“He’s leaving,” Chet says. “Dr. O’Rourke here is not a member of Aces, nor is he here as a member’s guest.”
Doctor?
Of course, that doesn’t necessarily imply a medical license. He could have a doctorate in any number of disciplines.
But if he is a doctor?
I can’t wait for my next checkup.
“Doctor?” I ask. “Do you work at a hospital nearby?”
His eyes flicker. “I do. St. Charles, not too far from here, actually.”
There it is. He’s a medical doctor. A healer.
A healer who hasn’t taken his eyes off my boobs since I shook his hand.
“Do you have a first name?” I ask. “Or should we keep things professional?”
He grins. “Harrison. Harrison O’Rourke.”
Harrison O’Rourke.
What a name.
It rolls off the tongue in an almost musical way, but it’s got a certain masculinity to it as well. It must be the R’s, and the hard K sound at the end.
Suffice it to say I’m leaning in.
“Pleasure to meet you, Harrison.”
He kisses my hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Bianca.”
Chet cuts between us. “Yes, and it is just luscious to see a new friendship blossoming. But you’ll have to take it outside. Although, Miss Bianca”—he checks his watch, which hangs off his skinny wrist—“you’ll have to keep it brief. Your first curtain is in ten minutes.”
Harrison cocks his head. “Your first curtain?”
I gesture to the door that leads to the mirrored staircase. “I’m the singer here.”
Harrison shoots his eyebrows up. “I thought you looked familiar. You have a lovely voice.”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks. “Thank you. It’s a living, I suppose.”
“I have great respect for singers,” Harrison continues. “I love to go to the theater when I can, catch a musical, sometimes even an opera. I have no idea how you guys do it.”
I shrug. “It’s all in the technique. Like going to the gym, only the muscles you’re honing are much smaller than the ones in your arms and shoulders.”
He chuckles at that. “You’re very kind.”
“If it’s a singer you’re looking for,” Chet interrupts, “you are welcome to scout Michigan Avenue for one, Dr. O’Rourke. But I really must insist that you leave now.”
And I feel it.
The little twitch over my left eyebrow.
Normally it warns me that something terrible is about to happen.
But this time… I think it’s trying to tell me something.
