DANIEL'S GIRL: ROMANCING AN OLDER MAN by Katherine Cachitorie, Mallory Monroe Page A

me.   He feels I take too many risks, and jump on
too many crusades, and I just worry him too much, I think.   And. . .
    “And what, girl?”
    “And I’m always questioning him about
those females that love to hang around him.”
    “Hell yeah you question him!” Val said
without hesitation.   “You’d better
question him.”
    “But he doesn’t like it.   He thinks that means I’m still maturing, as
he puts it, and that I don’t trust him enough.”
    “When it comes to sensual matters, I
wouldn’t trust him either.   He’s too good
looking. I’m sorry, but that man is too gorgeous.   And the way he used to put it on you too?”
    “Put it on me?”   Nikki said with a laugh.   “What are you talking about?”
    “You know what I’m talking about.   I used to live with your ass, don’t forget
that.   Whenever you went out on a date
with that man and he would bring you home, you could barely walk.   And your eyes would be all glassy, like that
man took you to outer space somewhere. ”
    Nikki laughed again.  
    “He’s got honey in that equipment,”
Val continued saying.   “And when there’s
honey, the females are gonna swarm.   They
can smell it.   So I don’t care what he
doesn’t like.   You’d better keep
questioning him.”
    Nikki smiled sadly.   “Maybe the only man for me is you.   Maybe in our old age we can move in together
and keep cats.”
    “I have a better idea.   Maybe you can ease up on the crusades and
figure out a way to marry that rich, handsome Daniel Crane.   And maybe I can find the love of my life
too.   Now that’s what I want in my old
age.   I don’t want no damn cats!”
    Nikki laughed just as her cell phone
began ringing.   “You’re a mess,” she said
to laughter from Val.   “Hello,” she said
into her phone.
    “Is this Miss Graham?”
    “Yes, it is.   May I ask who’s calling?”
    “Hello, Miss Graham.   I’m Ida Lundford.   Mr. Poindexter’s secretary.”
    Nikki’s heart dropped.   Herbert Poindexter, the publisher of the
Gazette, never requested to see a reporter unless that reporter had done
something grand, like win a Pulitzer.   Or
something horrific.
    “Are you there, Miss Graham?”
    “Yes, yes, I’m here.   I’m sorry.   When does Mr. Poindexter need to see me?”
    The secretary hesitated as if she
could not believe Nikki would ask such a question.   “At once,” she said, and hung up the phone.

 
    Daniel Crane stepped off the elevator
on the top floor of the Dreeson Corporate headquarters building and made his way
to his suite of offices.   As soon as he
entered his suite and greeted his secretary after a weeklong absence, and spoke
to his extensive staff in the offices that surrounded his own, he made his
retreat.   His plan was to check his
numerous messages, pick up some necessary paperwork, and then head home.   But he wasn’t in his office five minutes
before Phillip Grayson, the Public Relations Director and a young man very much
in the know, was walking through his door.
    “Make it quick, Phillip,” Daniel said
as he stood behind his desk shoving papers into his briefcase.   “I’m on my way out.   I wasn’t planning on coming by here at all.”
    “Well welcome back, Daniel.   I was lost without you.”
    Daniel chuckled and the two men
exchanged a warm glance.   Although their
relationship was a wary one, they still held each other in some regard.   But it was usually Phillip, the blond-haired,
blue-eyed twenty-something with dreams of rapid advancement, who often forced
the contact.   If left up to Daniel they
would rarely speak.
    “I just wanted to make sure you knew,”
Phillip said.
    “Knew what?” Daniel asked, his
attention completely on the papers he needed to take with him.   “That you’re lost without me?”
    “I wanted to make sure you knew what
happened with Nikki.”
    Daniel stopped shoving papers and
looked at the PR man.   “What happened
with Nikki?”
    “Well,