The V-Spot. Wendy S. Marcus

man introduced himself as Neil. Emma stayed with him, which suited her just fine since she had no desire to have any interaction with Brody the Birthday Ruiner.

      Fortunately for Neil, unfortunately for Emma, the ambulance arrived much faster than she’d anticipated. She gave her report to the EMTs, found her purse and hoped to slip away unnoticed.

      But it seemed remnants of bad-luck bomb particulate lingered on her person.

      Just outside the door, Nick snuck up beside her, linking his arm through hers and falling into step as she walked. “Soooo. Not a real physician or a real fiancé, after all.”

      “I told you tonight’s a role-play date,” Emma lied, deciding to continue the charade rather than own up to her misinformation. “Tonight he’s the doctor and I’m his nurse.” She extricated herself from Nick’s grip and, as politely as she could, pushed him away.

      She noticed Brody over by the privacy fence at the center of a swarm of his adoring fans. Of which she was not one—even if he was nauseatingly attractive and great with the kids on her floor.

      “But you really are a nurse,” Nick pointed out.

      “Well, yes.” She headed for the parking lot. “My role wasn’t much of a stretch.”

      Nick followed her. “You know you’re still welcome to hang with me and Sugar. Brody, too.” He may have looked the part of laid-back man issuing a casual invitation, but his voice came out way too eager.

      Would this night never end? “Thank you so much for the very tempting offer. But I really have to be going. Emergency at home,” she lied. “I’m not sure how Brody plans to spend the rest of his night. Maybe he’d be interested.” Based on all she’d read about him in online news articles, probably he’d be interested, especially once he got a look at Sugar.

      “Hot diggity!” Nick said and veered off, probably to hunt down Sugar and give her the news.

      The darn gravel hindered Emma’s hasty departure. Sadie had suggested she wear comfortable shoes. But chubby girls needed to elongate for optimum presentation, so she’d chosen a nice pair of three-inch wedge-heeled sandals for the evening. They were comfortable, usually, but, as it turned out, not ideal for travel over gravel.

      “It was nice meeting you,” she yelled after Nick. Then she maneuvered the rest of the way to her SUV without looking back.