Grrrrr. Sometimes Amanda can be a total pain.

Dr. Drake’s eyes flicker over to Amanda’s face. His lips part. A smile creases his perfect face. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

I introduce them between IV sucks. Amanda inhales. Her br**sts rise. Her chin dips. She looks up at Dr. Drake through long, golden lashes and holds out her hand, waggling her fingers like little worms on a fishing hook. She is really laying it on thick. No one would ever suspect she is a crackerjack attorney at one of San Francisco’s biggest law firms, and she likes to play it that way.

Dr. Drake presses his lips to her wrist. “How nice to meet one of Mac’s girlfriends.” He emphasizes the word “girl,” making it seem as if I am inundated by men at work.

“Yes, we’re very close.” Amanda squeezes up beside me and puts her hand on my arm. I glance over at her and frown. Did I just miss something?

“Well, now I have two lovely ladies to dance with.” Dr. Drake turns his gaze back to me and holds out both his hands.

“What’s happening?” I whisper as I dutifully follow Amanda to the dance floor. “I told you he’s all yours.”

“Either he likes you a lot. Or he’s into threesomes. Or both.” She hits the dance floor and immediately begins to gyrate. Dr. Drake joins her, grooving to the hip-hop beat with some smooth moves of his own.

“Threesomes?” My alcohol-soaked brain cannot keep up and my voice rises in pitch. “You, me, and…Doctor Drake? Together? In bed? You picked that up after talking to him for five seconds?”

“I also picked up that he’s into kinky sex. Watch.” Amanda twists her scarf around her wrists, binding them together, then raises them over her head and shakes her br**sts. Dr. Drake licks his lips. My stomach clenches. I. Am. Going. To. Hurl.

“So, are you interested?” she asks.

“In him or the threesome?” I force my feet to move in time to the beat. Dr. Drake gives me an encouraging nod. Good thing I’m not wearing a scarf.

“Either.”

“Are you crazy?” I hiss in her ear. “He’s my boss. You’re my best friend. And my most exciting sexual experience to date was the kiss from Max. I don’t think my heart could take it.”

Dr. Drake grabs me and spins me around, pulling me against his lean body with a surprisingly muscular arm. He thrusts his pelvis forward and back, taking me with him. Forward and back. Forward and back. Our pelvises rock in time to the music. A giant picture of us flashes on the screen above the stage with a cartoon caption that reads, “Dirty Doctor Dancing.” Bravo for new technology and instantaneous humiliation. My stomach clenches, and I try to pull away, but Dr. Drake smiles at the camera and presses his hand against my belly and my ass into his crotch.

And I thought Bianco Nero was a bad experience.

After twenty minutes Amanda and I escape to the restroom to freshen up while Dr. Drake loiters outside, chatting with his doctor friends about his scintillating performance.

“I think he likes you.” Amanda reapplies her lipstick for the hundredth time in two hours.

“Who?”

“Max. I’ll bet you two shots of Unidentified Specimen he texts you tonight.”

I ease myself up on the vanity counter made up to look like a hospital bed. “What if he’s not interested in date four? What if he went home and thought to himself, ‘Thank God that’s over. I think I’ll call up one of my poised, beautiful, movie star girlfriends who wouldn’t know a carb if it hit her in the face’?”

“Then you get two free shots of Unidentified Specimen, and I’ll return a slightly used Doctor Drake.”

“How am I going to face Doctor Drake at work?” I bury my face in my hands. “They keep playing that video of us dirty dancing over and over again. It gets worse every time. Why didn’t you stop me?”

Amanda shrugs. “You were having fun. Sometimes you have to stop worrying about things and just enjoy the moment.”

“He was certainly enjoying it,” I mutter. “I’m going to have a bruise on my lower back from his enjoyment.”

Thankfully, Dr. Drake has disappeared when we emerge from the restroom. We make our way back to the table and collapse into the booth. I search for a waitress to top off my IV, and my eyes are drawn to a disturbance at the door. The manager pushes his way through the crowd, and a minute later Max emerges, flanked by two men dressed in black.

My mouth goes dry. “Oh. My. God. Max is here.”

Amanda follows the direction of my gaze and her eyes widen. “Did you tell him where you were?”

“I didn’t even know he was back, and my phone is dead.”

His eyes focus on me like laser beams. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Instinct screams for me to run, run, run. I wish my face would unfreeze so I could look anything other than horrified.

Max stalks toward our table, eating up the tiles with determined strides of his long legs.

I lean toward Amanda. “I think he’s angry.”

Amanda snorts a laugh. “I’d say that’s an understatement. He’s furious. It means he cares.”

“I’d like it better if he showered me with flowers.”

Max reaches our table and the two men in black loiter at a discrete distance. He folds his arms and glares down at me. His blue, button-down shirt and black dress pants are slightly wrinkled and his hair is mussed—as if he had just stepped off a plane. Uh-oh.