No, at least try and get her number.

“You're friends with Leslie Thompkins?” You call out knowing this isn't the prudent thing to do, but if this mysterious beauty gets into the elevator you will probably never see her again.

The leggy impostor stops in front of the elevator and turns. “Yes,” she answers in a leveled voice, “we are” and then waits.

Slowly you start to walk towards her. “Leslie is a real saint. Her clinic in Gotham does a lot of good.”

“I know and so do you.” She answers with an inquisitive tone. “A few years ago while you were working at Leslie's place you saved a dear friend of mine, Holly Robinson.”

“I remember her. She got beat up pretty bad. Tough kid, but with a big heart. How is she doing?”

“Well, thanks to you.”

“Good to hear.” You now stand right in front of your former would-be date.

“Shouldn't you be getting ready for Mary?” She asks.

“Yeah . . . um . . . about that,” you grope for words not sure what you're doing let alone trying to say, “look I have to honor my commitment to Dr. Rorbeck and Miss Novak, but I kind of feel bad that you . . . I guess what I'm trying to say . . . maybe I could take you out to dinner sometime?”

“Hmm,” The gorgeous Gothamite calmly notes, “I know I've done you wrong, and if you wish, I will make it up to you, especially since it's your birthday.”

She then presses the elevator button. “However, I play second fiddle to no one. I'll be in the cafe across the street for just one hour.”

Dumbstruck you wait with Miss Kyle for the elevator door to open. When it does she gracefully enters and gives you one last look. As the doors begin to close the voluptuous vixen declares, “Your choice, Dr. Anderson, you have an hour.”