Page 258 of The Doctors Will See You Now

But as soon as she turned around and surveyed me, it was a different story. I was up to her standards, possibly even exceeded them, and she made her interest more than a little visible by plumping up her lips and thrusting her chest forward to garner attention.

“Hi,” I greeted, leaning in to the shell of her ear to tackle a multisensory approach. She shivered as the air from my hot mouth made contact with her clammy, post-dance-exertion skin.

“Hi,” she purred back, kicking her hips slowly back and forth to the building beat of the club remix of “Believer” by Imagine Dragons.

I held out a hand in an offer to shake, but she rejected polite pretense, grabbing it and placing it on her swaying hip. I smiled. This might be even easier than I thought.

“I’m Scott.”

She smiled and pushed her body into mine, forcing me to move to the same sexy beat. “Pamela.”

“Hi, Pamela.”

“Hi, Scott.”

Internally, I laughed. It was really fucking sad how ridiculous these conversations actually were.

“You look familiar,” she said. A twinge of discomfort flared in my stomach before I tamped it down. I wasn’t sure if being known as Dr. Erotic of reality show stardom would be a good thing or a bad thing as far as getting a meeting with the mayor was concerned.

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, unwilling to offer up any unnecessary information. “Been to the hospital lately?”

“That’s it!” she chirped, snapping her fingers right in my face. Here we go. “You’re that doctor that Harlow Paige wrote the article about.”

Okay. There were at least two things in that statement that weren’t at all what I was expecting.

Article? I was thinking TV show.

And who the hell was Harlow Paige?

“Huh?” I asked eloquently. Really, I was doing a stellar job executing my plan so far.

“Harlow Paige at Gossip. She just wrote an article about you. Dr. Erotic, right?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, not recognizing one word about the article, but I was completely familiar with the nickname.

“Did she say nice things?” I asked teasingly, trying to bring the conversation back around to something that would get me somewhere. Pam shook her head with a smile.

“Not really. Apparently, you’re a great flirt but terrible with commitment.”

Fuck. This was going somewhere, all right, but not at all where I wanted. Though, this article sounds pretty fucking accurate.

I racked my brain for the answer, for what I could say to change her mind about whatever she was convinced I was like, so I’d have enough time to win her over, to make her an ally, to—

“So, you want to get out of here?”

Wait…what?

I laughed to myself and nodded before I could think twice about it. “Yeah, Pam. Yeah, I do.”

God bless women wanting things that are bad for them.

What? I told you I always start out with the best of intentions.

But I was a single guy, and Pam was an attractive, willing woman who seemed pretty well informed on the score. Whoever this Harlow Paige was had given Pam the speech for me.

Who said a little work couldn’t lead to a lot of play?

I never thought I’d witness a woman feeding Fritos to a small hamster hiding inside of her purse in public, but I guess I’d severely underestimated the glorious people watching opportunities on the subway.