She didn’t have another session for an hour, so she locked her door. She never locked her door. But then, she was about to do something she rarely did. She was going to Google a patient. She’d made it a point not to search out her patients online—what mattered was what they shared in her time with them. Still, Clark Davidson had left her feeling unsettled, no matter how hard she tried to apply logic to the situation. She flipped open her laptop, and plugged his name into Google.

She found a Clark Davidson who was a realtor. A Clark Davidson who was a sales manager at an advertising technology company. And a Clark Davidson who was a lawyer. But none were market researchers. And none of the images that returned matched the man who’d been in her office.

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]

to: [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.