Page 62 of Victorious Vice

I shake my head. “I’m keeping my alcohol consumption to a minimum. Although I have to admit those prickly pear margaritas look amazing.”

“I’m not much for sweet drinks,” he says, “but since it was the specialty cocktail of the evening, I tried it. It’s actually on the tart side. Quite delicious. Are you sure you can’t try at least one? Doctor’s orders?”

I sigh. “You know? I will try one. Thank you.”

He leads me to one of the bars where the line is only two deep at this point. Once we get to the bar, the bartender smiles at me. “Ms. Bellamy, what is your pleasure?”

I open my mouth, but Dr. Michaels speaks first.

“A prickly pear margarita for the lady, please. And I’ll have a Macallan, neat.”

“Of course, sir.”

I’m a little taken aback. I don’t particularly like men speaking for me. Dr. Michaels is probably trying to impress me.

The bartender prepares my margarita and hands it to me. I take a tiny sip.

Dr. Michaels is right. It is tart. A good tart, with just a touch of sweetness, and then of course the smokiness of the tequila.

“Delicious,” I say.

“Thank you,” the bartender says as he slides Dr. Michaels his glass of scotch.

“Obliged.” Dr. Michaels hands the bartender a fifty-dollar bill.

The gala has an open bar. Tips aren’t exactly discouraged, but they’re not required. The foundation will be tipping the bar staff at the end of the night based on the final totals.

But Dr. Michaels is trying to impress me again.

I wish it were working.

“And thankyouvery much, sir.” the bartender says with bright eyes.

Dr. Michaels looks back at me with a cheeky smile. Yeah. The fifty-dollar tip was a flex.

Then again, Dr. Michaels is a successful oncologist. Perhaps he’s a legitimately generous man, wanting to pay it forward to someone who likely makes a tenth of what he does.

But I’m not buying it. Maybe it’s because my gut is right about Dr. Michaels, or maybe I’m just comparing him to the version of Vinnie I thought existed until a few weeks ago.

He leads me to one of the bar tables and sets our drinks down. He takes a seat.

I’m not comfortable spending any more time with him when I have an entire gala of people I need to talk to.

I pop down in the seat across from him and paste a smile on. “Thank you so much for the dance and for the drink, Dr. Michaels. If you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle.”

“Oh?” He lays his hand over mine. “I was hoping we could spend more time together.”

“You can call my office anytime.” I slide my hand out from under his and stand.

“Better than that.” He gets to his feet. “How about dinner next weekend?”

Way to be put on the spot. I grab my handbag and fidget with it to give me a second to come up with some sort of gentle rejection.

But then I reconsider. Vinnie has moved on. Why the hell shouldn’t I?

“Sure.” I give Dr. Michaels another smile. “That sounds lovely. Give me a call and we’ll set it up.”

“Wonderful. There’s a new Spanish-Asian fusion restaurant I’ve been dying to try.”

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