Page 69 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

"You deserve it. Remember I'm going to see my folks for two weeks starting tomorrow, so I'll want a full report when I get back." She started to walk out the door, then stopped and turned. "Oh, you're off on that Wild Women in Medicine cruise, right? You be careful, that's a pirate ship, for sure!" And she winked.

What had I missed? "Pirate ship?" I asked.

Allison grinned. "You know what pirates are always after, right?" She laughed as she walked out the door.

Gold? Treasure? I shrugged, then stared at the number Allison had given me.

Derek Harrington, re: MRI suite priorities.

His office, she'd said. Call soon.

I picked up the desk phone, set it down, picked it up again.

I dialed.

It rang once.

"Derek," he answered.

Not a receptionist, not an assistant. His voice.

My mind went briefly, completely blank.

"This is Dr. Bonds." I heard myself and winced. As though he might not know. "Sorry. Allison said this was your office line."

"It is." A beat. "My office is wherever I am."

Of course it was.

I pulled the legal pad toward me, the one with my notes from the presentation, something to look at. "I wanted to set up the meeting you requested. To go over the priorities for the suite. I have the full cost breakdown and the clinical case files if you want to go through them properly."

"I do." Papers shifted on his end, or fabric. "You don't work evenings?"

The question caught me off guard. "Not usually. Residency cured me of the rest of it. Why?"

"Weekdays are better for me than weekends. Jessica. And I'd rather do this at my place than the hospital. Easier to think without the audience." A pause. "Dinner, then. Bring the data and your arguments. I'll feed you food that isn't a boardroom sandwich." The next pause might have been amusement. "Dress however you want. I'll probably be in sweats."

I looked at my legal pad. The words cardiac MRI suite stared back, suddenly a little irrelevant.

"Okay," I said. "Dinner. What night works?"

"Next Monday. Eight. A little late, but Jessica will be asleep by then. That work?"

A week. "That works."

"Good. I'll send a car."

I started to say he didn't have my address and stopped. Of course he had it. Allison would have sent everything over.

"Right. Monday at eight."

And then he was gone, the line clicked quiet before I'd finished deciding whether the sweats thing was a joke.

I set the phone down.

It hadn't gone anywhere, the window I kept forgetting to close.

Derek Harrington, I thought, gathering my bag. Please, anyone but him, I pleaded with my pussy, which suddenly thought it was an independent country. Throb, it replied.