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I take a deep breath, and we spend more time going over her coursework, and she asks a few questions about the gallery.
“Did you always know you wanted your own gallery, or did you want to go into preservation or curation?” she asks.
No one ever asks questions like that. My admiration for Poppy rises a little more every time she speaks, and her personality paired with her beauty is a lethal combination.
“I always knew I wanted a gallery. There’s a certain satisfaction in curating as well, and I did some of that early in my career, but owning a place like this, being able to offer a personal touch to both the artist and my clients… that’s a thrill. And you can’t get more intimate, in terms of art curation, than providing a space like this and getting to experience the art up close, getting to know the artists and help bring their visions to life.”
Why the hell am I talking so much? This is her interview, not mine.
She nods. “That’s kind of what I was thinking, too.”
“So, you want your own gallery someday?”
She shrugs. “Right now, I think I’d be very happy as a curator. But who knows? Maybe that will change eventually.”
I nod. It’s a reminder of how young she is, despite her confidence and feistiness. I had no idea what the hell I wanted at twenty.
I glance up at her, and she’s looking at me, her dark eyes seeming to see far too much.
For a spell, I wonder how much she knows about my history. If she’s as intelligent as she seems, then surely she would’ve done some research on her new boss? But how far back, and deep, would her curiosity have taken her?
I’m inclined to think that if she knew about Danneel or Micah, I would’ve seen pity in her eyes. So, it’s best that she doesn’t know anything beyond what she needs to. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I swam myself back up into life after my wife’s death, and I don’t plan on loving a woman again. Besides, Poppy’s only here for two months. What am I even having such thoughts? She’s just an intern, and I’m just her boss.
Remember that, Stone. Keep it professional, and you won’t have any problems.
Chapter Four
Poppy
I know three things now.
Number one: I am going to love it here. Nathaniel seems like he’s actually prepared to teach me more about art curation and gallery management than I’d hoped. He doesn’t expect me just to be a gopher, and I’m so grateful for that.
Number two: he’s going to be a demanding boss. I can tell from hearing him talk that he expects a lot from his staff, and he seems like a bit of a perfectionist. I’m not worried about this too much. It’ll keep me at the top of my game. But since my goal is to impress him so much that he writes a letter of recommendation when the time comes for me to get a job, I’ll need to keep this in mind.
And number three: I have never wanted to ride a man so badly in my entire life. Just sitting here talking to him is like some kind of magical aphrodisiac, like getting shot with Cupid’s arrow, and like a touch of insanity all rolled into one. His voice has continued to be deep, rich, and smooth, but when he’s talking about something he’s really interested in, like the Dutch masters, which seems to be his own little private area of interest, his voice takes on this energy that’s practically contagious.
He looks at me with those hazel eyes of his, and it feels like he can see straight through me. I know I’m staring at him, but I can’t seem to stop. His eyes go from almost green to almost gold with his moods and as the light in the room changes. Someone should paint him, catching the different moods of his eyes. They should probably sculpt him, too, because the more I look at him, the surer I am that that would be an absolutely stunning work of art.
I need to stop these wild thoughts.
This man is at least fifteen years older than me. He’s rich as sin. He’s my dad's boss, for crying out loud, and for the next two months, he’s my boss, too. My future depends, at least a little bit, on earning his respect.
I glance at his hands, which are currently shuffling through my paperwork. No wedding ring. Good.
Oh, my God. Enough, Poppy!
I can’t get all lust stupid over this man. I can’t be distracted. Even if he weren’t my dad’s boss, which would add another level of weirdness to anything happening between us, I need Nathaniel Stone to respect me enough, to trust me enough, to let me learn as much about his business as possible. He won’t respect or trust me if it’s clear that I want to jump him. I’m not here to open my legs, even though I know a few women who made that particular method work to their advantage. I’m still a virgin too for goodness’ sake. I’m here to learn from him and hopefully earn his professional respect. I can’t mess this up.
I take a breath and answer a couple more questions. I’m just grateful at this point that he’s hit the refresh button on today. Not exactly a great first impression; telling him off and telling him he’s rude. Even if he did deserve it.
“All right. I think
we’re good here,” he says, standing, and it’s clear that I’m being dismissed. “I’ll see you at ten tomorrow morning, then.”
I stand as well and reach out to shake his hand. “Yes. I’m looking forward to it. Thank you so much for this opportunity.” There. That sounded almost professional.
He nods and releases my hand, and I pick up my bag and turn to leave.
