Playing Doctor

Chapter Three

Exotic dancing is not just taking your clothes off while shaking your ass-ets. It's an art. To be successful, you must have a passion. But having a hottie to dance for can be powerful motivation too.

-Strip Style: A Guide for Aspiring Exotic Dancers

I was out investigating job opportunities with the retail shops in Mena's neighborhood when my cell phone rang.

Kevin. What a surprise.

If I didn't know better, I would have believed his persistence meant he wanted to apologize for what he did. Or that he'd reconsidered and realized what an ignoramus he'd been by choosing Jenny over me.

But I did know better, and I knew why he was calling: work. He'd keep calling until he reached me, and it was better to get this over with before the conference, so I stepped into the doorway of a closed business and flipped open the phone. "Hello, Kevin."

"Daphne?" He sounded like he couldn't believe I'd picked up but he recovered quickly. "How are you?"

Melancholy. Lonely. Aimless. "Excellent. And you?"

"Not that great, actually. I've been trying to reach you for a couple weeks now."

"I've been busy," I lied.

"I wanted to know when you were coming back to work."

See? With Kevin, it was always about the research. I should have realized that when he convinced me to leave pediatrics to join his team. I suspected he proposed to me only to keep me at Stanford instead of joining the private practice that was wooing me last year. "I don't know. Why?"

"As you know, the Ferguson Symposium for Juvenile Diseases is in several weeks-"

"Four to be exact." We were presenting my groundbreaking research on juvenile diabetes together since I was the lead researcher and he was the director in charge of the project.

"Yes, well, the lecture notes and presenter bios were due, and since I didn't know if you were ever coming back to work, I had to make an executive decision."

"What sort of executive decision?" I asked suspiciously.

He took a deep breath. "Jenny will be presenting the research with me instead."

My intestines cramped. "But Jenny is a temp. All she ever did was fetch you lattes and pick up your laundry. Oh, and orally gratify you on my desk."

He ignored my sarcasm. "I promoted her."

"To research?"

"Well, I did try to call you."

"Are you insinuating that this is my fault?" I scowled at a passing woman who gawked at me.

"Daphne-"

"Next thing you'll tell me is that you added her name to the paper."

His pause was telling.

"You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"Daphne-"

"You did." I pressed my hand to my stomach, willing myself not to throw up. "She did nothing to contribute to the research but she gets the accolades that are my due. All because she wore revealing tops and had a talented tongue?"

He adopted his chilly professorial tone. "I realize not being sexual you can't understand the allure of such things-"

"I'm sexual." Even I heard the lack of conviction in my voice.