Boss Meets Her Match
Janet Lee Nye
She can't fall for a guy like him…With kick-ass-and-take-names flair, hardworking Lena Reyes has everything a successful woman could want. Well…almost. She's still single, which means her family is practically auditioning guys for Hispanic Bachelor. But none of these guys compare to her newest client: a sexy trust-fund artist who's making Lena crazy in every way possible.Born into wealth and privilege, Charles “Matt” Beaumont Matthews V is everything Lena isn't. So why does she find him so deliciously irresistible? Now their attraction is breaking all kinds of rules. Worse still, Lena's falling for Matt—hard. He's either the perfect mistake…or her perfect match.
She can’t fall for a guy like him...
With kick-ass-and-take-names flair, hardworking Lena Reyes has everything a successful woman could want. Well...almost. She’s still single, which means her family is practically auditioning guys for Hispanic Bachelor. But none of these guys compare to her newest client: a sexy trust-fund artist who’s making Lena crazy in every way possible.
Born into wealth and privilege, Charles “Matt” Beaumont Matthews V is everything Lena isn’t. So why does she find him so deliciously irresistible? Now their attraction is breaking all kinds of rules. Worse still, Lena’s falling for Matt—hard. He’s either the perfect mistake...or her perfect match.
“Why do you do that?” Lena asked.
“Do what?”
“Every time you get real with me, let me see behind the smart-ass persona, you have to ruin it by being all annoying.”
Matt shifted closer and ran a finger along her jawline. She jerked away. “Lena. Look at me.”
She reluctantly turned to look. He was too close. Too everything. Those eyes. How could such icy blue be so hot?
“This,” he said as he took her hand. “This feeling right here is why you put up with me.”
He traced his fingers lightly across her palm. The sensation bypassed her brain, going straight to the very core of her.
She started to say he was crazy. She started to tell him to get out. But his lips were on hers and her hands were in his hair and oh dear God the man could kiss. He pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss. She kissed him back, ignoring the alarms from some distant rational part of herself.
Right now, she cared about nothing except for how good this felt.
Dear Reader (#ulink_a242f5b1-c003-5ee3-b528-09cbf612ca73),
Welcome back to beautiful Charleston, SC! I was very excited to have the opportunity to tell Lena’s story. It was also fun to bring Lena and Sadie back together.
For Lena, family is everything. Even when they are driving her crazy. She’s dedicated her life to lifting her family out of poverty, but now that the dream has been realized, she is left wondering, “What next?”
“What” did not include the impossibly annoying and sexy artist Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth. Or Matt, as he prefers.
For Matt, family is a touchy subject. A troubled youth led to estrangement and very hard feelings. While he is working to repair the damage, he struggles to accept that to fully live the life he wants, he may have to walk away from his family.
Family, by blood or by choice, is a central theme in my writing. The contrast between Lena’s family, who had been poor in money but rich in love and support, and Matt’s wealthy family, to whom obedience to family tradition is more important than personal fulfillment, is rather stark.
It is somewhere between those two extremes that Lena and Matt will find their HEA.
I hope you enjoy their journey.
Janet
Boss Meets Her Match
Janet Lee Nye
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANET LEE NYE is a writer by day and a neonatal nurse by night. She loves a good pinot grigio and a well-placed “f-bomb.” She wants to be Helen Mirren when she grows up. She lives in Charleston, SC, with her fella and her felines and spends too much time on Twitter and not enough doing adult things like making doctor’s appointments and dusting.
My love, my strength, my wailing wall, the occasional boot in my rear, my partner in everything: Jason Zwiker. Love you, baby!
Contents
Cover (#u603f845e-51c2-5c0d-bb67-f5135d4bec00)
Back Cover Text (#u35dfe482-93c9-52d1-99cc-ba5a8716679e)
Introduction (#u3bb17d6b-72b9-5dbf-a46e-76d391462847)
Dear Reader (#ulink_0c5abc20-d7fa-5d97-80f9-18037da322a5)
Title Page (#u026ecf6d-bffc-5a2f-bd94-6e478bc14410)
About the Author (#u55a89026-686e-5ca9-9588-e672e5bbc07a)
Dedication (#ubd06251b-217e-54e1-8eca-340e6dce9bfa)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_e95334f3-66bf-51da-a20e-7da0fcf449ab)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_0487bec1-74cd-5c6b-8d07-c850837dcd4c)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_057432c1-8db3-565b-bd78-9543c69e591f)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f9348d29-9793-51b8-ad27-f35ed7f8ef81)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_0aa830a2-0ba6-565e-a4c2-59b91dedf04c)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_078be3d2-998a-5804-9505-c24dfcc4338c)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_fcf2fa43-6b89-55e1-9274-393aec1192f2)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_3467fc6b-0bb8-543e-87cd-a5bd3fde5840)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_e23aae49-87b3-5e37-b2bb-61c8aa397ed3)
THAT IS THE ugliest thing I have ever seen. Lena leaned forward and squinted at the tiny white sticker in the corner of the painting. Five thousand dollars? Tie a paintbrush to my cat’s tail and she’d do a better job. She shifted on the bench. The sounds of the party echoed loudly from the floor below. Sipping her wine, she wrinkled her nose. Cheap chardonnay.
She didn’t want to be here, which was why she was hiding out on the second floor of the City Gallery. She wanted to go home. Take her shoes off and put pajamas on. Drink some wine that didn’t taste like battery acid. She straightened with a sigh. Might as well get it over with. Dr. Eliot Rutledge, famed neurosurgeon, very old money Charleston—and her first of many clients—was waiting for her.
Footsteps on the hardwood floor caught her attention. A man ambled slowly around the corner, looking at the art exhibited on the walls. Lena cut a glance in his direction. He didn’t fit with the suit-and-cocktail-dress crowd downstairs. His beige linen pants were slightly wrinkled—and that shabby white dress shirt. No. Just no. His dark blond hair was long and tied in a ponytail with a length of leather. A neat beard covered his face. He leaned down, looked at a price tag and whistled. Lena smiled.
“Pretty pricey, huh?” he asked, sliding down on the bench beside her.
She looked directly at him. Damn. That is a fine-looking man. The hair and beard couldn’t hide his high cheekbones and eyes so blue they almost didn’t look real. White teeth appeared as he grinned at her. Her stomach went quivery under that bad boy grin. She looked away and sipped more wine. She didn’t do bad boys anymore.
He gestured at the painting in front of them. It was an abstract, not quite as dense as a Pollock but not as minimalist as Munch. Slashes of red and blue, smears of purple and yellow. “What do you think of this one?”
She shrugged. “Not my style, to be honest.”
“Ah, man. I saw you sitting up here instead of being downstairs with all the mingling and small talk and I thought to myself, now, there’s a woman who doesn’t go for polite society bullshit. Thought you were up here seriously contemplating the meaning of art.”
She tried her perfect one-eyebrow-arch-and-glare trick. “Did you, now?”
All that got her was another of those inappropriate thought-provoking grins. “Indeed I did.”
“I think it’s ugly,” she said, taking another drink. “I think my friend’s nine-year-old could do better.”
His laugh echoed off the narrow corridor. “But one of those people downstairs will buy it.”
“Probably.” She stood. “Excuse me, but I have to find someone.”
“Ah,” Eliot Rutledge said, as he walked around the corner. “You’ve met. Wonderful.”
Lena looked from Dr. Rutledge to the man smiling up at her from the bench. “No,” she said, ice cubes practically dropping from the word. “We have not met.”
“Lena, this is our artist.”
A hot spark of anger flared in her chest and spread to her cheeks. The man stood, still smiling, and held out a hand. “Matt. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lena.”
“Did you know who I was when you approached me?”
“Nope. Just a happy accident.”
She stared at him until the smile melted from his face. A long string of profanities pushed against her pressed lips. Breathe. Just breathe.
“Matt asked for a recommendation. Told him I wouldn’t have anyone else in the city watch after my portfolio.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically. She turned back to Matt. Gave him her iciest smile. “I’d be happy to discuss this with you. In my office. During business hours. Call my secretary and make an appointment.” She turned to Dr. Rutledge. “Eliot, it was good to see you.”
As she rounded the corner to the stairs, she heard Dr. Rutledge’s voice. “Did you make her angry? I’d recommend not doing that anymore.”
Smiling as she pushed through the doors out into the perfection that was Charleston in October, she nodded. That’s right. Don’t piss me off. Her condominium was a short walk away along Waterfront Park. She ambled past tourists and college kids. There was still light in the sky and it was a perfect sixty-five degrees. Maybe she’d go for a run. Or maybe she’d collapse on the couch, order some Vietnamese and binge-watch something. Her phone vibrated in her purse. She fished it out. Sadie. Her best friend. The woman she called sister. Her finger hovered over the screen. Completely tired of talking to people for the day, she was sorely tempted to dismiss the call.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Your mother is what’s up.”
Lena smiled. At least she wasn’t the only one being tortured by her mother. “What’s she done now?”
“We went to look at dresses. I swear to God, Lena. I’m going to get married in jeans and a T-shirt just to spite her. You should have seen the dresses she begged me to try on ‘just to see.’ I looked like Scarlett O’Hara’s cousin from the trailer park. A full veil. To the knees!”
“Sounds perfectly lovely. At least she’s off your case about getting married in a church.”
“For now,” Sadie replied grumpily. “What are you doing this weekend? I need a rational human being for dress shopping.”
Lena reached her condo door and leaned against it. She could hear her cat meowing indignantly from the other side. Supper was an hour late. “We can do that. But don’t invite my mother. I’m trying to stay off her radar right now.”
“Yeah, by throwing me at her.”
“You’re the blushing bride. Much more fun than the dried-up old maid.”
“Is she still on that?”
“She’s backed down a bit. I think my aunts are planning something. Every time I see one of them, I feel like I’m being interrogated. Look, I gotta go. I just got home and la gata has complaints.”
“Okay, grumpy. Bye.”
* * *
“KEEP YOUR FUR ON,” she said as she entered her condo and kicked her shoes off. Sass, the cat, did not keep her fur on. Winding her way around and between Lena’s ankles, she complained bitterly of the near-death experience of having supper one hour late.
An hour later, she’d been forgiven by Sass, her business suit had been replaced with pajamas and Bon Banh Mi had delivered dinner. Wallowing happily on the couch, she scooped salad into her face and resumed binge-watching Supernatural. Her phone buzzed and Sass smacked at it. “Sthop,” she said around a chunk of lettuce. Estrella Acosta. Shit. What now?
“Hola, Tia. Qué pasa?”
“Are you coming to church on Sunday?”
Okay. Getting straight to the point. That’s new. “I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Contestame, will you come to church on Sunday?”
Lena made a face at the phone. “I haven’t been to confession.”
“You don’t have to go to confession to go to church, Miss Smarty Pants.”
“Which mass?”
That was important because no way she was getting up at four in the morning on a Sunday to drive an hour for a sunrise mass.
“Ten.” Lena grinned at the clipped tone in her aunt’s voice. “You haven’t been to church since Luis died. It would mean a lot to your mother.”
That melted the smile off her face. She slumped into the couch. “Okay. Yes. I will come to the 10:00 a.m. mass this Sunday.”
“And to the house for lunch too?”
“Yes.”
Sass swatted at her hair hanging over the arm of the couch. “This is why I should have got a dog instead of you, Sass. I’d have to walk a dog. Take it out to pee and stuff. Perfect excuse to stay home. But no. I got a cat.”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her family. It was that ever since Sadie got engaged, everyone was starting to look at Lena like she was supposed to just pick out a man and start popping out babies. Her mother was calling Sadie’s soon-to-be stepdaughter nieta and dropping grandbaby hints like it was her job. Problem was Lena had spectacularly rotten luck with men.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_174e9d12-199e-5a6a-a06d-c6a63748bbec)
MATT PLANTED HIS hands on the balcony railing and looked down at the crowd below. He was bone tired and the voices below were echoing off the high ceiling, making his head hurt. The only thing keeping the smile on his face was the memory of Lena Reyes’s departure. Her long black hair swinging side to side as she strode away. He smiled again. She didn’t look like any financial expert he’d ever met. He hadn’t missed the heat in those nearly black eyes either. When he’d sat beside her and she looked at him. There was nothing professional in her eyes at that moment.
A hand patted his shoulder. “Very good turnout, don’t you think?” Dr. Rutledge asked.
“Great turnout. Thank you again for putting it together.”
“I’m seeing a great many sold tags going up. You’re going to be the next big thing.”
“For now. Problem with being the next is there always someone behind you, ready to be the next next.”
Dr. Rutledge laughed. “Very true, but what’s that old cliché? Make hay while the sun shines? Keep this going for as long as you can, give the money to Lena. I don’t know how she does it, but she has the magic touch.”
“If she’ll even take me as a client now.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dr. Rutledge said. “She’ll get over it. If you’re lucky.”
“I hope so. I really need her help.”
“What you really need is to get back downstairs and charm wallets out of purses.”
“If I must.”
Dr. Rutledge’s rich laughter echoed in the open area. “Just smile at the ladies and remember what this is all for.”
“I never forget that. I will also never forget all your help.”
“You’re welcome, son. But I’m doing it for selfish reasons.”
“I wouldn’t call helping sick kids selfish.”
“No. I’m doing it because of that look I saw in Clarissa’s eyes when she was painting with you. That joy? All her pain forgotten? I want to see that for a very, very long time.”
Matt followed the older man down the stairs and into the crowd. He hadn’t known who the man was who’d come into the playroom at the Children’s Hospital and interrupted his therapy session with several kids in for cancer treatment. The little redheaded girl’s grandfather, he’d surmised by their greetings. He didn’t know then that Eliot Rutledge was a world-famous neurosurgeon who felt helpless as his beloved granddaughter battled leukemia. Matt didn’t know then that his world was about to change. His dream was suddenly much closer.
But it was going to come with a price. He had to go back into that upper-crust society that he’d rejected when he left Maryland. He smiled and nodded and shook hands. It all came back so easily. Too easily. He gave his patented, panty-melting bad boy grin to the little old ladies and was perfectly polite to the single women. Firm handshakes and backslaps to the men. God, get me out of here. His thoughts drifted back to Lena Reyes. She’d stood out. She didn’t even realize how radical an act sitting alone at a function like this was. It intrigued him.
* * *
“I’D LIKE TO know exactly what was wrong with my original plan to get married at the UPS store by a notary.”
Lena stared openmouthed at Sadie, lowering the bridal gown she was holding. “What were those words that just came out of your face?”
Sadie pouted, flipping quickly through the gowns. “No. No. God, no. Not in a million years no.”
“Slow down. You aren’t even looking at them.” Sadie didn’t answer. “Sades? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Replacing the gown on the rack, Lena grabbed Sadie’s hand and pulled her to sit on the bench by the dressing room door. “Digame.”
“It’s nothing. I just... I didn’t want all this fuss.”
“Then why are you doing it? Go to the UPS store then.”
Sadie leaned forward, propping her elbows on her thighs, chin in hands and shook her head. “Because Jules wants to be a flower girl.”
“Wait. You are having this lavish wedding just so Jules can throw some flower petals around?”
“It’s not lavish. It’s very small. And simple.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s just so much stuff to do. I don’t like to do stuff.”
“See. That’s where you made your fatal error. You let my mom help you because you were lazy. Next thing you know you’re in a Scarlett O’Hara dress. You better pick out something today before she makes up her mind for you. Just sit here. I’ll pick out some choices.”
She returned to the rack. Part of her was a bit annoyed. She hadn’t expected Sadie to turn into a Bridezilla by any means, but this pouting was unexpected. Taking a deep breath, she began to pull dresses. Three. That was Sadie’s problem. Anything new was overwhelming. A store full of dresses was too much.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s try these on.”
It gave her a small amount of pleasure that it was the first one. She’d known it was the one. Sadie came out of the dressing room looking stunned. The creamy ivory looked good against her fair skin and the cascade of black curls down her back was the only veil she’d need.
“It’s perfect,” Sadie whispered.
“Of course it is. I have excellent taste.”
“Great! You can pick out your own maid of honor dress then.”
“I was going to do that anyway.”
That got a laugh out of Sadie and seemed to relax her. Lena put her hands on Sadie’s shoulders. “You deserve this.”
“I know. I want to marry Wyatt and maybe start a family. I just don’t want to have to do all the wedding stuff. It seems like showing off.”
Sadie turned to look in the mirror. “This is a beautiful dress though.”
Lena grabbed Sadie’s hand as she reached for the price tag. “Don’t look. Just don’t. I’ll take care of it and you can reimburse me after the wedding.”
A look of horror crossed Sadie’s features. “Why? How much? Please don’t pay more for a dress than I’d pay for a car.”
“It’s not that bad. Go change.”
While Sadie was changing, Lena paid for the dress so she couldn’t change her mind. Sadie needed this. She deserved this. After everything she’d been through in her life, Sadie needed to have something normal. And nothing was as normal as a nice fancy wedding.
“All done,” she said as Sadie returned from the dressing room. “It’s yours. We’ll arrange for a fitting closer to the wedding date.”
“How much was it?”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s your wedding day, Sadie. You don’t have to go full formal, princess fairy-tale wedding, but you deserve the day to be special. Be the center of attention for once. Let the people who love you celebrate your happiness with you.”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll do it all. Flower toss, garter toss. Everything. Except cake smashing in the face. I despise that.”
“Agreed. It’s a perversion of the original intent.”
“Fine then.”
Lena laughed at Sadie’s bulldog expression. “I’m going to make you love every minute of the wedding if it kills me.”
“I’ll enjoy the wedding. I refuse to enjoy the planning.”
“Deal. But remember, if you leave it to my mother, it’s going to be quinceñera and Catholic wedding meets Designing Women. You need to set limits with her. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
As they walked to Lena’s car, Sadie hooked her arm in Lena’s. “Thank you for the dress. But I can’t be mean to your mom. She’s so sweet.”
Lena made a rude noise. “That’s just a disguise to lure you into her plans.”
The BMW beeped as Lena hit the unlock button and they climbed in. Sadie leaned back and closed her eyes. “It’s just so exhausting. Having to make so many choices constantly.”
“I know. It’ll get better.”
“How? The dress is the only thing we’ve done!”
“And the wedding is in two months? Sadie! Have you picked a place? A cake? Invites? Save the dates? Anything?”
“No.”
Lena let loose a stream of Spanish.
“Hey!” Sadie said. “I understand some of that.”
Lena cranked the engine. “I’m going to send you a list. I want you to do two things on the list every week.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
As she pulled out into traffic, Lena glanced over at Sadie. She was pretending to be grumpy but they’d been friends long enough that she knew it was better to give Sadie a single task to do rather than a giant mountain of them.
“Want to come for lunch on Sunday?” Sadie asked. “Jules wants to learn more Spanish.”
“I wish I could. But I promised I’d go to mass and have lunch with the family.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I think they’re up to something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6d07f4df-0ebc-5c06-9c76-e0488c015161)
THE PLAYROOM AT the Children’s Hospital was a bright, open room with a wall of windows and several skylights. Matt made his way to the art corner, high-fiving a couple of frequent fliers.
“What are we painting today, Mr. Matt?” a little girl called out from the book nook.
“Scary stuff for Halloween,” he answered. As if these kids would be scared of Halloween fakery when they were battling real monsters like cancer and sickle-cell anemia and cystic fibrosis. But that was why he did this. Art allowed kids to express themselves in a way that didn’t involve words. They might not be able to verbalize their fear but they could draw a picture of it.
He sat down at the long table and began to lay out supplies. Heavy white paper precut into mask shapes and elastic string. “Gather ’round, little ghosts and goblins,” he called out. “We’ll be making Halloween masks today.”
Clarissa slid into the chair next to him. She smiled up at him shyly. Her dark red hair had all fallen out but she still had a spark in her amber-brown eyes. “Mr. Matt? Can I make a witch face?”
“You can make anything you’d like. Want to help me get set up?”
Ten minutes later, he was circling the table. Seven kids were all in varying stages of finishing their masks. He had a witch, a vampire, a zombie and assorted monsters. Today’s exercise wasn’t so much about revealing or relieving some inner emotion, but simply to have fun and do something normal. Once they’d finished, he attached the elastic string to hold the masks in place.
“Grandfather!” Clarissa called out.
Matt looked over as Dr. Rutledge approached the table. He stopped and put his hands on his hips. “Grandfather? My granddaughter is the most beautiful girl in the world. Not some witchy woman!”
Clarissa giggled and lifted the mask. “It’s me, Grandfather!”
Matt smiled as Dr. Rutledge gathered Clarissa up in his arms. A familiar tug pulled at his heart. He’d been so terrified of his own grandfather that he called him “Mr. Matthews.” Being with him had been like being in the principal’s office for an offense he didn’t commit. He turned away and finished cleaning up the detritus of the project.
“Matt.”
He looked up at Dr. Rutledge. “Yes, sir?”
“Eliot. How many times do I have to ask you?”
“Sorry. Prep school indoctrination.”
“I just wanted to thank you again for all you do here.”
Matt stood. “No need for that. This...” He trailed off. How to explain it? That it was like a drug? That moment when a kid who is scared or angry or feeling overwhelmed lets go of it all and smiles and laughs? Acts like a kid? He lived for, craved those moments.
“This is your passion. I can see that. Anything I can help out with?”
Matt shrugged. “Your patronage has helped a lot. I’m funneling all the funds from the sale of my art into setting up a nonprofit so I can do this full-time and reach kids outside the hospital setting. There are a lot of kids in not-so-ideal situations that art therapy can help.”
“Well, Lena Reyes can help with that.”
“I hope so. The sooner the better. Thanks again for getting me in the door with her. I know she’s very picky about what clients she takes on.”
“You’re welcome,” Eliot said, but a slight frown creased his brow. “You know...”
Matt waited. “Yes, sir?”
Eliot shook his head. “Just chasing down an idea. For an outreach outside the hospital setting. Let me talk to a couple of people and I’ll get back to you.”
“Okay. Any tips on how to smooth things over with Lena?”
Eliot’s rich laughter echoed in the cavernous playroom. “Grovel.”
Grovel. Matt smiled, remembering the look in Lena’s eyes when she realized he was the artist of the work she’d just called ugly. He hadn’t meant to trick her. There was something about her. She hadn’t hidden her anger behind a simpering smile. He’d embarrassed her and she’d been angry and let him know. He liked that. The honesty in her reaction. No games. No nonsense. He’d grovel to get her to handle his meager proceeds. He’d grovel to get her to do almost anything.
“Yo, dude! You ready?”
He looked up to see Dylan standing in the doorway, gym bag slung over a shoulder. Dylan was a respiratory therapist at the hospital and the first guy friend he’d made since moving to Charleston.
“Yep. Let me just finish cleaning up in here.”
* * *
THE DRIVE FROM downtown Charleston to the rural church halfway to Beaufort took a solid forty-five minutes. Which meant she had to wake up, on purpose, before nine on a Sunday morning. Lena sighed as she wiggled into a suitable church dress. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her family. Well, that wasn’t quite true. The unspoken question was always hanging in the air. How had Sadie snagged a husband before her?
Not that anyone would ever actually say it out loud. Except Estrella. She’d probably do it. Estrella had been a giant bag of disapproval since Lito, Lena’s grandfather, died. For what, Lena wasn’t sure but only the deeply ingrained respect for her elders kept her from pointing out to her aunt that it had been her hard work that lifted the family out of poverty. Estrella would still be in that trailer park if not for her. Not that she begrudged helping her family, but a little gratitude might be nice.
Pulling into the gravel parking lot beside the tidy, small white church relaxed something inside her. Maybe it was the way the ancient oak trees surrounded the church like sentinels. Or the quiet of the countryside. Perhaps she should go to confession. She’d been venial sinning up a storm lately. She checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror before climbing out of her BMW. A thin thread of suspicion wound around her peacefulness when she saw her mother and Aunt Estrella waiting on the porch steps.
“Mamacita,” she said as she approached and kissed her mother on both cheeks, before pulling her into a hug.
“Lena,” her mother said as she wrapped strong arms around her. “It’s been too long.”
“Lo siento. It’s just work has been crazy busy.”
Estrella snorted rudely. “You work too much.”
Lena kept the fire out of her eyes and forced her lips up in a small smile. “I’m the boss, Tia. If I don’t do the work, it doesn’t get done.”
Ana hooked her arm through Lena’s. “Enough of all that. Today is for family.”
The familiar rituals of the service soothed away Lena’s irritation. It was true she didn’t go to church often, but she found comfort in the tradition of it. The litany and the responses that never changed. The rising and kneeling. Making the cross. She found herself relaxing for what felt like the first time in forever.
Until mass was over. As the crowd milled around in the aisles on the way out, Lena felt a strong hand grip her elbow. Estrella wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. “Maria! It’s so good to see you.”
Estrella chirped out the greeting while dragging Lena with her toward the woman. And, aw crap. A guy. It’s a setup. This whole thing is a setup. Every bit of relaxation she’d felt slipped away.
“Is this your son? Qué guapo.”
Only the fact that they were in a church kept Lena from rolling her eyes. She jerked her elbow away from the vise grip.
“And this must be your niece I hear so much about. Magdalena, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Smiling and nodding, she shook the woman’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you also.” She looked at the guy. He looked as blindsided as she felt. Meddling aunties. Where would we be without them? She extended a hand to him. “Lena Reyes.”
“Eduardo Jiminez.”
Ana joined them and put an arm around Lena’s waist. “Maria, please, you and Eddie must come to the house for dinner with us.”
The fake smile melted from Lena’s lips as she gave her mother some epic side-eye. Which Ana pretended she didn’t see.
Maria put a hand on Estrella’s shoulder. “That is so kind of you. As I recall, there isn’t a chef in any fancy restaurant downtown who can cook as well as the three of you. Eduardo? We’d be delighted to join you, right?”
Lena didn’t miss the slight change in tone of voice on the word right. She was definitely in on this. Eduardo’s cheeks darkened and his shoulders slumped. “Of course, Mamacita.”
* * *
DINNER WAS AN awkward hour of competitive bragging by Maria and Estrella. The only comfort she had was that Eduardo looked as horrifyingly embarrassed as she felt. Then, as if prearranged, everyone disappeared and left the two of them alone.
“So, I guess this is the part where we fall madly in love at first sight, get married tomorrow and start having grandbabies immediately?” Lena asked.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea they’d planned this.”
Lena dismissed his apology with a shrug and a wave. “I understand. I had no idea either. Don’t worry about it.”
“But, I’m kind of glad they did,” he said.
Lena’s stomach dropped. No, no. Go back to being embarrassed so we can both run like hell. She looked him over. Dark complexion. Black glasses that gave him a good-looking-nerd vibe to match his job as a software engineer. Thinner than she liked. “Oh?” she asked through numb lips.
“You’re very pretty.” His cheeks darkened with the words.
Blushing? You’ve got to be kidding me. Hoping the smile on her lips didn’t look as fake as it felt, she rose. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you. I have to go now.”
Before he could say anything more, she fled to the kitchen. She shot Estrella a look that should have burned the flesh from her bones. “Do. Not. Ever. Do. That. Again.”
“Lena...” her mother began.
“Lo siento, Mamacita, but I can’t take any more of this. Do you understand? No more.” She left through the back door so she wouldn’t have to face Eduardo again. Footsteps chased her across the porch.
“Magdalena Teresa Reyes!”
Wow. It’d been a long time since her mother three-named her. She turned. Still mad but wilting under her mother’s glare. “I’m sorry, Momma. But that was embarrassing.”
The look in Ana’s eyes softened and she took Lena’s hand. “Lena. We want you to be happy. You’ve worked so long and so hard and you’ve always put the family first but we’re okay now. You’re okay now. It’s safe to slow down a little.”
Tears stung at her eyes. Is that what it was? Is that what was wrong with her? Was she still that same little girl terrified of failure? Of letting her family down? “It’s not that,” she said.
“Then what is it?”
Lena looked away. Across the expanse of lawn to the forest behind the house. Fifty acres. There was a path through the woods that led to a creek where her parents caught fish and sank crab traps. She’d given them this. Built all this. All these things. This house. Her fancy car. The expensive condominium. The Jimmy Choos on her feet.
“I want the magic, Mamacita. I want the romance. The whirlwind. I don’t want to be set up by my meddling aunt.”
“No reason you can’t have both. Give him a chance. He’s a nice guy.”
Lena smiled. She leaned in to hug her mother so she couldn’t see her dubious expression. Nice guys weren’t her type. No. She liked the bad boys but knew they weren’t in it for the long haul. She needed a nice bad boy. Matt rose in her mind’s eye. All long blond hair and that beard. Sort of Viking-ish. Those blue eyes and rakish grin. God, no. Overgrown frat boys were definitely not her type.
“I understand that, Momma. But no more ambushes. It made me feel like a yard-sale item.” She waved her hands in the air and adopted a carnival barker’s voice. “Over here! Fifty percent off the old maid. Come check ’er out.”
Ana crossed her arms and gave Lena a cool gaze. “Don’t get dramatic. I’m still your mother and I can still take a switch to your backside. Estrella made it seem like she would ask them over in private. I didn’t know she was going to make a production out of it.”
Lena pushed her lower lip out.
“Stop pouting. You are almost thirty years old.”
“I’ll stop pouting when you all stop treating me like a child.”
“Stop acting like one.”
“I am not acting childish. I’m acting attacked and embarrassed and humiliated.”
The two women stared at each other for a long minute. A heavy step on the porch stairs drew their attention.
“Papa,” Lena said with a respectful nod.
Her father approached and put his hands on Ana’s shoulders. “Ana, go on back inside. Let me talk to Magdalena.”
Great. Here comes the final word from the man. The head of the household. Lena held her tongue and schooled her expression into some semblance of neutrality.
After Ana shut the door behind her, he turned and took Lena’s hands. “Carida. Don’t be angry with your mother.”
“I’m not. I’m angry at Estrella.”
He made a face. “I’m not her biggest fan either, but she’s your mother’s sister so we’re stuck with her.”
They walked back to the porch and sat on the bottom step. Lena leaned against her father as he put an arm around her shoulders. “I know I’m a huge disappointment to—”
“No.” The word cut curtly across her words. “You are nothing but a blessing to this family. No one is disappointed in you.”
“It’s just that ever since Sadie...”
He shifted away to put a hand to her chin and turn her face to his. “Look at me. We are all happy for Sadie. After not having a family all her life, she’s getting one. But you are not Sadie. You are my daughter. Yes, the women are all stirred up about this. It’s normal. You start talking weddings and everyone wants to be a grandmother.”
Lena nodded. Looping her arms around his middle, she snuggled her cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you, Papa. Will you tell them to stop it now?”
His rich laughter rumbled through his chest to her ear. “I value my peace and quiet. I don’t tell the women in this family what to do.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_dcc67da4-27c6-58fb-b83b-0d5d3a37a895)
MONDAY FOUND HER back in her element. Her office on Broad Street was only a few blocks walk from her condominium. Tucked away in the back of a historic building, it was a small office, but she didn’t need a lot of room. She loved the space with its two-hundred-year-old pinewood flooring and walls of exposed brick. Sleek, minimalist furniture decorated the reception room. Less was more, she’d learned.
“Good morning,” Chloe, her receptionist, greeted her. “How was your weekend?”
“Annoying. How was yours?”
“So much fun! Some of my sorority sisters and I went up to the mountains and the leaves are all turning for fall. Met some cute guys.”
Lena smiled. Chloe was virtually a cliché of a sorority girl. Pretty. Thin. Blonde. Obsessed with fashion. She’d almost dismissed her application out of hand, but during the interview, she’d found Chloe to be smart and disciplined. The fact that she’d grown up in the homes of the rich people who Lena hoped to make richer was a bonus. Chloe knew how to tease and charm the clients but more importantly, she was an amazing manager.
The door opened and Lena’s second employee came in. If Chloe soothed the nerves of the upper crust about having an unknown Hispanic woman handle their money, Mose certainly challenged their faith. Mose, named Moseley Braun after the first female African American senator, was almost six feet tall with a strong, athletic build and dark skin that made her hazel eyes stand out. She wore her hair shorn close to her head and usually about two pounds of jewelry. She was also poised to be the first partner in Reyes Financial Management.
“Did you hear about Hong Kong?” Mose asked the second she crossed the threshold.
“Good or bad?”
“Good. I’ll have a report on your desk in an hour.”
Lena and Chloe watched as Mose continued through the reception to her tiny office in the back. “Well, okay,” Chloe said. “Welcome to Monday.”
“Any messages over the weekend?”
“Just one. A...” Chloe cleared her throat and continued in a dramatic tone. “Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth said he had been referred by Eliot Rutledge and would like to set up an appointment.”
“The fifth? What is wrong with these people?”
Chloe shrugged. “Not a clue. Usually whoever is the third breaks with tradition and names their child something new. But some of these old-money dudes are awful attached to the name.” She made air quotes around the last two words.
Lena waved a hand. “Set it up. Earliest this week.”
She stopped at the coffeemaker before heading to her office. Mondays were generally appointment free. The stock market didn’t stop for the weekend, and while she kept an eye on the happenings over the weekend, unless something monumental happened, she waited until Monday. It was a day of review and planning. Taking what action was necessary to either protect or improve her clients’ portfolios. She kicked her shoes off the moment she sat at her desk. Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth. She’d pegged him 100 percent. Spoiled trust-fund baby. Playing with daddy’s money. She couldn’t wait to tell him no, no matter what Eliot thought of him. She flicked her eyes in the direction of Mose’s office. Unless he really had a lot of money. Maybe she’d kick him over to Mose as her first client.
She plugged her phone in and opened her Pandora app to her classical music station and began sorting through the weekend’s financial changes. Knowing what changes would affect which clients and adjusting accordingly was the thing she loved most about her job. It was a constant dance. She had to keep the perfect balance between daring and caution. Most of all, she loved when that little tingle of intuition that she couldn’t explain proved to be successful.
A flickering light caught her eye and she frowned at the phone. She’d been deep in the zone. Lowering the volume, she picked up the phone. “Yes, Chloe?”
“Sorry to bother you, but William Durant is on the phone. He says he needs to speak to you about his accounts.”
“Put him through.” She pulled up Bill’s account. Not her biggest. Not her smallest. Nor her most challenging. A cautious investor, Bill Durant was. “Good morning, Bill. How can I help you?”
“Well, I have some good news and some bad news. Good news—I’ve taken a position with a medical ministry in Scotland.”
“Wow. Okay. That sounds amazing. Tell me about it.”
“Essentially, I will be coordinating medical missions for the School of Medicine in Glasgow. A dream job for me. And, of course, we’ll be moving there. The kids are very excited.”
“Well, where’s the bad news, then?” She smiled as she said it, but she knew what was coming. He was taking his money with him.
“The thing is, my wife and I have talked about it and we don’t think we’re going to come back.”
“So you’re going to need to transfer your accounts to Scotland. That’s reasonable.”
“Yes. It won’t be right away. I’m leaving in a month. Sandra and the kids will follow if the house hasn’t sold by then. And I’ll have to find someone as good as you in Scotland. Will you be able to do the transfers once I’m over there?”
“Yes. It won’t be a problem. I’m sorry to lose you, but I’m excited for you. Sounds like an amazing opportunity for the whole family.”
She carried on the chitchat for a while. “Well, shit,” she said out loud after she ended the call. She kept her list small and exclusive so that she could give each client all the attention they deserved. It was a delicate balance that kept the agency’s lights on.
She let out a low stream of Spanish expletives. Now she had to hope Mr. Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth had an account big enough to replace what she was going to lose.
* * *
MATT LOUNGED BACK in one of the two armchairs that made up his living room in the cramped apartment. The downtown location was perfect for his needs. He could walk to both his jobs, the grocery store and the waterfront was near enough to haul his painting supplies to. But damn, it was pricey. He bounced his phone in his hand. He did not want to make this call. Talking to his father never ended well. Playing briefly with the idea of calling his mother instead, he shook his head. No. She didn’t know anything. How in this day and age a woman could defer every financial detail of her life to her husband, he couldn’t comprehend.
“Ah, screw it,” he muttered. Do it for the kids, man. He made the call before he could talk himself out of it.
“Hi, Millicent,” he said to his father’s executive assistant and suspected lover. “It’s Matt. Is my father available to talk?”
“One moment, I’ll check.”
If she was surprised to hear from him, her voice didn’t show it. She was smooth, almost coldly polite. With one quick click, classical music filled his ear. He waited. And waited. He hooked the other chair with his foot and pulled it around to prop his feet up on and let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Warm October sunshine flowed through the window. He noticed the fall of the light and the swirling dust motes. He should probably dust.
Finally, after whatever length of time his father deemed necessary to exert dominance, the line clicked again. “What is it, Charles? I’m very busy.”
“Hey, Dad. How are you? How’s Mother?”
“What do you want? And don’t say money.”
Narrowing his eyes at the dig, he pressed his lips together against the automatic response that wanted to fly out of his mouth. A fight wasn’t why he’d called. He had never asked his father for a cent. Keep calm. Don’t get drawn in.
“Actually I was calling to get some information about the trust fund Grandmother left me.”
“You can’t access it early if that is what you want.”
He kept careful control over his temper. But his father could make him lose it faster than anyone on the planet. “That isn’t what I was going to ask but it’s heartwarming that you still have such a low opinion of me.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I’m having some success with my art recently and I’m getting ready to hire a financial manager. I wanted to know if I can transfer the administration of the trust fund over to her, or does it have to stay with the executor of Grandmother’s estate?”
The long moment of silence made him grin. He hadn’t expected that, now, had he? If he heard a throat clearing, that would mean he’d scored a direct hit. But alas, his father’s voice was steady and cold. “That’s something you’d need to discuss with the executor.”
“Can I have the contact information?”
“I’ll send you back to Millicent for that.”
“Thanks, Dad,” he said as the call ended on his father’s end. “Nice chat. We should do it again sometime.”
After getting the information from Millicent, he tossed the phone on the couch beside him. Nice to know nothing’s changed. Still the black sheep, the wayward son. Growing up under the weight of his family’s expectations had been suffocating. They’d given him little choice: join the law firm or go away. So he’d gone away. Only his grandmother had believed in him and encouraged his art from a young age. Her death six years ago had driven the last wedge between him and his family. The bulk of her estate had gone to charity, but she’d left a sizable trust fund for him. His parents had been furious with their tokens and his father even tried to contest the will.
Trouble was he wouldn’t get the money until he was thirty-five. Which was why he was scrambling between his part-time jobs as an art therapist and giving lessons to anyone who would hire him. This little windfall needed expert guidance. And Lena Reyes was the woman he wanted to do it.
He grabbed up the phone and dialed her number.
Ten minutes later, he was making his way to the Children’s Hospital with a grin he couldn’t quite keep off his face. He’d get to see the lovely Lena on Friday. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. The temperature was a perfect seventy degrees. Maybe he could take the kids outside to paint in the horseshoe area.
* * *
AS IF THIS Monday wasn’t sucky enough with losing a client and having to make an appointment with a bad-boy trust-fund brat, now her mother was calling. All Lena wanted was to sit on the couch, drink wine and eat pizza. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
“Eduardo would like a date.”
Lena dropped the slice of pizza back on the plate. Sass jumped up and stuck her face in it.
“No!”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry. I was talking to the cat. Come on, Mom. Really? Y’all are setting me up on blind dates now?”
“It’s not a blind date. You’ve met him. He liked you.”
Lena frowned and picked at a piece of pepperoni. She’d have to go for a run tomorrow to make up for this. She tried to put a name to the emotion squirming within her at the idea of going on a date with Eduardo. Don’t want to. Yeah, that’s it.
“Magdalena.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You sound like a whining six-year-old. He’s a nice man. Educated. Has a good job. Not bad-looking. What? You got so many men falling at your feet that you can be picky?”
“Damn, Mom. You can lay one hell of a guilt trip.”
“Don’t curse. It isn’t ladylike. And I’m Catholic—we’ve cornered the market on guilt. May I give him your phone number?”
Slouching down into the corner of the couch, Lena sighed. So, she’d go on a date. Give him a chance. Then maybe they’d leave her alone. She could say she tried. “Okay.”
Hanging up, she looked up at the ceiling.
Sass jumped back up on the couch and stared at her. “What do you think, Sass? Eduardo?”
Sass responded by lifting her leg and licking her privates. Lena took a huge bite of pizza. “Now, that,” she said with her mouth full, “is unladylike.”
* * *
THE MELLOW MUSHROOM restaurant in Avondale seemed extra noisy. Lena frowned and scanned the restaurant for Sadie. Spotting a hand waving in the air, she headed in that direction.
“It’s so loud in here tonight,” she said.
Sadie gestured at the wineglass on the table. “That’s for you.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s going on?” Sadie asked, lifting her own glass.
“Not much. The usual.”
“No. I mean—” Sadie waved a hand in Lena’s face “—what’s going on with this face?”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look like you’d like to kick a puppy.”
Lena scowled. Sometimes having a best friend wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Especially when said best friend was all chirpy happy and sleeping with a gorgeous hunk of man every night. The scowl deepened when Sadie laughed. Loudly.
“Stop it.” Sadie gasped. “Now you look like you want to stab a nun.”
The waitress appeared and Lena gave her order without looking at the menu. Pizza twice in one week. She’d definitely have to do some running this weekend. She sipped wine and tried to relax her face while Sadie ordered.
“So, what’s going on?”
Lena made another face. “My mother. That’s what’s going on. She made me agree to go on a date with some random dude my aunt Estrella dragged to the house last weekend.”
“Pooh! A date. Tell me more.”
She told Sadie about the date, that there was no spark.
“What else?” Sadie asked in a leading tone.
“I lost a client. He’s moving overseas. Sort of bummed about it.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. Do you have another client waiting?”
Lena looked down at her drink. Matt’s smile and appraising blue eyes came to mind. She felt a little rush of heat. “Yeah. But I don’t know. I may give him to Mose to be her first client.”
“Whoa! Whoa! Stop the planet. What did you just say? You? OCD queen? Are going to turn over a new client?”
Lena shrugged and Sadie leaned in close to stare into her eyes. “Stop staring at me.”
“What’s up with Mr. New Client?”
“Nothing.”
“Lena. You are practically blushing. Tell me. I’m your best friend. You are required by law to tell me the details of your life.”
Their pizzas arrived and Lena took a few bites, ignoring Sadie as hard as she could. Sadie grinned at her from behind her wineglass. “Sass barfed up a hairball the size of my fist on the bathroom rug and I accidentally stepped in it.”
“Gross. Lena, I’m trying to eat here.”
“You said I had to tell you all the details of my life.”
“Point. Revision—tell me all about this new client you don’t want to take on.”
“Trust-fund frat boy.”
Sadie made a face. “Ugh. Yeah. Give him to Mose.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Sadie’s instant agreement helped. She was attracted to him simply based on his looks and that bad boy vibe he gave off. But she was over that. She was almost thirty years old and she didn’t have time to play. Serious applicants only. She let out a long sigh. “Eduardo it is.”
“Ha-ha. Mr. Dream Nerd.”
“Knock it off, okay? It’s bad enough I have to go out with him. Ugh. My life sucks. And why are they so loud up there?”
“It’s a restaurant, Lena, not a library.”
The waitress stopped by to refill their water glasses.
Lena pointed at the upper level. “What’s going on up there? They are so loud.”
“A wedding party,” the waitress replied with a smile.
“Aww,” Sadie cooed. “A wedding party.”
“Who has a wedding party at a pizza joint?”
“Indeed,” Sadie said, looking up at the waitress. “Do you know the happy couple?”
The waitress nodded. “Kim and Ben.”
Sadie pushed back her chair and, grabbing her glass of wine, stood. “Hey,” she yelled. She lifted the glass toward the party above. “To Kim and Ben. May all your ever-afters be happy!”
“Seriously?” Lena asked as Sadie sat back down. “Am I going to get all chirpy and goo-gooey if I fall in love?”
“Yes. Yes, you are. And you’ll stop being a grumpy muffin.”
“Grumpy muffin? Oh geez. Next thing I know, you’ll be cutting my food for me.”
“Go out with Eduardo. Maybe you won’t want to stab him in the face. Give him a chance. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Lena shoved a bite of pizza into her mouth to stop the ready retort. She loved Sadie like a sister, but that woman had been on maybe two dates in her life. Wyatt fell out of the sky into her lap. What’s the worst that could happen? “Chad.”
Sadie coughed as she choked on a sip of wine. “Chad. The serial killer! I forgot about him.”
“He wasn’t really a serial killer,” Lena said. “Just creepy.”
“The one who wanted to take all those pictures of you.”
“Dios mío. Remember all the messages he left me once I told him to shove off?”
Sadie leaned forward. “Lena,” she said, imitating a deep male voice, “You’re my soul mate. You and I were written in the stars. You can’t deny fate.”
A shudder ran through Lena’s body. “Stop doing that. You sound just like him. What a pervert.”
Sadie sat back. “Wonder what ever happened to him?” She pulled out her phone. “Want to look him up on the sex offenders list?”
“No!”
“Want to look up Eduardo?”
“No.”
“You sure? I can have Wyatt check him out.”
“And y’all wonder why I don’t want you poking your noses in my love life.”
“You have no love life, Lena. You do nothing but work, go home, order delivery and watch Netflix. If you didn’t meet me for dinner every Wednesday, you’d have no social life either.”
Glancing around for their waitress, Lena held up her wineglass. That hit a little too close to home. Problem with having a best friend is they told you the ugly truth about yourself.
“I know. I’m in a rut.”
“You’re in the Grand Canyon, sister girl.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Tell me one thing you did this week that wasn’t family or work related.”
“I went for a run every other day.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“What do you want me to do? Cook for myself? Get on one of those stupid ass dating sites? Volunteer at some charity? Build a house for Habitat for Humanity?”
Sadie’s teasing smirk faded as she reached out and took Lena’s hands in hers. “I’m not trying to be mean, Lena. I’m sorry. I have no room to talk here. Before Wyatt—”
“Fell into your lap.”
“True. I was in that same rut. Work. Sleep. Work. It’s just that I want you to be happy. And I don’t know how to help you.”
She tightened her fingers against Sadie’s. “You help by being my friend. By kicking my butt when I get whiny.”
“Or pull the princess routine.”
“I’m going to be okay, Sadie. I think I’m at a crossroad. I’ve achieved all the goals I set for myself. Just need to set some new ones.”
“Like telling me about this new client.”
“Oh, you mean Charles Beaumont Matthews the Fifth? Old Virginia money. Trust fund from his grandmother. It’s kind of obvious.”
“Have you met him yet?”
Lena hesitated as their food was delivered. Sadie dived into her pizza like she’d not eaten in a month. She stared at hers, her appetite mostly gone. Pulling a bit of mushroom off, she popped it in her mouth. “Yes. He was obnoxious.”
“Normal people limit of obnoxious or Lena Reyes’s standards?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you have a history of judging people—and by people, I mean men—rather harshly.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“I’m not even talking to you anymore.”
“Jules wants you to help her with a Spanish project for school.”
Lena sighed and took a huge bite of pizza. Sadie knew she couldn’t deny Jules anything. One pleading look from her dark eyes would melt the hardest of hearts.
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Grouch.”
“Meanie.”
“I’ll have Wyatt run Eduardo through a background check. We don’t want you hooking up with another serial killer.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_dea16352-a6ad-5e82-92cb-533332dd9f94)
MATT SLOWED HIS pace as he approached the building. Glancing in a store window, he ran a hand down his beard and checked his hair. He was actually a little nervous. He’d made a bad impression that he really wanted to change. Deep breath. She’s just a person. Apologize. Mean it and move on. He grinned as he walked the few feet to the door of Reyes Financial Management. He had a suspicion that Lena Reyes was far more than just anything.
A pretty blonde sat at the receptionist’s desk as he entered. She looked up and smiled. Her polite business expression didn’t change, but her eyes moved over him and her smile widened. “Mr. Matthews?”
“That’s me. You can call me Matt.”
She stood and swept her hand in a graceful motion toward a leather sofa against the exposed brick wall. “Please, have a seat. I’ll let Ms. Reyes know you’re here.” She stepped through the doorway to the back of the office and paused. “May I bring you anything? Coffee, water?”
“No, I’m good.”
He sat and looked around. Broad Street was a pricey location. The reception area was small but tastefully decorated. His experienced eye noted the antique reception desk. The leather sofa was butter soft. Dark wood end tables held an array of local magazines. The floors were the original pine, probably two hundred years old and the brick wall behind him looked to be made of hand-kilned brick.
The blonde was back. “Ms. Reyes is ready for you.”
“Okay.” Question was, he thought as he followed the blonde, was he ready for her?
Lena stood as he entered her office. It was a bit more spacious than the reception area, but just as richly decorated. “Thank you, Chloe,” she said. “Sit down.”
He sat in the chair across from her and smiled. “I really want to apologize for the other night. Really. I had no idea.”
Her cheeks flushed but the expression on her face remained cool. “I’ve asked my assistant to sit in with us.” She picked up the phone. “Mose, we’re ready.”
He sat back. Okay. Definitely not forgiven. Let it go. Get this money stuff over with. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a file, setting it on the desk. “I had the accountant who is handling this for me send the information.” He put the file on the desk.
“Good. You’re here. Let’s get started,” Lena said when a striking African American woman walked in and took the chair next to him. She smiled. “I’m Mose. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Matt,” he said, shaking her offered hand.
Lena pulled the file to her and opened it. Matt watched her face as she flipped through the papers. He was sure she was unaware of how readable her face was. Little nods, quick quirks of the lips, fleeting frowns. It was her eyes that held his attention though. Nearly black, keenly focused and simply gorgeous. He wanted to paint those eyes.
“Good,” she said, looking up. She handed the file to Mose, who took it and began riffling through the pages. “Mr. Matthews, what is your financial goal?”
Mr. Matthews. Inwardly, he groaned. He dropped his voice a few octaves and put on a snooty country club voice. “Well, Ms. Reyes, the thing is, you make me feel like my father when you call me Mr. Matthews and I’d really prefer not to feel like my father.”
Mose snickered but Lena’s face did not change. “Your goals then, Matt?”
He leaned forward. Give it up, man. Stick to business. “Okay. You can see my grandmother left me a sizable trust fund. I won’t have access to that for another four years, but I’d really like to put it somewhere and let it grow. My immediate goal is to take the money I’m making now selling art and grow that now. Quickly but safely. I want to open a nonprofit to provide art therapy for kids who need it but can’t afford it.”
Wait. What was that? A flicker of warmth in those black eyes?
“Art therapy,” Mose said. “What is that?”
He turned to her. “Basically what it says. It’s a form of therapy using art instead of talking or what have you. Works really great for kids who may not have the vocabulary to say how they feel about things, but they can draw pictures and talk about the things in the pictures.”
“Is that what you do now?”
“Yes. I do it part-time at the Children’s Hospital. And teach private art lessons also. But I really want to take advantage of my sudden popularity as an artist before it goes away to get some capital and connections to help make my nonprofit a reality.”
He looked back at Lena. There was a definite thaw in her expression. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Get me talking about it and I’ll go on all day.”
A smile curved Lena’s lips and now he really wanted to paint her. Gorgeous and complex and shut up, man, she’s handling your money. “I can see you are very passionate about it.”
As she began listing options for him, he felt his eyes glaze over. He held up a hand. “Listen. I’ll be honest. I’m an artist. I don’t know anything about money or markets. I trust you. Do your magic.”
The ice was back. “I don’t like to do business like that, Mr. Matthews. I want my clients to know exactly what I am doing and why.”
“That’s fine. Keep me in the loop. But just do what you think is best.”
* * *
“OH. MY. GOD.”
Lena looked up as Chloe appeared in her doorway after seeing Matt out. “What?”
“What?” Chloe and Mose asked in shocked unison.
Fanning her face with her hand, Chloe leaned against the doorjamb. “Seriously, Lena. That was about the hottest chunk of man I have ever seen in real life with my own two eyes.”
Mose made a sound. “For a white boy, he’s all right.”
Lena closed Matt’s file and handed it to Mose. “Wipe the drool off your chins and get to work, ladies.”
“Don’t even start with me, Ms. Frosty Cakes. I know you. You were checking him out. Hell, I’m gay and I was checking him out.”
“Get out of my office. Both of you. Degenerates. We don’t drool on our clients.”
Chloe shoulder-bumped Mose as she reached the door. “Because our clients are all ninety-year-old farts.”
Lena smiled as they left. She’d tried to hide it but those blue eyes had about undone her. The long dark blond hair, the slightly too-long beard, neatly trimmed over his cheeks and longer at the chin was a look she was sure only he could make look so sexy. And when those luscious lips parted in that grin of his, she’d about lost her ability to count to ten much less evaluate his portfolio.
“Basta.”
She logged on to her computer and began going through her emails. Frat boy. Trust-fund brat. Probably a man whore. Bad boy. She repeated the litany over and over in her mind. In English. In Spanish. Still, the memory of those eyes looking directly into hers would not go away. Nor the feeling of breathless heat she’d experienced. The look on his face when he talked about helping kids. Melt.
Yeah, well, get over it. Ain’t gonna happen. Serious men only need apply. Like Eduardo. Serious. With a job. Ready for a commitment. A cold jab of fear in the gut made her press her lips together. What about you? Are you ready for a commitment?
Shaking the thought from her head, she turned back to the computer. Numbers. Numbers made sense. The give and take of the market place made sense. It was all just a shell game. Moving money here. Buying stock here. Selling it there. No messy emotion. No baffling personalities. Just numbers.
* * *
SATURDAY MORNING, SHE rolled out of bed with a groan and, not bothering with a shower, put on her running clothes and shoes. Sweeping her hair up into a high ponytail, she stepped out the rear entrance of her condominium. Perfect day for a run. Sixty-five and sunny. She stretched for a few minutes, and then headed out on her normal three-mile route. Along Waterfront Park to Adgers Wharf, East Bay to the Battery, Murray to South Battery back to East Bay, where she reversed her course. She started out and made it all the way to the High Battery before she needed to start her mental narrative of “Pizza and wine, pizza and wine, pizza and wine.” She’d inherited her mother’s and aunt’s tendency for a big butt and running was the only thing that kept it in check.
Mentally adding another two hundred calories burned from dodging tourists, she reached the stairs to the Low Battery and pressed on. The throngs of tourists thinned out dramatically once she’d passed White Point Garden and left her obligated only to lift a hand or grunt out a greeting to fellow runners as she passed. And she had a date. With Eduardo. Tonight. Just do it. Suck it up. One night. Then maybe la familia will leave you alone. The thought made her kick up her pace. Was there anything more excruciating than dating at her age?
The food. Just think of the food. She turned down South Battery with the menu of Halls Chophouse on her mind. An hour or so of awkward small talk is a fair price to pay for some of the best food in Charleston, right? You can do this. She huffed out a sigh. Flipped a middle finger at a dude who called out “Qué pasa, chica” as she ran past him. What to wear? You’re gonna have to shave if you want to wear a dress.
The “to shave or not to shave” debate got her back to Waterfront Park. She slowed to a walk as she approached the pineapple-shaped water fountain at the center of the park, cooling down and getting her breath back. Nope. If she was going to be forced on a date, she was going to pull out all her weapons. And her legs were killer.
“Hello, Ms. Reyes.”
She turned at the sound of the voice. And froze. Great. Here you are dripping sweat and probably smelling like a dead goat in the sun and there is Mr. Hot-Frat-Boy. She stopped and put her hands on her hips. Dear, sweet baby Jesus in the manger. He was splayed out on a blanket in the grass, propped up on his elbows. The paint-smeared T-shirt he wore rode up just enough for her to get a glimpse of hard abs and a little dark blond fuzz. There was an honest-to-God palette on the blanket beside him and an easel holding a canvas. Bad-boy grin was on full power.
She took a few steps in his direction. “Mr. Matthews.”
He pulled himself up to sit cross-legged on the blanket. “Matt, please. I beg of you. Mr. Matthews makes me feel like I should get a haircut and put on a suit or something. Beautiful day, don’t you think?”
She stopped at the edge of the blanket. She didn’t get him. Everything about him screamed entitled, rich white boy but he didn’t show it. At all. “Yes,” she said, sarcasm dripping from each word. “It is quite a lovely day, Mr. Matthews.”
He grinned and her stomach went quivery. A frown creased her face. Do that again, gut, and no dessert for you tonight.
“Come on, I’m sorry for the other night. Really, I am. Why won’t you accept my apology? I’d like to be friends.”
She looked at the painting. Unlike the large, minimalist paintings she’d seen at the Gallery, this was much more to her taste. A softer Jonathan Green–style of the fountain and the trees with their trails of Spanish moss swaying in the breeze.
“Whatcha think?” he asked.
“I like this better than the other stuff.”
“Why won’t you accept my apology?”
She looked back at him and crossed her arms. “Because you don’t get it.”
He held his hands out, palms up. “Then tell me what I don’t get.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment. Think, Magdalena, think. He is a client. “What you did was wrong. Not because I turned out to be who I am but because it’s wrong to pull that on anyone. Any woman would have been embarrassed. You are apologizing to me because you need me to handle your money. You need to be looking at why you wanted to embarrass a woman like that.”
She waited as he stared up at her. Here it comes. It was just a joke. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re overreacting. He got to his feet with one graceful motion.
“Crap. I never saw it like that. You’re right.” He ran a hand down his beard. “Now I feel like shit.”
She managed to hide how stunned she was. He was taking responsibility? He was being enlightened? Wow. Okay. Don’t gloat. Be nice. “Now,” she said, holding out a hand, “I’ll accept your apology, Matt.”
He took her hand and held it between both his. “Thank you for telling me that. I do try not to be an asshole most of the time.”
She slipped her hand away from his before she couldn’t hide the rush of heat she was feeling. “We’re all just humans, doing the best we can in the moment.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said with a vague gesture at her sweaty self. “I need to finish my cooldown.”
* * *
MATT WATCHED LENA walk away. The grin came back. He could think of a couple of things he’d like to do with her in the moment. He liked that she’d made him work for his apology. Liked that she’d surprised him with her blunt assessment of his behavior. Fawning sorority girls had never been his type. He’d always preferred brains over beauty. But Magdalena Reyes seemed to possess ample amounts of both. The bits of fire and steel he saw in her only intrigued him further.
He carefully cleaned his brush and bent to pick up his palette. He normally didn’t paint in public, preferring to paint from photographs when doing landscapes, but the day was so perfect. Much different from Chevy Chase where October meant winter was on the way. Charleston was near perfection in October.
As he put a few finishing touches on the painting, he kept glancing up, watching Lena’s progress along the path. Two buildings past the fountain and the City Gallery, she turned into one of the many condominiums that lined the park. Expensive real estate. Must be true what Dr. Rutledge said. She spun money out of straw.
“Pack it up,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s about ten miles outta your league, man.”
He broke down the easel and cleaned off the palette. Sitting back down on the blanket, he cleaned the brushes. Those things were not cheap and he needed them to last as long as possible. After packing everything away for the long walk back home, he lay back down on the blanket to enjoy a bit more of the day and to let the canvas dry. His phone rang and he fished it out of his back pocket.
His mother. This couldn’t be good.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” he answered. Knowing she hated Mom and preferred Mother. Capital M.
The brief moment of silence was to chasten him for his word choice. “Nothing,” her frosty voice finally replied, “is ‘up,’ Charles. I am phoning to let you know that your father and I will be visiting Charleston in a few weeks. Your father has a business meeting. We will see you for dinner.”
He let his own silence play out. She knew he hated being called Charles. He also hated the way she told him he’d have dinner with them rather than asking. Nothing new, but he’d hoped that since he was over thirty years old now, she’d treat him somewhat like an adult. He sighed. Such was the life of the black sheep. If only he’d become a lawyer. Interned for some powerful senator who owed his father a favor, then moved on to a lucrative lobbying position, scamming people for the sake of a billionaire or two, then his parents might not treat him like a dirty secret.
“Sure, that’d be great. Just let me know the night so I can clear any plans I might have.”
“Your sister is having another baby.”
Ah. Moving right on to major disappointment number two. His two sisters were popping out the grandbabies left and right, but he, the only son, the only carrier of the Matthews family name, had thus far failed to produce a Charles Beaumont Matthews the Sixth.
“Awesome. Which one?”
“Susannah. She’s due in April.”
“Tell her and Biff I sent my congratulations.”
“His name is Bill.”
“Is Biff Charlotte’s husband? I get them mixed up.”
“You are being unpleasant. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Mom,” he said as she ended the call.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family. He just didn’t like them very much. Boring. Predictable. And so many damned rules.
He stood to gather his things when the phone rang again. He almost didn’t look, sure it was his father calling to yell at him for upsetting his mother. And his mother merely annoyed him. His father could push buttons that made him want to punch walls. But it was Eliot Rutledge. This was random.
“Dr. Rutledge, how are you?”
“Eliot, please, son. How many times do I have to ask?”
“Enough to overcome the ruthless teachings of several deportment for proper gentlemen classes, sir.”
Eliot laughed. “Yes. I have a daughter who was politely asked to leave several of those.”
“How may I help you?”
“I have an idea. Now, I understand you have a lot going on with your job at the hospital and your art career beginning to take off, so tell me no if you need to.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
Like he was going to tell his benefactor no. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too onerous.
“I do some volunteer work at the St. Toribio Mission out on John’s Island. Are you familiar with it?”
“Vaguely. They work with the migrant workers?”
“Yes. Primarily, but the doors are open to anyone needing help. I was thinking about creating an art-therapy program for the children. I see them there while their parents are getting medical or legal help and they have nothing to do but sit and wait. I thought an art room with supplies would be helpful.”
Matt nodded. “Actually, sir, that sounds like an amazing idea. I’m sure it would help them quite a bit. What are you thinking? Weekly sessions or just get it set up?”
“For now, getting it set up. We have plenty of volunteers who could watch the kids and keep the room and supplies in order.”
“Okay. I’m in. Just let me know when and where.”
“Very good. Thank you. I’ll be back in touch.”
Matt ended the call with a smile on his face. At least someone appreciated his art and his desire to use it to help others.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_4f2ead54-f660-5096-8842-4b2ceb859dfd)
LENA STOOD IN the doorway of her walk-in closet. Sass wound her way around her ankles, getting cat hair on her still-damp and freshly shaved legs. “What do you think, Sass? Standard black? Or should we pull out all the stops and go with the red?”
As she moved into the closet, Sass dashed under the row of neatly hanging dresses, her tail trailing along the hems as she walked. Lena sighed. “I might as well just buy everything in Sass orange. It’d be cheaper than all the lint rollers.”
She’d always wanted a pet. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was a cat. Sass seemed interested in what she had to say, so that was all that mattered. Lena leaned down to scratch behind Sass’s ear. Lifting a dress from the rod, she turned to the mirror. “I’m going with the red. I shaved my legs for this.” She hooked a pair of shoes out of the shoe rack. Black stilettos with four-inch heels. “Let’s see what poor old Eduardo thinks about this.”
She slipped the dress on, careful not to smudge her makeup, and wiggled the zipper up. Oh, hell yes. She smoothed down the front. The dark red set off her hair and eyes and it clung to her curves like nothing else. Bonus, it actually came down to just above her knees so she didn’t have to worry about accidently flashing anyone.
Trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, she fluffed her hair and grabbed the shoes. “All right, Sass. It’s showtime.”
* * *
THE UBER DRIVER pulled up to the curb directly outside Hall’s Chophouse. Lena frowned. Eduardo was there, waiting. In rumpled khaki pants and a short-sleeved, blue plaid shirt. And was he wearing sneakers? For this, I shaved above the knee. She slipped her shoes back on and stepped out of the car.
He didn’t even notice. Just stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring the wrong way down the street. “Idiot,” she muttered under her breath. Shaking her head, she approached him. The clack of her heels on the sidewalk must have caught his attention because he turned in her direction.
“Oh, hi,” he said.
She stopped in front of him. “Hello.”
He pressed his lips together and looked down at his shoes. “You know, I know our families sort of pushed this on us and I was just trying to go along with it, but, so if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”
Her mouth, she managed to keep shut. Her eyes, however, fixed on him in a stare so hot he should have burst into flames. He glanced at her and a shadow of fear crossed his features. The door to the restaurant opened and an older man dressed properly in a suit walked out. He smiled at Lena.
“Excuse me, sir,” Lena said to him. She motioned at Eduardo. “This gentleman doesn’t want to go on the date he asked me out on. What do you think about that?”
The man stopped and, with a slow up-and-down look, smiled. “I think he’s a damned fool.”
“Hey. I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I said if you didn’t want to,” Eduardo protested.
Lena lifted a finger. “Dude. We are going on this date. I shaved my legs and put on a bra. We will each pay our own way. We can talk or not. Then we can each go tell our families that, oh well, didn’t work out. Okay?”
The frightened look returned. “Okay,” he said.
Lena smiled. “Okay.”
As they were seated, Lena asked for a chardonnay. She tried to hide her irritation because Eduardo was staring at her like she was going to gut him. She didn’t mean to be a bitch. She simply could not stand a wishy-washy man. Made her teeth itch.
“So, you’re a software engineer?” See, I’m being nice.
“Yes.”
Silence. For the love of God.
“What sort of software do you engineer?” Come on, man. Give me something here.
“Mostly design-and-build commercial websites.”
Lena nodded. She had no idea what that even meant. “I understand Charleston has a thriving technology community.”
He fiddled with his napkin. “Yeah.”
Lena eyed the steak knife. This was going to be a long night.
“So,” Eduardo said. “How many kids do you want to have?”
Lena froze. Stared. Gave him a long, slow blink. “Um. I don’t know?”
“Oh. Because I come from a large family. Very traditional.”
Lena raised her eyebrow in a perfect arch. Traditional. Didn’t teach you any machismo, that’s for sure. “Honestly, Ed, I think I’d like to shelve the topic of children until after my wine arrives at least.”
“I think it’s important. At your age, you can’t afford to wait, you know. Your aunt said you wanted to settle down and start a family. Me too.”
The waiter appeared with her wine and she practically snatched the glass from his hand. “Thank you. Go ahead and bring me another one, please.”
She took several steadying sips. Let out a long breath and looked back up at Eduardo. “So, you think we should just go ahead and get married? Twenty-four-hour wait on the marriage license. We could go get it Monday and be married by Tuesday. Maybe I could be pregnant by this time next week. Unless my withering eggs are too old and feeble to crawl out of my ovaries.”
His face went dark. “No wonder you have to have your family out hunting men for you. You’re mean.”
“And you’re insulting.”
“Actually, I’m leaving.”
Lena shrugged and took another sip of wine. “Bye.”
The waiter came over as Eduardo left. “Everything all right here, ma’am?”
She gave him her brightest smile and was rewarded by the pure male appreciation in his eyes. “Everything is perfect. I’m ready to order. I’ll have a cup of She Crab soup to begin. The petit filet mignon, medium well, with the parmesan truffle fries, thank you.”
She discreetly kicked her heels off and took her phone out of her purse. She was going to have her favorite meal and finish the book she’d started last weekend. Eduardo could scamper back home and tell his mommy how mean she was.
* * *
“SO, HOW’D THE date go last night?”
Lena groaned and rolled over in bed. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet, Sadie. Ugh.” Sass hopped on the bed and stomped across Lena’s stomach to stand on her chest, singing the song of her people. The song of long suffering, slow starvation and the horror of a half-empty bowl of dry food.
“Are you murdering your cat?” Sadie asked.
“Not yet,” Lena muttered, pushing Sass aside and rolling out of bed. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“So, how was the date?”
“He got up and walked out on me.”
“Ha! Wyatt! You owe me twenty dollars.”
“Are you betting on my dates? You bet against me? Bitch.”
“I know you. You are mean.”
“I’m not mean. I just don’t take bullshit.”
“What’d he do?”
“Literally, Sadie, the second question out of his mouth was how many kids did I want? Then he said I’d better hurry up before I got too old.”
“Tell me you only verbally emasculated him.”
“Yes. He called me a meanie and ran away.”
“Lena. You have to know that you can be a bit...ah...intimidating when you get angry.”
“Weeds out the weak.”
“Well maybe just give them a chance to see the nice you before you unleash your inner Latina guerrera once in a while.”
“Next time. Right now, I want coffee. Goodbye and don’t call me on a weekend before noon again unless it’s an emergency. Bruja.”
Ending the call, she tossed the phone on the counter. “Don’t even try tripping me this morning, feline.”
Ten minutes later, Sass loved her again and she was stretched out on the couch with a large, steaming cup of coffee warming her hands. Maybe Sadie was right. Maybe she was mean. Maybe she could have handled that whole situation more graciously. “You know what, Sass? Maybe he should have not asked that. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up my age. Maybe I’m not mean but he’s a rude dork. Do they ever think that?”
No, they didn’t. It was always her fault. She eyed the clock. At some point she was going to get a phone call from her mother. The way Estrella and Eduardo’s mother had planned this, there was no doubt a full report would be made. The only question was: before or after mass? Probably after.
By one that afternoon, she started to think that maybe she’d gotten away with it. Maybe Eduardo hadn’t ratted her out to his mother. But that hope was dashed shortly after two. Darth Vader’s “Imperial March” pierced the quiet, sending Sass scurrying for the bedroom.
“Bueno, Mamacita,” Lena answered.
“So. I understand things went poorly?”
Lena rolled her eyes and made a face. “Yeah, that wasn’t a good matchup. Eduardo and I aren’t on the same page. In fact, we weren’t even on the same date.”
“There was no reason for you to be rude.”
“He was rude first.”
“Now you sound like a child.”
“I’m not the one who ran tattling to my mommy.” A flood of rapid, long-suffering Spanish filled her ear. When it died down, she continued. “No more fix-ups. Promise.”
“I promise.”
“Thank you.” A frown creased her forehead. That was way too easy. “Promise, Momma.”
“I promise I won’t try to fix you up again. And I did have another reason to call. Don’t forget that Louisa’s daughter is having that operation tomorrow to fix her leg.”
“Ah, yes. Thanks. I did forget about that. I have a present for her. I’ll bring it to the hospital when I get off work.”
She ended the call feeling lucky to have gotten off that easily. She got Ava’s present and set it on the entryway table next to her purse so she wouldn’t forget it in the morning. Glancing at the time, she sat back down with a sigh. She and Sadie would usually do something on Sunday afternoons. Now Sadie was busy with Wyatt and Jules. She fired up her laptop. Might as well get some work done.
* * *
A FEW HOURS LATER, both her stomach and Sass were grumbling. She closed down her work files. Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through her delivery restaurant contacts. Mmm. Brown Dog Deli. Setting the phone down, she thought about what Sadie had said about being in a rut. Maybe she should change out of her pajamas, put on real clothes and go outside. Do something that involved people.
“I don’t want to people,” she moaned, flopping back on the couch. She picked up the phone and did a search for “Charleston events.” A moment later, she was sitting straight up. “Sass! It’s the Color of Music Festival!” Checking the time, she got to her feet. She could still make it to the Ebony and Ivory Piano Recital.
After calling to make sure there were still tickets available, she showered and changed clothes. The church hosting the recital was only a short walk away. As she reached the street, she called Sadie but the call went to voice mail. “I’m outside and peopling, for your information.”
Smiling as she strolled down the sidewalk, she realized she did feel much better. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. Everyone in her family was safe and happy. There was a line already queued up at the church. As she walked to the end of the line after buying her ticket, she heard someone calling her name.
“Hello, Dr. Rutledge,” she said, shaking hands with him. “Mrs. Rutledge. Nice to see you both.”
“I was going to call you tomorrow, Lena,” Eliot said. “I’m putting together a group to do a little charity work for the St. Toribio Center. We’ll be setting up an activity room for the children to use while their parents are being seen. We could use your Spanish skills.”
St. Toribio, the patron saint of Mexican immigrants, was more than familiar to Lena. She’d given money and attended benefits for the charity that offered not only medical and legal assistance, but English classes and adult continuing education. She’d never been actively involved in a project before.
“Wow. Yes. I’d love to help out. What do you need? A translator?”
“Thank you. Yes. Definitely translation. Also, we might need some printed materials made. Would you be able to help with that?”
“Ah,” Lena said. “I grew up speaking Spanish with my older relatives. While I’m verbally fluent, my reading and writing skills are very rudimentary. But one of my cousins has a degree in Hispanic Literature. I’m sure she’d help out.”
“Great. Well, the first planning meeting is going to be next Saturday. Right now, we’ve got it slated for ten in the morning, at my house. Is that good?”
“Got it. Thanks for asking me.”
After saying goodbye and walking to the end of the line, she realized she was grinning ear to ear. Uh. Okay. Maybe you should try this actual volunteering stuff more often. Feels pretty good.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_e9064a77-d387-5de1-b4c4-6c231e946f0d)
LATE MONDAY AFTERNOON, Lena wandered the labyrinth that was the Children’s Hospital. Ava, her cousin’s little girl, had broken her leg in a trampoline accident the previous summer. It hadn’t healed correctly over a growth plate and now required an operation.
Finally, she found the correct unit. She paused outside the open door to Ava’s room. She could hear voices. Ava and a man. Not a relative. She stepped into the doorway.
Ava was in the bed, her leg up in something that looked like a torture device. In a chair beside her was a man. She recognized that flow of dark blond hair, tied back with a length of leather. Recognized those shoulders. That voice. In a moment, she’d be seen and he would turn and those impossibly icy blue eyes would look into hers and those lips would curve into a smile and...
“Auntie Lena!” Ava squealed.
Matt turned with a surprised expression, but she had Ava to distract her. She circled the bed to the opposite side and leaned in to give Ava a hug and kiss on the forehead. “Ava. Mi probo prima! Como te sientes? Tienes dolar?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt and it’s rude to speak Spanish in front of people who don’t,” Ava said prissily. She held up a sketchbook. “Mr. Matt is drawing pictures with me because I can’t go to the playroom.”
“Ms. Reyes,” Matt said, his tone dripping with pleasured surprise and more than a little teasing. “How delightful to see you. I didn’t know Ava was your niece.”
“Technically, she’s my second cousin. But since I’m an only child, it’s agreed I get to be aunt to all my cousins’ children.”
“Did you get me a present?” Ava asked.
“You know I did.”
Lena handed Ava the gift bag she’d brought with her. Ava took out the small teddy bear. The present wasn’t really the bear though; it was the envelope dangling from its arm by a ribbon. Ava tore it open eagerly.
“Oh my gosh! Five hundred! Thank you, Auntie Lena! Am I there yet?”
Lena sat on the edge of the bed. “Not quite. But you have time.”
Ava turned to Matt. “Auntie Lena is paying for all of us to go to college.”
“Mr. Matthews doesn’t want to know about all that, Ava. And I’ve interrupted your time with him. Where are your parents?”
“They went downstairs to get Granddaddy.”
Matt lounged back in his chair, arms across his chest. His mouth was twisted in a smirk, but his eyes were warm and full of questions. “You didn’t interrupt. We were almost done.”
Lena stood and smoothed down her skirt. “Well then.” Her voice sounded prissy even to her own ear. Matt’s grin widened to a smile. “I’ll leave you to wrap it up. I’ll be back with your parents, my sweet.”
She tried to make a graceful, dignified exit. One that didn’t make it seem like she was running away. But she was fooling no one. Matt’s loaded “Goodbye, Ms. Reyes,” followed her out of the room. Saco de huevos. So infuriating. She’d like to wipe that smirk off his face.
She’d just rounded the corner when she heard her name. Turning, she saw her parents with her aunt Paula and her husband and Ava’s mother, Louisa. “There you are! I just peeked in on Ava.”
“Is the art therapist still with her?” Louisa asked.
The question took Lena aback for a moment. She’d been looking at Matt as the smirking, snotty frat boy who pissed her off by just breathing, not as a therapist doing his job. “Yes,” she stammered out. “I think they are finishing up soon though.”
“Good. Good,” her uncle Tomas said, looking over his shoulder.
Lena frowned and looked down the hallway. A man was walking toward them. A man in a white coat. A Hispanic-looking man. No. Just no. She shot a murderous look at her mother, who shook her head slightly and lifted her hands palms up.
“Ah, Vincente,” her aunt Paula said. As if she was surprised. Yeah, right.
Lena narrowed her eyes and felt her jaw clench. Louisa hid her smile behind her hand. “I’m going to kill your parents,” Lena muttered under her breath at her cousin.
“Hey! I’m going to go check on Ava,” Louisa said brightly before making a run for it.
“I think we’ll go too,” Lena’s mother said, grabbing her husband by the arm and following Louisa.
“Vincente, this is my niece Lena Reyes. Lena, Vincente goes to church with us. He’s a doctor.”
Lena smiled lukewarmly at the man. Okay. He wasn’t bad. Tall. Rather handsome. Nice smile. “Hello,” she said, reaching out to shake his offered hand.
“Lena. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your aunt speaks very highly of you.”
He had just the tiniest scrap of an accent. He held on to her hand a bit too long, forcing her to pull away. “Nice to meet you,” she said automatically.
“Doctor Perez is single also, Lena,” Paula said.
Lena turned a furious, incredulous face to her aunt. “Aunt Paula!” she hissed out between her teeth.
Vincente chuckled. “Come now, Mrs. Hernandez, you’ll make me blush.”
He looked over at Lena. His expression was both embarrassed and amused. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t in on this setup. Still. What next? Were they going to offer him a dowry to take her dried-up, old spinster self?
“And,” he continued, “I think you’ve embarrassed your beautiful niece.”
Infuriated. That’s the word you’re looking for Mister Doctor Man. Infuriated. Before she could form a coherent sentence, Paula nudged her.
“Give Dr. Perez one of your cards, Magdalena.”
A motion in the hall caught her eye. Oh, this just makes it perfect. Matt breezed past. Close enough to make sure that she saw him seeing her trapped in this moment. He turned a few feet beyond them, walking backward and grinning at her. Pendajo. As she fumbled out a card, an idea popped into her brain. A way out of this.
She held the card out and let her gaze drift over the doctor’s shoulder. She looked back at him and smiled. “It certainly was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Perez. Now, if you all will excuse me, I’d like to speak to Ava’s art therapist.”
She ran for it this time. Didn’t even look back to see her aunt’s face. She reached an intersecting hall and glanced in both directions. There he was. “Matt,” she called out.
He stopped and looked back, surprise clear on his face. “You need a place to hide?”
“Shut up,” she said as she approached him.
He leaned a shoulder against the wall and grinned at her. “That looked like an ambush to me.”
“That was an ambush. But I wanted to ask about Ava.”
The smirk grin faded a bit. “Ask,” he said.
“Is she okay? Did you learn anything from working with her that will help us help her?”
He straightened. His smile was different this time. Warm and sincere. “Yes. I asked her to draw the hospital room. Having kids draw their environment is a good way to get a glimpse into their feelings.”
“And what did Ava show you?”
“Well. She drew the bed very small and the windows very large. Which can mean she feels overwhelmed by being here and she wants to escape. But she also drew herself smiling and surrounded by her parents and family. Which means that she feels safe and loved. I think she’s going to be just fine.”
Lena nodded. “Did you talk to her mother about this?”
“Yep. You’ve got a nice family, Ms. Reyes. I’m glad I got to help them out.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled up at him. A moment. This was a real moment. Then his smile twisted back to that little sideways grin and the glint came back into his eyes. “If only I could have helped you out with that scene in the hall. If you’d drawn that for me, my assessment would be that you were being set up.”
And moment over. She gave him her most vicious glare and arched an eyebrow. “Why? Were you jealous?” Venom still dripping from the words, she turned and stomped down the hallway, putting a little extra swish in it just to give him a show.
His laughter followed her. “You are surely something, Ms. Reyes.”
Humph. Just how much of something, you’ll never know. She turned the corner and flipped her hand dismissively in his general direction.
* * *
MATT WATCHED HER sashay down the hall. Because she wanted him to watch. Still smiling, he shook his head and entered the playroom. She was something. Hot. Cold. Smart. Sexy. Let it go, dude. A woman like that isn’t to be trifled with. And he had too much on his plate right now to take on the likes of Ms. Reyes.
As he set up the table where he’d lead a session with several of his regular kids, his mind drifted back. Not to Lena, but the entire family. They’d shown up in force. Ava was never alone for a moment. When he was five, his nanny had taken him to the hospital when he’d had his tonsils out. When he developed a complication and had to stay overnight, she left at 6:00 p.m. The maid was supposed to stay with him, but never showed up. His parents were in London. He’d been terrified. And after that, he’d spent several scary nights alone in the hospital with asthma attacks.
Shake it off, man. But he wondered. What would it be like to come from such a family, full of loud laughter and love? And how did that family forge someone as guarded as Lena?
“Mr. Matt! Mr. Matt!”
He turned toward the voice with a smile. Clarissa. Dr. Rutledge’s granddaughter. With her was a tall woman, whose red hair matched the wisps of hair still clinging to Clarissa’s little head. She was being dragged by the hand across the playroom.
“Hey there, pretty girl. You seem mighty perky today. And you’re the first to arrive, which means you get to be my assistant.”
He shifted his attention to the woman beside Clarissa. He held out a hand. “Matt. Are you Clarissa’s mother?”
The woman laughed. “No. Although you aren’t the first to make that guess.”
“This is my aunt Logan, Matt. She’s visiting me and I wanted to show her the playroom.” Clarissa looked up at Logan. “I told you he was cute!”
Logan blushed and Matt felt a little heat on his own face. Here he’d been teasing Lena about an ambush setup and now he was the victim of one. “Logan,” he said. “Might you be the daughter who was asked to leave several deportment classes?”
Her laugh echoed through the playroom. “Indeed I am. How did that conversation ever come up?”
“I think it was my confession to having been in a similar situation.”
Clarissa grabbed his hand. “What are we doing today, Mr. Matt?”
“We’re going to make Halloween decorations. So we are going to need construction paper, glue and scissors. Do you know where they are stored?”
“I do,” Clarissa said seriously. She turned to her aunt. “Promise me you won’t leave.”
“I promise.” They watched Clarissa open the supply cabinet. “I’m sorry about this. She just said she wanted to show me the playroom.”
“It’s okay. She’s a good kid. Has a lot of fight in her.”
“That she gets from me.”
There was something in her stance. The slight nuance of her voice. Matt grinned. “Baa, baa,” he said.
“Black sheep,” Logan returned with her own grin.
They did a fist bump. “May we ever run free,” he said. “Hang out awhile. No need for you to miss out on time with Clarissa while she’s doing this.”
She glanced at her watch. “I really need to go. Clarissa, come give me a hug and kiss. I have to go back to work.”
Clarissa wrapped her arms around Logan’s abdomen. “Will you bring me a dessert?”
“Tomorrow, Mini-Me,” Logan said as she kissed the top of Clarissa’s head.
Clarissa looked up at Matt. “Aunt Logan is a pastry chef. She makes the best desserts ever in the whole world.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You two should go on a date.”
“Clarissa! That’s not very polite,” Logan said.
“Why? You’re my favorite aunt. He’s my favorite hospital person.”
Matt held back laughter. He looked thoughtfully at the little girl. “Would it make you happy if we went on a date?”
“Yes.”
Matt pulled over a chair and sat down to be at eye level. “What if we go on the date and we just want to be friends instead of boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Clarissa shrugged. “I don’t care. I just think you should go on a date.”
“Okay then,” he said. “Go finish getting the supplies ready.”
As she skipped away, he turned to Logan. “So we’ll go on a date.” He made air quotes.
Logan smiled and held out a hand. “Deal. But just so you know, this really isn’t a date.”
“I understand. But I’m new in town. A little short on friends. We’ll talk about the lives of black sheep and Clarissa will feel like she did something good for us.”
Logan looked back to where Clarissa was rummaging through the supply cabinet. Her eyes filled with sadness. “I just want her to have a date of her own someday.”
“She will. She’s a fighter. Like her favorite aunt.”
Logan laughed. “I’m her only aunt. Give me your number and we’ll arrange a time for this date.”
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_45da31cf-2fbb-54c0-996e-0b43292e20da)
“A LITTLE FARTHER off our beaten path,” Lena said as she slid into the booth at The Glass Onion. She and Sadie usually met in the Avondale area for their weekly Wednesday-night dinners.
“I was craving shrimp and grits.”
“They serve wine here?”
“Yes. So, you seem to be in a better mood than last week. Did your family let you off the hook after the what-was-his-name fiasco?”
“No. I have another date on Saturday. This time with a doctor that my aunt Paula set me up with.” She smiled. A pretty, vacuous smile. “I’m just going to spend the entire night making this face.”
They gave the waitress their order. Two shrimp and grits and a bottle of chardonnay. Sadie leaned back in the booth and looked at her.
“What?”
“I just feel like this is my fault.”
Lena shook her head. “No, it isn’t.”
“But it is, Lena.” Sadie leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table. “Do I need to get some shots and make you sister swear?”
Lena looked down at the table and spun her napkin wrapped silverware in a circle. Thing was, Sadie was right. But she wasn’t going to be the one to rain on her wedding. Sadie’s hand covered hers.
“Lena.”
“Okay. Yes. No. It’s complicated.”
Sadie laughed, drawing the eyes of a couple of men sitting nearby. “I’d expect no less from you than complicated. Look. I’ve got some conflicted feelings about this too. You were always the one who wanted to find the guy and get married. Have kids and all that junk. Not me.”
“Yet, here you are, deliriously happy. Wedding planning. Instant family.”
“Yes. And I feel guilty about it sometimes.”
Lena frowned and leaned forward to take both Sadie’s hands in hers. “Look at me, Sades.” When Sadie’s dark blue eyes met hers, she squeezed her hands. “Don’t do that. Never. I am beyond happy for you. You are more than my best friend. You’re my sister.”
A weak smile trembled on Sadie’s lips. “But still. I just fell into this and now your family is driving you crazy.”
“And that’s my problem. Not yours. Your problem is that my mother is trying to hijack your wedding plans.”
Sadie sat back with a groan. “That’s the truth. Have you seen her Pinterest board? It’s like Catholic tradition met upscale elegance and had a country-kitsch baby. It’s a horror show.”
“Can you imagine how she’s going to be if I get married?”
“When you get married. Tell me about this date.”
Their wine arrived and Lena poured a healthy glassful. “I don’t know. He’s a doctor. Cuban by the accent, I think. Sort of cute. Seemed embarrassed that Paula ambushed us both.”
“Are you going to be nice? Not rip his throat out in the first five minutes like you did with poor what’s-his-name?”
Taking a long sip of wine, Lena arched an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she said.
But Sadie didn’t laugh. A small frown crossed her features. “Come on. Sister, truth—you can be very intimidating. And sometimes you use it like a weapon. Especially with men.”
“Men piss me off more than anyone else.”
She meant it to come out snarky, but even she couldn’t deny the undercurrent of anger in her words. She didn’t know why it was true. But it was. If it wasn’t some white dude trying to satisfy a Latina fetish, it was some jerk trying to assert dominance.
“Because you let them do that, Lena. You jump on anything. One misspoken word. One perceived insult and you come out swinging.”
“Now you’re being irritating.”
“I don’t care,” Sadie said, pouring more wine into her glass. “You told me a lot of things I didn’t want to hear. Your turn.”
“So what do you want me to do? Be nice when some guy asks me if it’s true that Latina women are hot in bed?”
“No. That guy you can eviscerate. But yeah, be nice. Give a guy a chance to prove himself.”
Lena looked up gratefully as the waitress brought their food. “Thank you,” she said. Unrolling her silverware, she concentrated on the shrimp and grits. Okay. Mean. Not the first time I’ve heard that. I’m not mean. I just don’t play games. She sighed and dropped her spoon to the plate. “I’m mean.”
“No. You can be. But you aren’t mean. Not the real you. It’s just a wall you put up. See who’s brave enough to scale it.”
“I’m a bitch.”
“A strong, independent woman who has overcome obstacles that would have crippled most men. Successful. Beautiful. Savvy.”
“I’m a mean bitch.”
“Lena. Stop it. Listen to me. You are not a mean bitch. You just play one on dates.”
That made her smile. It hurt to look at it, but it was true. She had left a long trail of bleeding men behind her. She ate a few more bites of shrimp. Thinking back, most of them hadn’t been bad guys but she always managed to find something wrong with them. Maybe it is me. Maybe I make up reasons to push them away. More like send them running away.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Sadie said. “Just like there was nothing wrong with me. You just haven’t met your guy yet.”
Lena shook her head. “No. That’s not it. I don’t think I can do the serious relationship thing. I’m too much of a control freak. I have to be in charge. But then I don’t like a man who lets me be in charge. And then I get furious when a man tries to be in charge. See?”
“That’s because being in charge isn’t part of a healthy relationship, Lena. Being equal partners is.”
Snagging her wineglass and leaning back in her seat, Lena mulled over those words. Equal partners. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I think I have a trust problem.”
“Trust as in ‘depend on’?” Sadie asked.
“No. Trust in myself.”
She leaned forward, resting her forearms along the table. The moment was so alive in her memory that she could still feel the sting of his palm across her cheek. The shame was still so great that she’d never told anyone except her mother. Not even Sadie.
Sadie leaned in closer. “Tell me.”
“I was in love. Head over heels, down the rabbit hole, don’t care about anything anyone says, this is my soulmate in love. Until he slapped me. Because I wasn’t ready to sleep with him.”
The slap had been completely unexpected. So out of character. It had taken her breath away. That moment and the rapid shift from shock to disbelief to heartbreak may have only lasted a few seconds in real time. But its legacy lived on in her behavior.
“That’s what it is?” Sadie asked softly. “That’s your trigger?”
She looked up into Sadie’s eyes. “I think so. I know that was the moment when I realized I couldn’t truly count on anyone except myself. When I got serious about school and college and getting myself and my family out of the constant fear and uncertainty of poverty.”
“And now that you’ve accomplished that goal, that incident has changed from being an incentive to being a hindrance?”
Lena brought her hands up and pressed her fingers against her lips. That was it. That single-minded drive that allowed her to ignore naysayers and overcome every obstacle had nothing to do now that she’d reached her goal and was in a place of safety. Sadie’s completely right.
“How do I change it though?”
“First step is realizing it,” Sadie replied. “I’m no expert, but I think the next step is recognizing when your feelings are coming from that trigger.”
“Oh. Easy.” Lena snapped her fingers. “Okay. Done. Next.”
Sadie took a sip of wine and raised her eyebrows. “See? That? That was the trigger. You realized you have emotional work to do so you went straight to sarcasm and being flippant.”
She wanted to be angry. It was right there, brimming at the back of her throat but she pushed it down. How did Sadie do it? She was right. Again. She picked up her fork and began pushing grits around on the plate. “I’m tired of this, Sadie. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You’ve already begun. You’re tired because you’ve just realized the weight of this trigger you’ve been carrying for all these years.”
“But what’s next?”
Sadie shrugged. “For me, it was like I saw a truth about myself, and then I couldn’t unsee it. Does that make sense?”
“No.”
Sadie pressed her lips together and stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Lena. “Like when I went to Asheville with Wyatt to meet his sister’s friend, the one who was willing to take Jules if Wyatt couldn’t. She and her family are like a second family to Jules. I was feeling scared and threatened. Before I faced my abandonment issue, I would have done or said something to alienate her, to push her away before she could reject me. Now I know that it was normal and okay to feel nervous about meeting someone new and that they might actually like me.”
Lena nodded. “I understand that. But I don’t know. Maybe I should cancel my date with the doctor. He might be a nice guy. Maybe I shouldn’t date until I figure all this out.”
“I think you should keep the date. Like a test run for when you meet a guy you really like.”
“Test run. How romantic. I don’t know. Just thinking about being set up like this makes me mad.”
“Raise your right hand,” Sadie ordered.
“What? No. We are in public.”
“Levanta tu mano derecho.”
“Jesucristo, your Spanish sucks. How can you be so bad at it after all these years?”
“Your hand’s still on the table.”
She lifted her hand. “Okay. Fine. My hand is in the air.”
“Repeat after me—I will not be mean on my date with the doctor.”
“I will not be mean on my date with the doctor.”
“See? Easy.”
“Unless he deserves it.”
* * *
SATURDAY MORNING, MATT Cruised the bike along Rutledge Avenue, Colonial Lake providing a small breeze across its concrete hemmed water. He stood on the bike pedals, powering across Broad Street to the quiet and shady streets of the promised land of Charleston real estate: South of Broad. Taking a long, lazy left, he slowed as he made his way up Tradd Street, not exactly sure which of the multimillion-dollar, perfectly restored antebellum mansions belonged to Dr. Rutledge. That he’d just pedaled up a street named for the doctor’s family reminded him that while Eliot’s patronage was welcome if only to help the nonprofit become a reality sooner, it placed him squarely in the middle of that upper-class society that he’d run away from before.
The flash of a white BMW door and a swing of black hair ahead caught his eye. His heart jumped a few more notches and a shiver of pleasure danced along his nerves, twisting his lips into a smile. Well, well, well. Ms. Magdalena Reyes. Had Eliot gotten her involved in the project? He sat up, coasting past the last few lawns, watching her as she smoothed down the brick red skirt she wore. A casual print T-shirt topped the skirt. A thick black belt at her waist accentuated her curves. She leaned in, checking her reflection in the window. A small smile crossed her lips. Why not? She was drop-dead gorgeous and she knew it.
He made a quick turn up the sidewalk at the neighbor’s driveway and braked on the sidewalk by her car. Pulling off his sunglasses, he smiled at her. “Ms. Reyes. Imagine meeting you here.” He laughed as a scowl replaced her self-satisfied little smile.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/janet-nye-lee/boss-meets-her-match/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.