Page 263 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“I’m certain you do.”

“All right.” He chuckled, completely at ease. He obviously wasn’t too upset about the call either. “Even though this conversation will no doubt end up in another one of your columns, I’m intrigued. How can I enlighten you?”

“It appears that you had a very busy and interesting evening last night,” I stated and silence filled the line. There’s no way he forgot about the four women, right? “At Club Indigo…” I hinted, and he finally cured himself of amnesia.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I was at Club Indigo last night enjoying drinks with a few friends.”

Jesus. How often did this man find himself surrounded by models? Was it, like, an every night thing? Or like an every Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday thing? How did it work with this guy?

“A few friends?” I questioned, but I couldn’t hide the sarcasm from my voice. “I’m sure you mean a few women.”

“Well, I know this might come as a surprise, but I do have friends that just so happen to be women,” he retorted, and I couldn’t stop myself from smirking at his response.

He was good. Too fucking good.

“And the mystery woman you left with? Who is she?”

“Mystery woman?” he avoided.

“Yeah,” I answered. “The brunette in the killer heels that you left Club Indigo with last night.”

“Hmm…” he started and then paused for a brief second. “I left with a brunette in killer heels? You know, that sounds like something I’d enjoy, but for some reason, I don’t remember it.”

I shook my head and tossed my pen on top of the photos I’d printed out for closer inspection.

“You know what’s crazy, Dr. Shepard?”

“What?” he asked, amusement lengthening the sound of his A.

“That I’m sitting here, looking at a photo of you holding hands with the brunette as the two of you leave Club Indigo.”

“Really?” he questioned, but his voice lacked any kind of concern. “That is crazy.”

“Oh, c’mon, just tell me the truth,” I coerced, turning my voice slightly seductive in the hopes that playing his game would pad my score. He chuckled softly.

“She’s just a very nice woman I met that night.”

“And the two of you left together?”

“We did.”

“And did your other friends meet up with you guys later?”

“Nope.” The pop of his p was almost smug, the bastard. He wasn’t giving me anything juicy, and he knew it.

“What’s her name?” I asked. This time his laughter was rougher, uninhibited.

“I’m not telling you that, Miss Paige. And not because I have anything to hide, but because it’s not fair to my female companion with the killer pumps.”

“Female companion?” I questioned, doing a little something a judge might call leading the witness. My boss would just call it good investigating. “So, the two of you are an item?”

“No. We’re not an item. Just friends.”

“Just friends that leave clubs together at midnight?”

“Yep,” he answered, and I could hear the cocky smile in his voice. “That sounds like us.”

I couldn’t exactly fault him for not giving me the woman’s name. I mean, I was obviously calling him for an inside scoop, and it wasn’t fair if he gave me a name of someone who didn’t want her name in the media. I definitely respected that.