But because Dakota really valued Loretta’s friendship, she leaned in and said, “You let me know if there’s ever any pressure to cut back on these lunch dates.”

“Oh, Dakota.”

Loretta was corporate to the core but as easy to read as a diary with a paper lock.

Dakota’s phone buzzed again, but she ignored it.

“Succumb to Me has officially been accepted. Not that there was any question.”

Dakota broke off an edge of a cracker. “I never assume.”

“Are you kidding? Your fans are clamoring for the end of this series.”

They were. The question was what was next?

“Mumford would like to see you extend the series.”

Dakota released a sigh. She knew this was coming. Desi, her agent, had told her as much in an earlier conversation.

The waiter arrived with the wine, poured them both a glass. “To Succumb,” she toasted. “May it be as successful as the others.”

Loretta tilted her glass back, drained half of it. “About the next book.”

“This series is finished. Mathew and Cassidy are solid . . . a baby on the way.” God knew they screwed enough in the books to warrant another generation.

“Your fans . . .”

“Half would be happy it continued, the other half ticked that I’m squeezing another book out of the series.”

“You know we’ll work with you and Desi to make it worth your time.”

Dakota lifted a hand. “Stop. OK . . . I get it. Sex is the new vampire and you want more. It would be almost impossible for me to write outside of erotic right now . . . but I want to work on new people. New characters. Who knows . . . they could be even bigger than Mathew and Cassidy.”

When her phone buzzed again, she took the diversion and pulled her phone from her purse.

Facebook had lit up . . .

Mary . . . in all her blondeness stood beside a very sexy Dr. Walt Eddy with her banner poised behind them. The caption in the picture tagged Dakota and simply stated, Found a doctor in the house checking out our favorite author.

Her mind that took in everything went into overdrive. A single doctor . . . a volunteer . . . what makes him tick? Why is he single? He’s gotta be in his thirties. Mid or earlier . . . a little reserved but not the private practice type that lived for billing codes and top dollar.

“Earth to Dakota.”

Loretta waved a hand between them.

“Sorry.” She picked up her glass. “Where were we?”

Dr. Eddy became the where’s Waldo of the convention. Dakota followed the Twitter feed with the hashtag #sexydoctor and found several images snapped by convention attendees. Because Mary had linked her name to the picture, she had easy access to the gossip following the doctor at their conference.

Two steps into the bar and Dakota found herself surrounded by friends, colleagues, and faithful fans who she only saw at conventions. She allowed herself a good thirty minutes before she was to meet up with Dr. Eddy for the obligatory drink.

Unlike the night before, tonight people were three deep at the bar, and getting said drink might prove difficult. There were plenty of suit-wearing doctor types with their ties missing and their wedding bands stowed in a pocket.

Do they really think we can’t see the tan lines on their ring fingers?

Dr. Eddy didn’t have that tan . . . yet his skin tone told her he lived somewhere with plenty of sun. The I’m married and stepping out vibe just didn’t fill Walt’s aura. Not that she was a huge fan of the aura, but there was something to be said about the energy surrounding people.

“Did you hear about Jen Adkins?” her friend Cherry asked.

“A little something.” Dakota inched her way closer to the bar.

“She hosted a small party in her suite and damn near got kicked out of the hotel for making too much noise,” Cherry told her.

“Last night?”

“No . . . like an hour ago.”

“It’s early.” Who bitched about a party in the early evening?

“I know. That’s one for the books.”

Dakota squeezed between the fray and waved down the bartender as he sailed by. “Whiskey on the rocks.”

The only acknowledgment was a quick wave.

Mary slid up beside her, wine in hand. “There you are.”

“Hey. You’ve been busy today.”

“You saw that?”

“Did I see an overwhelming thread of a certain doctor . . . yeah, I saw.”

“Walt was such a good sport.” Mary turned and gave Cherry a quick hug.

“It’s Walt now?”

“That’s his name. He doesn’t really like being called Doctor. Said it reminded him of his dad.”

I knew it! His dad was a doctor. Walter Sr. perhaps?

“Miss?” the bartender handed her a drink and a bill. She signed, placed her room number, and moved away so another needy conventioneer could take her place.

“What was Walt really doing on the second floor?” Dakota tilted the glass to her lips, savored the warm flow down her throat. Nice.

“I found him staring at your banner.” Mary lifted two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

What woman didn’t like the thought of a man working hard to figure her out?

“Then random women stopped him, snapped pictures. You know how it is up there.”

“Some of those women are crazy,” Cherry added.

Dakota raised her glass toward Cherry’s. “With enough of these, you are, too.”