Boss Meets Her Match. Janet Lee Nye
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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