Page 7 of Midnight & Memories

Poppy smiled at him before striding toward the entrance to the café. She grabbed pastrami on rye, a bag of regular potato chips, and a Diet Coke and headed back to her office. She was settling in when her boss knocked on her door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I just want to thank you for coming to the meeting today. You had some great ideas for Ridge, and I couldn’t have done the meeting without you.”

Poppy’s eyes flick from her laptop to meet Parker’s gaze.

“Um? You’re welcome?”

“Poppy, don’t act so surprised! You are good at work, and I wouldn’t have hired you otherwise. I’m just—well, call me crazy, but I just wanted to give you some props for a job well done today. My ex-wife has always told me I need to learn to appreciate people better, so I’m trying here.”

Poppy’s brows narrowed.

“Okay? Thanks—I guess? You aren’t usually one to hand out praise unless you need something, so forgive me for sounding skeptical. It almost sounds like you are buttering me up so you can get me to do more work for you, and on top of what I need to do for Mr. Turner before six. If you’ve forgotten the time, I only have six hours to prep for the business dinner.”

“Well, perhaps I am. I have another client that could use your expertise. Care to work on both? I promise to give you a raise if you do. I can’t offer you a title. But I can ask corporate for another couple of hundred a month for you.” He said as he walked behind her desk.

“Parker, it sounds nice and all, but how about I get a handle on Turner’s project first, and then we can talk about whatever you want later in the week?”

“That sounds fair. I can give you a few days to think about it. So, how far have you come with the Turner project?” He asked as his hand grazed her shoulder. Parker tipped his head towards the screen of her computer.

He was inches from her, and her stomach flip-flopped and not in a good way. She heard the rumors that flew around the office. Parker Smith was a class-A man-whore; apparently, she was the next potential prey for this snake. No wonder his wife left him for her lawyer! Gross!

“I haven’t gotten very far, considering I just left your office about 20 minutes ago, boss.” She said as she slid her body away from him.

“Ah! Yeah, that’s true. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Carry on!” He patted her shoulder again and hurried out of the room.

What the fuck was that all about? And why do I feel like I need a shower to get Parker’s stench off of me?

Poppy shook her head and wiggled her shoulders to get the creepy feeling Parker left on her body. Now was not the time to vomit. This project needed her undivided attention. She was halfway through creating an auction site account and cataloging the initial pieces by three in the afternoon. Already, she acquired a few art pieces from her best friend and slightly famous artist, Savanah Sully. She also had left a message with Ciro, who promptly texted her back that he’d have some Super Bowl passes for her by tomorrow morning. His baby was due in early January, and he wasn’t risking leaving his wife alone to deliver their baby. Poppy smiled at the sweet gesture.

If only a man thought so highly of me, he’d be willing to give up watching the Super Bowl live!

But who was she kidding? That wouldn’t happen. Not for Poppy.

She sighed as she posted the art pieces on the website. Poppy wasn’t sure if Ridge would appreciate the modern art pieces, but it was the best she could do on such short notice. She also emailed her old college pals, turned CEOs, and asked them each for a donation to Ridge’s Alzheimer’s cause. It was easy talking to them because the formalities didn’t have to be there with the initial contact.

Daryl Davis was the CEO of a high-end men’s clothing line. He always had extra tickets for many pop and country music concerts. In fact, one year, he took her to a Brad Paisley concert just to use the boxed seats that year.

Stephan Sanders owned one of the best sports magazines in the country, Pro Flair, and he had extra seats for any New York games, especially football. He was always inviting her to one game or another, but Poppy kept telling him she was holding out for a hockey game. They eventually made one a couple of years back. Their schedules never seemed to mesh these days unless it was the entire gang getting together.

Carl Connors was a bigwig in the fashion design industry and loved the theatre. Most in the fashion world loved the theatre and opera. Carl had just moved to New York from California a couple of months back, and Poppy was so excited to have him back in her life. He was one of her besties, but it was always hard to go clubbing with him because he dressed better than her. Not that Carl didn’t give her wardrobe and makeup tips when they knew each other, but Poppy was always too self-conscious. She wasn’t well-versed in glamming herself up. Poppy thought she was trying too hard when she put on too much makeup. Both hadn’t had the chance to reconnect now that he was here in New York just yet, but she figured he’d be just as receptive as the others to donate a night’s worth of tickets to Ridge Turner’s cause. And Poppy was grateful when he responded in kind.

Ridge was a well-established businessman who always had reporters following his every move. At times—at least while Poppy was standing in line at the grocery store, Ridge appeared to get more press than the royal family.

Poppy rubbed the back of her neck, which was now piercing with an ache. She glanced up at the right corner of her computer; it was already 6:30 in the evening.

Shit! Now I have no time to go home to change!

She dashed over to her closet inside her office. She perused the couple of dresses and shoes she stashed in there for emergency business meetings. It wasn’t often that she ever had to wear them. She could count on one hand how often her boss had her come with him to an important dinner. Still, now that she needed to change, she was glad her boss had suggested keeping a few items on hand for such emergencies.

It took her less than five minutes to change. She was fitting her feet into some beaded pumps when her phone pinged. By the ringtone, she knew it was a text.

I’m downstairs. I get I said to meet me at the restaurant, but I figured you might still be at the office, and I thought I’d surprise you and pick you up instead.

Poppy smiled at the thoughtful text and replied to Ridge.

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