Matthew's Choice. Patricia Bradley
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mild but subtly complex cigar,” Winthrop said as he clipped the end off and handed Matt the cutter. “I think you will enjoy it.”
Matt swallowed and copied the older man’s actions, then waited as Winthrop lit his cigar. Oh, cool. A lighter with a double flame.
Winthrop rotated the cigar under the fire. “The secret, Matt, is to toast the end, not burn it.” He puffed on the fat roll of tobacco then blew on the end.
Once again, Matt copied Winthrop. On his third puff, queasiness rolled in his stomach, and he clamped his mouth shut. It was awfully hot in the room, and he adjusted his collar. What did Winthrop just say? “Sir? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Winthrop pointed to a pair of wingback chairs and a small table in the corner. “I asked if you’d like to sit.”
Thank goodness. After they were seated, a heavy silence surrounded them. Winthrop puffed his cigar while Matt rolled his in his fingers. “I guess you can tell I’m not much of a cigar connoisseur.”
“So I see.”
Matt cleared his throat. “Actually, sir, I’d like to talk with you about your daughter.”
Winthrop puffed his stogie once more. He blew the smoke toward the ceiling, and a series of small O’s floated above his head. “That’s why I brought you in here. How long have you been with the Winthrop Corporation, Matt?”
He blinked. “Seven years, sir. Right out of college.”
“If I remember correctly, you started on the front desk, and now you’re director of food and beverages. I understand you’ve gone after the J. Phillip Bradford account. You’re ambitious. I like that.” He fixed a hard stare on Matt. “I want that contract, even if we have to lose money on the Valentine’s Day banquet.”
Lose money? Matt adjusted his collar. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you know how many years I’ve tried to get Bradford’s accounts? Did you know he doesn’t always take the lowest bid? I know. I’ve had the lowest bid.” Winthrop rubbed his jaw with his thumb. “No, he weighs the services offered against the cost. Whoever comes up with what he’s looking for, wins. I’ve never been able to figure out exactly what he wants. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”
Great. Nothing like more pressure. “You can quit worrying, sir. I will get Bradford’s business, starting with the Valentine’s Day banquet.” He spoke the words with more conviction than he felt.
Winthrop stared at the end of his cigar. After a long minute he shifted his gaze back to Matt and seemed to measure him. Matt sat a little straighter and waited.
“Matthew, how do you feel about family?”
“Sir?”
“I’ve never heard you discuss your family. And naturally, as I watch this growing relationship you have with my daughter, I want to know a little more about you beyond your business side. Family is very important, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, the only family I have is my sister and her son.” What would Winthrop say if he knew Matt had never met the boy? Maybe after he closed the deal with J. Phillip Bradford, he’d take a day off and drive to Cedar Grove and look them up. “We haven’t been close in some time. She married and moved away.”
“Perhaps you could bring them to dinner some night.”
Matt’s palms sweated. Mariah had been stoned at his mother’s funeral, and he doubted she’d cleaned up her act. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Winthrop wafted O’s toward the ceiling again, then leveled his gaze at Matt. “Just so you know, my daughter is very precious to me. She’s my only child, and I’ll admit, more than a little spoiled. I even have in mind buying the house next door for her and her future husband.”
Matt swallowed. If Jessica agreed to marry him, he was not living next door to the Winthrops. Even if it was a mansion. But that discussion could wait until another night.
Her father stared at the white ash on the end of his cigar then stubbed the cigar in an ashtray. “Matthew, if you in any way hurt Jessica, I—”
“I can assure you, Mr. Winthrop, I will not hurt your daughter. With your blessing, and if she’ll have me, I want to marry her.”
* * *
ALLIE CAUGHT HER breath as Peter Elliott walked toward them, his light blue eyes fixed on her. He’d joked about them going out last week, but she hadn’t a clue he was serious. With his blond good looks, the broad-shouldered director of social services in Cedar Grove could date any number of women.
“You could’ve told me,” she muttered.
Clint laughed. “And have you say no?”
Not necessarily. But probably. Since the fiasco with Matt, she’d been reluctant to risk her heart again. Besides, she and Peter had been buddies since grade school, and she’d simply never thought of him in a romantic way. Maybe it was time to rethink their relationship.
Peter gave a slight bow when he reached them and took her hand. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself to your New Year’s Eve celebration.”
“Mind?” She shook her head. “Just a little surprised.”
Clint touched her arm. “I’m going to our table, over there in the corner.”
She followed his gaze to an empty table just below a huge TV that played images of New Year’s Eve celebrations from all over the world. Allie glanced around the room, counting ten TVs interspersed around the gold and silver streamers that hung from the ceiling.
“May I have this dance?” Peter said.
She hadn’t even heard the music and glanced toward the front of the room, where a string ensemble played “Moonlight Serenade.” Dancing seemed preferable to making small talk at the table. “As long as you don’t step on my toes, I’ll try not to step on yours.”
“I’m sure you won’t.” Peter held his hand out.
Allie wrinkled her nose at him. “You haven’t seen me dance.”
She accepted his hand and followed him to the dance floor, where he took her lightly in his arms. It never entered her mind that he might actually trample her feet. No, it would be the other way around. Peter Elliott came from old money in Cedar Grove, and his social graces were impeccable, as were his clothes. The black tux had high quality written all over it, and she’d bet he even tied his own bow tie. The memory of Matt holding his out to her brought a quick smile to her lips.
“Did I say something funny?”
An oops shivered down her spine, and she looked up into his questioning blue eyes.
“No...it was something that happened earlier tonight.”
Peter tightened his hold on her. “I’m sure Matthew Jefferies did any number of things that were amusing. I couldn’t believe it when your brother told me he and Jessica Winthrop were an item.” He leaned her back. “Weren’t you sweet on him once?”
“Once.” She almost stumbled, then concentrated on following Peter as he whirled her around. When the music ended, the ensemble slipped into a tango, and she shook her head at the invitation written on his face. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
She allowed Peter to lead her through the crowd to their table, where Clint sat alone. Hopefully, with this many people at the party, she’d be able to avoid Matt and his girlfriend. Correction, make that his almost-fiancée. At the table, Peter offered to get her something to drink.
“Lime water,” she said. After he left, she turned on her brother. “Just how did this date come about? And why didn’t you tell me?”
“Last question first—I can count on one hand the number of men you’ve dated since you and Matt broke up. I figured