She dropped Shayla’s name into Google next, but very little turned up about her that Michelle didn’t already know. Where she went to college. Her brief time working at an art gallery. Some of her charitable donations. She moved onto Facebook next, even though she didn’t have a Facebook profile for herself, and had never felt any need to. Dropping Shayla’s name into the search bar on the social site made her feel dirty. She felt even seedier when she spotted the icon for photos on Shayla’s profile. But they were set to private.
Michelle closed the browser, disgusted with herself, and grateful that she’d been stopped from going too far. The tabloids were already invading her personal life; she didn’t need to start doing that to a client. It would simply be wrong.
Perhaps Clark was just a troubled man who needed help. Not someone who’d studied up on her more than she would have liked. She hopped over to her work email, and smiled broadly when she read a note from her Paris contact, Julien, about how much they were looking forward to her talk.
She was excited for the trip too. The only problem was she’d miss Jack terribly during those five days she’d be away. Especially after she took her phone from the desk drawer and clicked open a new note from him.
from: [email protected]
date: Sept 22, 11:47 AM
subject: You
Hi. You might have seen the picture of us dancing at Lincoln Center. We’re online again on Page Six. I know this is probably more than you bargained for the night we met. I guess I’m just used to it now. The press has been fascinated with my dating, or non-dating, as the case was until I met you. I suspect it will all blow over soon, and they’ll move on to someone else in this city. I hope you don’t mind, though, when I say that I can’t stop looking at this picture of you in my arms. It captured that moment so perfectly and everything I see when I look at you—you are so beautiful and in this photo you look simply incandescent. I am going to miss you when I go to California later this week.
She closed her eyes and let that gorgeous word wash over her. Incandescent. Who said things like that? Who used that kind of an adjective? Only a man like Jack. A man who loved the symphony, and who loved her ass. A man who was refined on the outside, and filthy on the inside. Her lips curved up in a naughty grin as she lingered on her dirty, sexy, sophisticated man. When she opened her eyes, she searched out the photo of the two of them, quickly reading the caption. Sob, sob. Looks like things are getting serious with the sex toy mogul and the shrink. They were spotted dancing outside Lincoln Center Saturday night. They look so happy together we want to cry. Don’t tell us you’re off the market, Jack!
She beamed in spite of being in the public eye once more. She beamed because Jack was right. She did look incandescent. Because she was looking at him. She didn’t see what everyone else saw. She didn’t see a sex toy mogul and a shrink. She saw a man and a woman, dancing, gazing, holding.
That’s what she saw.
Surely, that’s all anyone could see.
* * *
But her good mood from Jack’s letter didn’t last. Because there was a knock on her door later that afternoon, and Kana popped in.
“Hey. How’s it going?” Michelle asked.
“Great. May I sit down?”
She gestured to the couch. “Lie down and tell me about your mother,” she joked, and Kana laughed, but the laughter quickly faded.
“So, you’re seeing that guy you sent to me?”
“Whoa,” Michelle said, holding up her hands. “Does everyone read Page Six?”
Kana crinkled her brow. “Um. Yeah. I love that site. I’m addicted, like half of Manhattan,” she said, brushing her black hair away from her face. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure he was never your patient. You said he was a friend the day you referred him to me.”
She shook her head. “He was never my client.”
“Good. Because you’re one of the best, and I just want to make sure you weren’t leaving yourself open to an ethics investigation.”
“No. God, no. I swear,” she said, and dropped her head in her hands in frustration. Then she lifted her head and met Kana’s gaze straight on. Her colleague was simply concerned, that was all. And Michelle owed her the facts, given that Kana was involved, in a way, now. “I met him the night before. I didn’t know he was scheduled to see me. We hit it off and as soon as we both realized he had an appointment, I marched him down to see you. I haven’t crossed any professional lines.”
“Good. I’m just looking out for you. Besides, I wouldn’t want to have to report you,” Kana said in a deadpan voice. But when Michelle stared at her without cracking a smile, Kana quickly added, “I’m kidding. I’m totally kidding,” then laughed to emphasize her point.
But Michelle didn’t reciprocate. Even though she knew she was 100 percent above board on that count, the notion that someone else might question her ethics sickened her.
* * *
She arrived early to the consulting group that afternoon, and snagged some one-on-one time with Carla, updating her on Shayla’s session, then Clark Davidson, then the photo from Lincoln Center.
Carla listened, and was quick to answer. “I don’t think we need to freak out, but this is a good reminder to be careful.”
She hadn’t expected that. She’d assumed Carla would reassure her. “What do you mean?”