One Night with the Doctor Read Online Free Page A

strode onto the stage to a smattering of applause. She glanced over the crowd and froze. The man whose torrid kiss had never been far from her thoughts the past two weeks sat at a small table in the front row.
    Benedict saw the look of startled surprise in her green eyes before she looked away.
    “She’s happy to see you,” Tripp observed, then took a sip of beer. His lips twitched.
    Shock was closer to the word that had come to Benedict’s mind. Had he been mistaken about the desire he’d seen in her eyes two weeks ago as he’d left the party? Still, she didn’t look angry. That was some consolation. Though he now had to wonder if the gesture he’d made before leaving the office had been a smart move.
    Since it was too late to change anything now, Benedict took a pull from the bottle of Dos Equis and sat back, ready to enjoy the show.
    It took only a few notes for Benedict to realize that Poppy had a voice suited to this style of singing, warm with a bluesy richness. As the song continued he leaned forward, mesmerized.
    She drew out the final note and the crowd rose to their feet. Cheering filled the bar. Even as he clapped, Benedict turned to Tripp. “She’s as good as any professional.”
    “Poppy had the lead in several musicals when we were in school. She’s even better now.” Tripp shook his head. “I can’t imagine anyone topping that performance.”
    The words barely registered. Benedict’s entire focus remained on the stage. He gave Poppy a thumbs-up and she blushed.
    When Poppy bowed one last time, Benedict didn’t take his eyes off her. He’d been given a second chance to make an impression.
    This time he wouldn’t blow it.

Chapter Three
    A fter her performance, Poppy headed straight to the dressing room. She reached the small table with her name written on a strip of paper taped to the mirror and came to an abrupt halt. The makeup brushes littering the tabletop had been pushed aside. In their place sat a crystal vase holding a dozen long-stemmed burgundy roses.
    She brought a hand to her breast and glanced around. “Are—are these for me?”
    Although she’d spoken to no one in particular, Cassidy Kaye, owner of the Clippety Do-Dah salon, looked up from the supplies and brushes she’d been stuffing into an oversize purple bag.
    The silver sparkles in Cassidy’s atomic blue eyeshadow glittered in the artificial light. “And you told me you weren’t dating anyone.” Her shocking pink lips curved up in a smug tilt. “You had to know I’d find out.”
    Like a fine wine, some people got better with time. Others, well... Poppy sighed. The hairstylist was just as nosy as she’d been back in high school when she’d written the Loose Lips gossip column.
    Dressed in skintight purple pants and a bright emerald green sweater, Cass still marched to her own beat. Her blond hair, jagged to her shoulders, currently held a streak of fuchcia. Canary yellow glasses were tipped up at the corners and studded with rhinestones.
    Even when she’d been small, Cassidy had exhibited a bold, eclectic and totally unpredictable fashion sense. In kindergarten, she’d regularly worn a Halloween catsuit to school in lieu of more traditional attire. In sixth grade she’d come to school with her hair buzzed, demanding they call her Sinead.
    Not everyone had been kind to her.
    Remembering, Poppy felt her irritation ebb. She reached out, rubbing a soft, fragrant petal between her fingers. How long had it been since anyone had sent her flowers? Years, she decided.
    She wished these beautiful blossoms were hers. But she’d learned long ago wishing didn’t change reality.
    “I bet these were simply placed on the wrong table.” Regret filled Poppy’s voice.
    “The flowers are yours.” Cassidy’s chin lifted. “I was here when they were delivered.”
    Poppy widened her eyes at the stylist’s defensive tone. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
    “See.” Cassidy plucked a card from the bouquet and shoved it under