Page 7 of Both Sides Now

“Better not be every woman,” Shawn grumbles, taking a large swallow from his glass.

“Is someone jealous?” Suzanne leans over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Seriously, Calli. You should go to him.”

“For his brain or his brawn?” I question, unable to hold back a smile when my friends fall into laughter again. Bunch of bastards. They’re lucky I love them.

“Both, I suppose, but be forewarned. He’s a ladies’ man. Total player. But one hell of a doctor.”

I slip the napkin into my purse, holding up my glass in a toast. “I’ve no interest in Dr. Keegan Russo unless he can make me a mother.”

“So she says now.” My friend clinks my glass, but I see yet another round of laughter on her lips.

“Seriously, Suzanne, how good looking can he be?”

Chapter

Two

KEEGAN

“Dr. Russo, your two o’clock is here. Oh, and Megan called. Again.”

I glance up from my computer, catching the exasperated look on Alice’s face. The woman has the patience of a saint—a good thing as my office manager—but there is no love lost between her and the woman she aptly dubbed the drama queen from hell. Megan earned that nickname after spending only five minutes with Alice.

Unfortunately, neither the nickname nor the mannerisms have changed.

“I’ll call Megan and tell her to stop harassing you.” I run a hand over my jaw, chuckling.

“Better yet, tell her to stop harassingyou.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’d better not do that,” Alice counters, her hand resting on the doorknob. “I’d like to keep my job.” With a wink, she walks away, closing the door behind her.

Alice is the big sister I never had, and even though I sign her paychecks, she’s had my number since day one.

She’s right about Megan, too. But there is something aboutMegan, of which Alice is unaware. No matter how vapid, shallow and tiresome the woman may be, she sucks a mean cock. She’s not half bad in the sack, either, when she isn’t three sheets to the wind on her prescription cocktail of choice.

She can’t function without those little pills, or so that’s her claim. Valium and martinis are Megan’s special diet, along with an ample serving of Botox injections. She thinks she looks fabulous. Personally, I find her frozen face a ghoulish mask of plastic perfection, never certain what emotion she’s feeling.

Although, knowing Megan, she isn’t experiencing any emotion of real depth. That’s not in her wheelhouse.

But she’s got a killer body, even if her implants are a bit on the ridiculous side.

Another fun fact about Megan? She’s easy and I don’t mean inthatway, although she likely wouldn’t say no to any man offering her a Prada bag.

The woman has the intellect of a flea. Whether it’s genuine or some goofy act, I can’t tell. But there are no intellectual conversations with Megan. She has zero expectations. I buy her the occasional gift and pick up the tab at any number of eating establishments, and she’s good to go. Happy to be seen on my arm and not clamoring on about the triple threat—rings, marriage, and babies.

My work may specialize in creating happy parents, but I specialize in avoiding that box. That tightly sealed, constrictive, miserable box some folks term domestic bliss.

Megan knows this fact, and she has yet to argue with me on any of my points. My non-negotiable points.

So, that is why Megan is still around. We fill a need in each other, and the L word is never mentioned.

Shallow? Perhaps, but it works and I have yet to meet any woman to change my mind.

Dialing Megan’s number, I kick back in the chair, propping my feet on the corner of my desk. I have a few minutes. Mytwo o’clock appointment is early, and if Megan makes any more unwarranted phone calls to my office, she will be on the receiving end of Alice’s wrath. I’ve been there a few times. It’s a storm I’d rather not weather again.

“Baby, finally.” I swear, I can hear her hyaluronic-acid infused lips jutting out in a pout. “Where have you been?”

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