her self-control. This campaign was too important. Rex was attractive but she could not afford to react to him like that. Nothing but pain followed that kind of arousing interest anyway. He was merely toying with her for his own amusement. Just as Lou had.

  Yet in those few seconds she’d felt outrageously alive. Once again she had to admit that having a handsome man notice her bandaged her secret, still-raw wound.

  Even with the heated thoughts running laps in her mind over the last few days, she’d managed to accomplish a great deal of work. So far, her plan was coming together nicely, in spite of Rex. Luke had promised to get pictures to her as soon as possible. The billboard company had three available and by the beginning of next week Rex would be on them, larger than life in front of a gorgeous shot of the hospital. She had also booked him on two morning shows. Now all she needed to do was continue to generate positive press and social media action, some of which would happen this weekend.

  She sent Rex a text.

  Can you meet me at nine in the morning at the hospital? I’ve arranged for us to visit a local clinic for a photo op.

  Half an hour later her phone buzzed, notifying her of his answer.

  Yes, but I pick the clinic.

  What clinic? I need to let the photographer know.

  Rex wrote back.

  No cameras.

  She didn’t even try to change his mind. Any pictures she got she’d have to take on her phone. They would look less staged anyway. Perfect for what she had in mind.

  * * *

  The next morning, Tiffani arrived at the hospital at nine. As she walked across the parking lot toward the main entrance, a horn honked. An old orange truck was coming toward her. She hurried out of the way. At another short blast, she took a closer look. Rex was driving.

  He pulled up beside her and leaned out the window. “Hey, good-looking, hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

  Rex thought she was attractive? Her stomach fluttered at the idea. She gave the truck a long disapproving look. In the movies, when a man used that old line he was usually driving a nice sports car. Grinning, he lifted one shoulder. “You’re the one who told me to get something beside a motorcycle.”

  She quirked her mouth. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Don’t be thinking bad thoughts about Bessie.” He patted the dash. “She can get you where you need to go. Come on, have a little sense of adventure. Lighten up a little.” He revved the engine. “See, she’s raring to go.”

  Tiffani barked a laugh. “Okay. Just this once.”

  Rex leaned across the seat and pushed the passenger door open. She climbed in, grateful she’d worn jeans. “So Bessie is your spare vehicle?”

  “Nope. I borrowed her from a buddy just for you. I knew from the way you turned up your nose the other day you wouldn’t ride on my motorcycle.”

  She wouldn’t have. After what had happened to her father, she had no intention of getting on one. Rubbing her hand over the old but clean seat, she said, “You’re right about that. Where’re we going?”

  “To a clinic over in High Water,” Rex replied, as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  She couldn’t keep astonishment out of her voice. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  High Water was an area of the city known for crime and poverty. Why had he picked there, of all places? For whatever reason, it would certainly make for good PR. She envisioned the headline: “Metropolitan Hospital’s surgeon spends day off helping out in High Water.” She couldn’t go wrong with this material. Even so, she had to know. “Why there?”

  “Because they need the help.” His tone was flat and his eyes never left the road.

  She studied him. He had both hands on the steering wheel. They were capable and strong, which she was well aware of because they had been on her body. For some reason that thought sent a zip of heat through her. Firmly instructing herself not to go there, she asked, “What do you usually do on your days off?”

  “Is that question work related or personal?” He gave her a brief glance.

  “Maybe both. I just wanted to get to know you better.” She really meant it.

  “Mostly I work at the clinic.”

  “What?”

  He changed lanes and headed toward an exit. “Don’t sound so surprised. I work at the High Water Clinic. I helped start it, along with a couple of other doctors in town.”

  “You’re kidding.” She maneuvered in her seat so she could easily see his profile.

  “You really don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you? You’ve been reading what the newspapers have to say. Tiff, you do know you can’t believe everything you read, right?” he asked in a singsong voice.

  Tiff? Since when did he call her by a nickname? More important, how had she missed such a crucial PR point? “Nowhere in my research did it say anything about you being connected to that clinic.”

  He exited the interstate, stopped at a traffic light then turned to look at her. “Because it isn’t public knowledge and I’d like it to stay that way.”

  “But this is perfect PR material. The morning shows will eat it up.” Anticipation flowed through her. This campaign had a real chance of succeeding beyond her wildest dreams.

  He grimaced. “Please, don’t do that. These people are hard to win over. If you bring in news crews and they start asking all kinds of questions, it might take some of them years to trust the clinic again.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Then why’re you taking me?”

  “I guess I wanted you to see the real me. That there’s more to me than a pointless publicity project or the wild doctor who rides a motorcycle.”

  Why would that matter to him? A disturbed expression came over his face. Had he intended to say that out loud?

  “Maybe, because you wanted us to go to a clinic and I was already coming here,” he was quick to add. “All I ask is that you respect these people.”

  “Of course I will.” What type of person did he think she was? Where had he gotten the impression she didn’t care about people?

  Silent minutes passed before Rex entered a neglected section of the city Tiffani had never visited. Many homes were abandoned and stores closed. Grass grew through the cracks and paper littered the gutters. Tiffani tried not to think about the fact that this was considered the highest drug and crime area of town, or the fact that it was frequently a main topic in the news. She should be feeling nervous but inexplicably Rex’s presence made her feel safe, confident he could handle himself as well as take care of her.

  A few blocks farther he pulled into what looked like an old grocery store parking lot. There were people mingling around the glass front. Paper covered the windows halfway up. On a cinder-block wall facing the parking lot were the words: High Water Clinic.

  Rex climbed out of the truck and walked around to open the door for her.

  Tiffani smiled gratefully and took his hand. It was strong and sure. She was too aware of his touch. There was no place in her life for that reaction. He was a client, and moreover she had no intention of being hurt again. “You really do have nice manners. Thank you.”

  “Let’s just say they were drilled into me.” He smiled, easing the words. “Come on. They’ll be waiting for us.”

  Tiffani couldn’t decide if his disclosure was positive or negative. But it made her think about something besides her growing fascination with him.

  He closed the door and remained close as they went t
o the front of the building, circling behind the people at the door, waiting to enter. Several of them spoke to Rex and he greeted them by name. Maybe he wasn’t the self-centered doctor she’d originally judged him to be.

  “The clinic generally doesn’t open until nine thirty on Saturdays but there’s almost always people lined up waiting before then,” he informed her with a note of pride as he again held the door for her.

  Inside was a large, dim room. Mismatched chairs lined the walls and a gray metal desk that had seen better days stood directly in front of the entrance. Behind it sat a heavy-set, middle-aged woman.

  “Louise, you’re looking ravishing this morning,” Rex teased.

  To Tiffani’s amazement the older woman blushed.

  “Don’t you start with me, you charmer, you. Our day’s going to be too busy for your nonsense.”

  “What’s up?” Rex was all business now.

  “We’re short a nurse and doctor today. Dr. Bruster and Ronda both couldn’t make it in today. Dr. Bishop is already seeing a patient and Amanda is assisting him.”

  Rex groaned. “I wasn’t scheduled for today. I just came to show Tiffani around.” He faced Tiffani with an apologetic expression. “I guess I need to get to work. I’m sorry about this.”

  He didn’t sound put out or discouraged, just willing to do what was necessary. There was nothing of the prima donna she had expected to see. He continued, “I’ll take you back to the hospital as soon as I can, but for now you’re going to see how an all-volunteer clinic works. Smooth and efficiently.” He chuckled, touching Tiffani’s arm briefly.

  Louise laughed. “Something like that.”

  There was nothing sexual about his touch but the awareness lingered long after he’d removed his hand. She was so distracted she didn’t immediately realize he was speaking.

  “Tiffani Romano, this is Louise Townsend, the glue that holds this place together.”

  “We both know that isn’t true,” Louise snorted. “Nice to meet you, Tiffani.” She looked at Rex. “Now stop gabbing and get busy.”

  “Tiffani, you can wait here or there’s a table in the back. Again, I’m sorry.”

  If she just sat around she wouldn’t have any material to use. She wanted to see him in action. “Can I watch what you do?”

  Rex’s brows went up as if her request had astonished him. “You’re sure you want to do that? You might be bored.”

  “More than I would be, waiting in the back room?” She gave him a direct look.

  “Okay, as long as the patients are okay with it.”

  Louise waved a paper at Rex. “Here’s your first patient.”

  Taking the paper, Rex gave it a once-over, opened the door to let people in and called, “Mrs. Guzman?”

  A silver-haired Hispanic woman struggled through the door, a piece of cloth wrapped around her leg. Rex hurried to helped her. “Come with me. We’ll see if we can get you fixed up.”

  Tiffani followed them to a hallway created by business office cubicles. Rex directed his patient to the first one on the right. After getting the okay from Mrs. Guzman, Tiffani followed them in. She wasn’t sure she hadn’t made a mistake by asking to watch Rex.

  She was really stepping out of her comfort zone. She could count the number of times she’d seen a doctor on one hand—she avoided them unless there was no other choice—so this clinic was a foreign land in more than one way. What she did know was that doctors didn’t know everything. She’d seen the devastation a wrong decision could make in a family’s life. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  Her plan had been to go to the clinic, take a few pictures of Rex tending to two or three patients, then leave. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d be in an exam room with him. At least she’d be getting a lot of material she could use. Maybe she could sneak a few pictures...

  * * *

  To Rex, Tiffani didn’t look happy with the situation but she hadn’t demanded to leave. For that she got positive points. At the clinic, she would get a close-up of his life as a physician. Guilt pricked him. He glanced behind him and spotted her standing in the far corner of the room. She really was a striking woman, but more than that she was intelligent, persuasive, most of the time too much, and today far too agreeable for his comfort. He might find he liked her more than he should if this continued.

  Tiffani returned a weak smile in response to his reassuring one. He just hoped she wouldn’t try to use the people here as part of her campaign. It had taken years for the clinic to build community trust. An overzealous PR person could mess that up. He should have gone to the clinic she’d planned on but he’d let his ego get the better of him.

  “Mrs. Guzman, have a seat right here.” He helped the woman to settle on the lone chair in the space they used as an exam room. “Tell me what the problem is.”

  “I burnt my leg.”

  “Let’s remove that bandage and see what damage you’ve done,” he said to Mrs. Guzman. “After I have a good look I’m going to need to make some notes.”

  “I can do that,” Tiffani said.

  Surprised, he almost forgot what he was about to say. “That would be helpful. Just write what I tell you. You can find a pad and pen in the top drawer of that box.” He pointed to the red metal tool box the clinic used as a supply cart.

  Tiffani nodded.

  He turned back to his patient and removed the cloth. He heard Tiffani’s slight intake of breath. It was an ugly burn. The skin was red and angry and a large blister had already developed. To Tiffani’s credit, the slight sound was her only reaction.

  “Mrs. Guzman, how did this happen?”

  “I was up early this morning, canning tomatoes. I moved the hot pot to the sink and hit the counter and spilt scalding water down my leg.” The woman shook her head. “I should have been more careful.”

  “Tiffani, please write down, ‘Mrs. Guzman, second-degree burn to right shin.’” He trusted her to do as he asked and continued with his patient. “I’ll need to clean this and then cover it in clean gauze. I’ll get the supplies and be right back with you.”

  “I can do that if it’ll help,” Tiffani offered. “Tell me where to find the supplies.”

  He hadn’t expected her to say that. “You sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Down the hall and around to the right you’ll find a sink and cabinets. The liquid soap and bottles of saline will be sitting on the counter. There’s a plastic tub under the sink you should bring too.”

  Tiffani stuffed the pad and pen into her back pocket and left.

  “Mrs. Guzman, now tell me how you’ve been besides your leg,” Rex said. Over the next few minutes he gave the woman a basic physical.

  Tiffani soon returned, carrying the soap and bottle in the tub.

  “Good. Put it all down here,” Rex said, indicating the floor next to Mrs. Guzman’s foot. No doubt soon Tiffani would be calling a cab so she could leave. Rex wouldn’t blame her. He hadn’t planned on her getting roped into being his nurse. “Now, Mrs. Guzman, just put your foot in here.” He indicated the plastic pan. “I’m going to clean your leg.” He patted her hand and she gave him a drawn smile. “Tiffani, please write on your notes, ‘Cleaned with soap and saline.’”

  She nodded then slipped out the door. Had she had enough?

  He took plastic gloves out of the supply box and pulled them on then took out a small pile of four-by-four gauze pads. “Now, Mrs. Guzman, I’m going to pour the saline over your leg.” Rex talked as he worked. Seconds later he was lightly applying soap with the pads, being careful not to damage the blisters. Done, he said, “We’ll let that dry then I can I cover it.”

  “I could do that,” Tiffani said from behind him.

  She’d returned so quietly he hadn’t realized she was there. He looked at her, trying to conceal his disbelief. “You sure?”

&n
bsp; “Trust me, I’ve got it. I’ve had a lot of experience.”

  He could use the time to see more patients. “All right. Is that okay with you, Mrs. Guzman?” When the woman nodded, Rex stood, telling Tiffani, “The supplies are in the box. Third drawer down.”

  “Your next patient is waiting next door.” Tiffani pointed as she moved toward the box.

  She was full of surprises. She’d gone to get another patient while he worked? He admired her efficiency and forethought.

  “Mrs. Guzman, I want you to keep this clean and wrapped until you come back next week and see the doctor. Tiffani will give you a couple of rolls of gauze to use. Can you do that for me?” He smiled at the woman.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” He patted her shoulder. “Clean and dry is the ticket.”

  Again, the woman nodded. He left, with Tiffani chatting with Mrs. Guzman as she gathered the supplies she would need.

  None of this scenario would he have ever imagined. Where had she learned to bandage to give her such absolute confidence she could handle Mrs. Guzman’s injury? Rex was impressed. He couldn’t think of another woman he knew who was outside the medical field but still would have stepped in to help.

  His next patient was a two-year-old child whose mother looked fearful.

  Rex went down on his heels and said to the mother, “Can you tell me what has been going on with Johnny?”

  “He’s crying a lot, pulling on his ears. Wants me to hold him all the time.”

  “Have him sit on the table and you hold him. I’m going to take a look in his ears.”

  Rex turned to his small patient, who now sat on the portable exam table. He hated the clinic’s inexpensive furniture, but that wasn’t the important thing. There was solid care here. He found the otoscope in the supply cart.

  “Johnny, I need to look in your ears,” Rex said, touching the boy’s shoulder gently. After studying the ear’s interior, he said quietly, “Now the other one.” When done, he informed the mother, “He has an ear infection. He’ll need an antibiotic. I can give you a few samples but you’ll need to go to the pharmacy for more. Will you be able to do that?”