“Dr. Patricks?”

Steve looked up from the file he’d been perusing to see his secretary, her head poked through the door. Long, wheat-blond hair, clear blue eyes. He could never understand why she’d never taken up modeling.

“Yes, Heather?” He closed the manila folder and placed it in the drawer with all the others. “How can I help you?”

She stepped fully inside. Black businesswoman’s suit, half-skirt revealing shapely legs and stylish black pumps. Her hair was worn in a ponytail, hanging over one shoulder. She pushed the door closed behind her.

“Well, it’s nothing really, doctor. I was just thinking,” she paused and bit her lip. “I was invited to this business dinner tomorrow night, and, well, you know what happened with Brian and I.”

Steve did. He wasn’t her psychiatrist (that would be unprofessional), but he knew the situation.

“Well, I don’t have anybody to go with, now. And I was wondering, um..well, would you like to go with me, Dr. Patricks?”

He smiled at her. “Of course, I need to get out anyway.”