Page 13 of Dr. Bad Boy

“I was a complete professional while talking to Ms. Black. I’m just saying, you could give me a little gossip now.”

“I will never, ever give you gossip. But I will give you a generous Christmas bonus, so tell me the rest of my messages and then the weekend can begin.”

“That’s it.”

I frown. “That’s not very many.”

He beams proudly. “There were five other calls, but I dealt with them all.” He gives me a quick run-down, but he’s right—I approve of how he handled each of them.

“Great work, Blair.”

“And your monthly insurance billings report is on your desk.”

I bite back a sigh. Nobody tells you how much paperwork is involved with saving people’s lives. “I’ll look it over. You can head out now. See you Monday.”

I settle behind my desk and reach for the phone. The parent phone calls won’t wait. Everything else can go home with me, including getting back to Eliza.

Like me, Eliza is a survivor of the Hollywood churn.

Unlike me, she stayed in L.A. after our long-running sitcom came to an end. She used to be Lizzie Black, then. Deliverer of killer punch-lines and winning smiles.

Now she’s a bonafide A-list star of award-winning films. And mostly due to her persistence, she’s a friend.

One of the few and the brave.

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen.BJ.That’s code for Gavin, my only other serious friend.

As in Gavin Strong, the nation’s new prime minister. My platonic better half since our first year of university, where I saved his ass in chemistry and he saved mine everywhere else.

Even our now-required-because-he’s-powerful secret identities speak to our relationship. He’s BJ and I’m Hawkeye. M*A*S*H re-runs got us through a lot of late night cramming sessions.

But I’m not his other half any more. He’s got Ellie, his fiancée, and they don’t need me hanging on.

So even if I didn’t have dinner plans, I’d probably duck out on whatever offer he’s about to make.

I hit the green button and lift the phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ellie and I were wondering if you wanted to come by for dinner tonight.”

“I’ve got plans, actually.”

“You’re lying. You’re lonely and miserable and need us to save you from yourself.” He’s teasing, but there’s a thread of history in his words.

I laugh, because I don’t wallow. “Often the case. Not tonight.” Just last week I’d lied to Gavin about there being a woman on my mind. Violet had been my secret for three months. I wasn’t ready to tell him everything, but I’d found her. She wasn’t a figment of my imagination. “I have…a date.”

Now I’m lying.

There’s no way a scheduled meeting at my lawyer’s office counts as a date, even if I am picking up takeout on the way, and once I close the door behind me, we’re going to have a get-real conversation about all the things I’ve thought about doing to her for the last three months.

“When did you meet someone?”

The night you kicked me out of your house so you could bang your internis probably not the right answer. “I’ve visited this city a dozen times in the last two years. I know people.”

“That’s a non-answer.”

“Says the politician.”

“So that’s a no to dinner?”

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