Angel leaned her head against the seat rest and closed her eyes. “I saw the letters, signed by her, when I was talking to Duke’s father.” She opened her eyes again and frowned at Kinley. “Who, by the way, was not very nice.”

“Willis? Tell me about it. When Mark was killed last year, it wasn’t just Regina who left Duke. Willis treated his son like the shooting was his fault.” The beautiful TV star sighed heavily and shook her head. “Duke’s had a hard time coming back from not only an injury and loss but the rejection of his friends and family. Roland hasn’t been much help, either, that selfish idiot.”

They didn’t talk much for the remaining few blocks. A heavy gloom sat between them. Kinley handed her a business card as Angel was getting out of the car, apologized again, and told her to call if she ever wanted to talk.

Angel thanked the woman and said good-bye, but by then her mind was a million miles away. Well, really, a hundred feet away, in the office of Dr. Collins. She grimaced, facing the clinic.

Dr. Collins sat down with Angel in his office. His gelled hair was now a startling shade of black. With the black turtleneck sweater, white overcoat, and sallow skin, he resembled a mortician from a B movie.

“We need to reschedule your exit conference. I’m sorry I put it off.” He flipped open a desk calendar. “Wouldn’t want you to fail the practicum, would we?”

“No, that’s true. I’m free today. Right now.” It was Wednesday. She only had a few more days to turn in her practicum paperwork to her program director at the school.

“Hmm. Well. You’re not really free, are you?”

Angel had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Darlin’. No need to play it off. Not with me, remember? I was there when you agreed to fake date the Duke.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” She shifted in her chair. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not trapped into anything.”

“I’m not worried. You’re a big girl. A smart girl.” He rubbed at a smudge on his desk. “I’d recommend staying away from that ballplayer, though. He’s not very trustworthy, is he?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do. He has an outstanding bill at the clinic. And he didn’t mind taking advantage of you in front of the press, did he, darlin’? Then there’s the tape with the model, which must be pretty embarrassing for you, since the press thinks you’re his girlfriend.”

“I should probably get back to work…” Angel wanted desperately to get away from the doctor and the way he drew out every syllable in every word—and the way he inserted himself into her business.