Page 57 of Remembering Passion

The offer was inviting. “I should go home and keep working on learning more about the pharma coalition. I’ve spent every minute of the last week with Rosemary and you. I’ve let the preliminary research of my new position slide.”

Niles looked up from his phone. “Jeremy is completely on board. He’s making quesadillas. We could change wine to margaritas.” His smile was bright.

“You definitely know how to tempt a girl.” I shook my head. “Tell Jeremy thanks for the invite. I need to face the fact that this is a job. Me going to Sinclair is about Beta Kappa Phi, not some imaginary rekindling of a relationship with Damien.”

“Maybe he has a good reason why he hasn’t contacted you.”

“It’s the hunt. He wanted me to take this job. I did it. Now, he’s won, and he doesn’t need to prove anything else.”

“Won at what?” Niles asked. “You’re moving from this office to a fancy location downtown. Your salary is increasing. You will be eligible for variable payouts. Honey, you won.”

Swallowing, I nodded. “You’re right.” I looked around the room. Many of my books and files were already packed into boxes. The bookcase was empty except for the things I was leaving for Rosemary. “Promotion.”

“Damn right.”

“Millie said if this program meets its goals, I could hire additional people to help me.”

Niles’s lips twitched. “Are you offering me a position?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea of the pay or anything, but if it’s feasible, yes, I’d love to work with you in the future.”

“We can cross that bridge…”

“Okay, just don’t forget about me.”

“Never.”

When I arrived home, there was a delivery on my front porch with the familiar smile on the side of the box. I read the address, fully expecting it to have been placed at the wrong door. The tag had my name and address. Taking the box inside, I spoke aloud to Duchess. “I don’t remember ordering anything.” I smiled at her. “Did you?”

Inside was an automatic cat feeder, having the ability to program exactly how much food to dispense and when. “You did order this,” I said.

Duchess was less than impressed as I put the feeder back in the box. “I’ll return it tomorrow.” She rubbed her forehead against my hand.

A few hours later, the names of the CEOs as well as their signature drugs were settling into a fog within my tired mind. Taking a drink of wine, I peered around my living room and took a final look at the notebook beside my laptop. It was filled with notes I’d jotted down. Tomorrow, I’d make them into something more legible. I was contemplating going upstairs when the doorbell rang. Looking down, I assessed I could at least see who was outside. It was nearly nine at night and my work clothes were replaced by soft pants and an oversized shirt. I wasn’t exactly ready for guests, but whomever would arrive at this hour didn’t deserve the polished version.

My bare feet padded over the cool tile as I made my way to the front door. Flipping the switch to illuminate my front porch, I first noticed the red hair of my visitor. Shaking my head, I unlocked and opened the door. “Johnathon, what are you doing here?” Near his feet was a large suitcase on 360 rollers. “Why do you have a suitcase?”

“Mr. Sinclair wanted you to have this for your trip.”

Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “What trip?”

“Your trip tomorrow to Ashland. You’re meeting with the CEOs from the coalition.”

With a shake of my head, I open the door wider. “Come in.” As he passed the threshold, wheeling the large suitcase, I placed my fists at my waist. “I wasn’t told of a trip. I need to be at the office in the morning. The last I heard, the movers were scheduled.”

“Yes, they’ll be there by eight. Your new office should be ready when you return.”

Waving my hands, the anger inside me began to boil. “You can take whatever is in the suitcase away.” I had a thought. “Did Mr. Sinclair send a cat feeder?”

“Oh,” Johnathon replied, relieved. “I’m so glad it arrived in time. Yes, since you’ll be gone all weekend.”

“I haven’t spoken to Mr. Sinclair since Tuesday. No one told me about the trip.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Crystal—”

“Ella.”

“Ella,” he corrected. “Mr. Sinclair was unexpectedly called out of town. He should be back in time to fly with you to Ashland. If he isn’t, he said he’d meet you there.”

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