“Good morning,” she said as she got onto the bus. “Who’s excited for today?” It broke the ice. Five men, two women. “Since we’re all staying at the same hotel, let’s introduce ourselves,” she said. “I take it everyone’s a doctor?”
There was one drug rep. She crossed him off her mental list. There was an APRN （off the list as well）。 The two women would be of no use, which left three men, one who looked to be about seventy, the other who had a wedding ring on his left hand. Still, he was a contender, and quite handsome to boot. But the last man, though not as good-looking, had salt-and-pepper hair and a gleam of interest in his eye. “Dennis Finch,” he said, shaking her hand. His grip was firm; his hands were soft.
“Melissa Spencer,” she said. “I hope everyone is planning to enjoy the city while we’re here. We can’t just sit in seminars all day, not in New Orleans, right?” Thus followed restaurant recommendations, the best place for beignets （some kind of donut） and nonmedical chatter that Melissa could handle and guide with ease.
When they got to the convention center, the driver opened the bus door. Dennis lingered, offering his hand to Melissa as she got out. “I can’t believe you’re wearing those shoes for a conference,” he said, gazing at her legs. “The orthopedic surgeon in me says not to.”
“What does the man in you say?” she said, lifting an eyebrow.
“He says thanks,” Dennis answered with a chuckle.
They went to the entrance, where someone was scanning badges. “Shoot,” she said, pretending to look through her purse. “I can’t believe it, but I left mine at the Roosevelt.”
The guy let her through.
“You don’t look old enough to be a doctor,” Dennis said.
“I actually just passed the MCATs, Dennis,” she said, having done her research, “and I gave myself a couple years off before starting med school. I did a little physical therapy before this.” She didn’t want him to think she was too young, after all. “I know I want to be an orthopedic surgeon, though. I thought it might be wise to get the lay of the land from this perspective, rather than when I’m an exhausted and overcaffeinated resident.”
“Smart woman. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight,” she lied, adding five years to her age. Young enough but old enough. “Where do you live and practice, Dennis?”
“New York. I’m at NYU Langone, but I’m also a partner in a private surgical center.”
“I’ve been reading about those. Cutting through the red tape and all that.”
“Exactly. Where did you go to undergrad, Melissa?”
“Wesleyan,” she said. She’d learned to drop Kansas from the name.
“Ah, Connecticut. The gentlest state.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she said, though she wasn’t exactly sure where Connecticut was. Up north somewhere. New England? She did know, however, that Wesleyan was almost an Ivy League school, so all the better. “Tell me about your experience, Dennis. Are you where you hoped you’d be professionally? Has NYU been good to you?”
“Absolutely, but I’ll give you some advice. Invent something if you’re an orthopedic surgeon. Get a patent on a new device. That’s where the real money is.”
“Really? Well, for now, I just want to help people get out of pain. Oh, gosh, that sounds so smarmy! Forgive me!” She gave a self-deprecating laugh, brought her well-manicured hand to her lips.
“Not at all! Shall we walk around together?” Dennis offered.
She accepted. He asked if she was free for dinner that night. She was. Eight o’clock? Perfect. She parted ways with him midday when he was about to go into a conference about the latest developments in hip replacements.
“There’s a seminar I’m dying to see,” she said. “But I’ll meet you in the lobby at quarter till?”
“Sounds perfect.”
She leaned in and pressed her cheek against his, hoping he’d smell her Chanel perfume—she’d talked the lady at Nordstrom into giving her a tiny sample. “I’m looking forward to it.” Then she pulled back. “Oh, gosh. You’re not married, are you?”
He held up his empty left hand. “Divorced this past year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Well . . .” She paused and laughed. “Well, I’m actually pretty happy to hear it. Enjoy the rest of your day! See you tonight.” Then she walked away, feeling his eyes on her yoga-perfect ass.