"You got what you were after. A good story." Pushing her aside, he picked up his jeans and angrily thrust his legs into them.
"Will you stop with the righteous indignation and listen?"
He flung his hand toward the incriminating recorder.
"I've heard enough. Did you get everything? All the juicy details of my personal life? I'm surprised you've tarried this long. I'd've thought you'd jog back to Dallas if necessary just so you could start assembling all the good material you've got on me."
He buttoned the fly of his jeans and yanked his shirt off the floor. "Oh, no, wait. You wanted to get fucked first.
After Joe what's-his-name turned out to be a dud, your ego needed reinforcing."
The insult smarted and she reacted to it by striking back. "Who came to whose room? I didn't track you down.
You came here, remember?"
He cursed when he couldn't find but one sock. He shoved his foot into his boot without it.
"Nor is it my fault that you're a good story," she shouted.
"I don't want to be a story. I never did."
"Too bad, Doc. You are. You simply are. Once notori ous, you're now a hero. You saved lives last night. Do you think that'll go unnoticed? Those kids and their parents are going to talk about 'Doc.' So are the other hostages.
Any reporter worth his paycheck is going to be clamoring for the lowdown. Even your friend Montez won't be able to shield you from the publicity. You would've made news no matter what. But since 'Doc' is the reclusive Dr.
Bradley Stanwick, you're big news. Huge news."
He gestured toward the recorder again. "But you've got them all beat, don't you? Is there another recorder under the bed? Were you hoping to get titillating pillow talk?"
"Go to hell."
"I wouldn't put anything past you."
"I was doing my job."
"And here I thought I was speaking confidentially. But you're going to use it, aren't you? The stuff I thought I was confiding to you?"
"You're damn right I am!"
His jaw flexed with rage. He glared at her for several seconds, then marched toward the door. Tiel barged after him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him around. "It could be the best thing that ever happened to you."
He yanked his arm free of her grasp. "I fail to see that."
"It could force you to face up to the fact that you were wrong to run away. Last… last night," she said, stuttering in her haste to make her point before he stormed out.
"You told Ronnie that he couldn't run away from his problems.
That running from them was no solution. But isn't that exactly what you did?
"You moved out here and buried your head in this West Texas sand, refusing to accept what you know to be true.
That you're a gifted healer. That you could make a difference.
That you were making a difference. For patients and families facing a death sentence, you were granting reprieves.
God knows what you could do in the future.
"But because of your pride, and anger, and disillusionment with your colleagues, you abandoned it. You threw out the baby with the bat