Playing Doctor

Chapter Seventeen

You are the one in control. The more power you take away from your subject, the more successful you are.

He'll be putty in your hands.

-Strip Style: A Guide for Aspiring Exotic Dancers

Throwing caution to the wind, I kept my phone in my pocket the next day at work. I figured I could handle Walter's protests, but I didn't want to miss Gray's call.

However, he didn't call. Not that I was worried-I'd learned that he said what he meant. So I came home directly, took a shower, and put on one of my new bra and panties under my clothes. Curling up on the couch with Strip Style, I waited.

The phone rang, and I grabbed it eagerly. "I've been waiting-"

"Daphne," Kevin's proper voice cut in. "We need to talk."

First I was disappointed it wasn't Gray. Then I winced because I hadn't done anything about the research yet and I had less than two weeks till the conference. Finally, I got angry. "I told you I don't want to talk to you."

"Do you remember that little boy who died last year from complications due to his diabetes? Jeremy?"

"Joshua," I corrected.

"There's another Joshua out there you're condemning because of your stubbornness to give me the data."

Direct hit. My heart contracted with guilt. I remembered Joshua's bright eyes and how brave he'd been despite his sickness. "That was low even for you, Kevin."

The shrug in his voice was loud and clear. "I'm just trying to get you to see the gravity of the situation."

"You're just trying to get me to give you my data. Your dirty tactics aren't going to work." Snapping the phone shut, I sat there numbly.

I'd lied-his tactics did work. Now I felt responsible for some nameless child out there who looked just like Josh. I reopened the phone, searched for the directory for Bradford Singleton, and hit call.

He answered on the first ring. "Dr. Singleton."

"Bradford, it's Daphne Donovan. I need your help," I said simply. Bradford did research at Stanford as well, and we'd always had an amiable relationship. Plus, he didn't like Kevin. If anyone would help me it was him.

"Tell me what I can do," he said without pause.

My tension eased. "You might have heard that I've left Stanford."

"I'd heard rumors to that effect. Kevin's a stupid man," he said baldly. "Stanford's going to feel your loss."

"Thank you."

"But you didn't call for pleasantries."

"No, I called because I need someone to present my findings."

"Is this on the research you did working under Kevin?"

"Yes."

"I thought Kevin was presenting it at the Ferguson Symposium."

"I haven't turned it over to him," I replied.

"I see."

The hint of humor in his voice told me he understood, and I relaxed with a sigh. "Then you'll help me. I was thinking maybe you could include my findings in your presentation. I can help you tie it to your own research. I'd let you take the credit, of course."

"Daphne, I'd love to help you but I can't."

I blinked. "But you said-"

"I said I realize why you haven't turned it over to him. I've heard the rumors about him and that young lady who works for him. But as much as I'd like to stick it to him too, I can't. Kevin has the ear of the Powers That Be. One word to them and he could have me out on my ass." He sighed. "I really wish I could help you too. The bastard could use a public humiliation like this."