Redeeming The Rebel Doc. Susan Carlisle

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.

       CHAPTER TWO

      WHERE IS HE? Tiffani asked herself more than once as she paced in front of the men’s store in downtown Memphis. She had texted Rex the address and the time earlier that morning. He’d sent a terse response.

      I’ll be there when I can.

      She hadn’t heard another word from him since and his scheduled appointment time with her hairdresser was growing ever closer. Moreover, her father was expecting her later this afternoon. He’d worry if she was late. Rex needed to hurry.

      It wouldn’t have surprised her, though, if Rex was keeping her waiting on purpose. Wasn’t that what doctors did? Made people wait? It proved what she thought about them must be true—little worry for how they affected others—and so Rex not being courteous enough to tell her he’d be late shouldn’t have astonished her.

      Fuming over her assumption that he’d show up at the time she’d told him, her hopes rose at the roar of a motorcycle. Was that him?

      He’d made it clear he didn’t like any of her ideas, but she wasn’t sure he understood the big picture. He kept insisting he wanted nothing to do with the effort to improve the hospital’s reputation. Then he’d flat out balked at her insistence he needed a makeover.