Take Two: An Erotic Romance (Book 1) (3 page)

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said, giving her a small shove. “Uncle Andy
didn’t leave me his boat. I think he put it away years ago, it’s probably a
bucket of rust now. Besides, there’s nobody else I want to go out on the lake
with.”

“What about that last guy? Terry? Or was it Jim?”

“Brad?” I corrected her. “He was… just not the right person.”

“He was cute,” Sharon encouraged. “And he had a great job.”

“He just… he just wasn’t the right fit,” I sighed. “He was nice
and sweet and everything, but I just felt like something was missing – that
sparkle that you’re supposed to feel when you’re in love. There was never any
overpowering, animal need for Brad. Or Jim… or any of them. I don’t think I’m
meant to be together with a guy. It just never feels right.”

“It will,” Sharon said wisely. “When you meet the right person. I
don’t necessarily feel any animal desire for Ryan after five years together.
But I know he’s the right person for me, because going home always seems a
little bit better when I know he’s there waiting for me. You’ll find it too.”

“Maybe,” I said, non-committal.

“You will,” Sharon repeated. “You’re gorgeous and smart and
possibly filthy rich. On that note, will you please kill the suspense and tell
me what happened at the will reading?”

“It’s a little complicated,” I admitted. “Uncle Andy wants me to
take over his hedge fund investments, but I have to be trained to manage them.”

“Huh?” Sharon said. “Trained? Who’s going to train you?”

“An old family friend,” I said, quashing the strange feelings
which rose up in my stomach when I thought about Mathis. “Someone who worked
with Uncle Andy.”

“Is he young? Is he rich?”

“I don’t know,” I said, unwilling to go into details while my
feelings about Mathis were so muddled. “If he worked with Uncle Andy, I guess
he’s a hedge fund type too. I haven’t seen him for a long time.”

“It’s strange,” Sharon said, losing interest in Mathis almost
immediately. “I wonder why your uncle gave you such a big responsibility. I
guess he really thought a lot of you.”

“I guess,” I said. “Whenever I stayed with him, he always talked
to me about how he had become successful. ‘Never let anything break your
spirit, Amanda,’ he’d say, ‘pursue your dreams and don’t let your past or your
present get in the way of your future’.”

“He sounds like a wise man,” Sharon said with a sympathetic smile.

“He was,” I agreed.

He’d always been a great mentor. I remembered how he had taken
Mathis under his wing, even more so than me. I felt like every time he’d say
something to me, like ‘follow your dreams’, he was thinking about Mathis, who
had risen from a poor background to train as a hedge fund investor under my
uncle. By now I was sure he was incredibly successful, much more so than me.

Now that I had to see him again – would he even remember the girl
he used to spend time with? Would he be the same person as the young man Uncle
Andy introduced to me? Would he still feel the same way about me as… but that
was stupid. We were different people, and besides, I don’t know how he really
felt about me. Not after the way he left.

“Hey – what are you thinking?” I snapped out of my reverie as
Sharon waved her hand in front of my face. “You completely zoned out.”

“Just nervous about this tutoring, I guess,” I said.

“When do you have to start?” Sharon asked.

“The lawyer is going to call me – the family friend – Mathis –
wasn’t at the will reading, so the lawyer’s going to get in contact and arrange
a meeting. Probably sometime next week.”

“You’ll be amazing,” Sharon said confidently. “You’re an
accountant. You won’t have any issue with a few measly investments.”

“Yep,” I said with forced brightness. “No problems at all.”

Once again, I was wearing my smartest clothes and waiting in the
lobby of an incredibly sleek, enormous building which made me feel like a mouse
in the Cheesecake Factory – tiny, out of place and a little bit envious. My awe
was starting to melt into irritation, though, as the clock slowly created
distance between the time of my appointment and the time I wanted to be out of
the office and taking a long, hot shower back at my apartment.

The suspense of meeting Mathis again had been bad enough even
before I had entered the office. Now that I was sitting here, I was painfully
on edge. Ever since I had been told that Mathis was going to be the person
doing my training, I had been remembering the time we spent together in the
past. His ready smile, his sense of humor and his seemingly inherent ability to
do everything well, even if he had never tried it before, all stood out to me.

A part of me even wondered if Mathis even felt the same way about
me – if he ever thought about me or remembered the time we had spent together.
The time where it had seemed as though he cared about me.

The more I thought about it as I sat in this lavish, richly
furnished lobby, though, the more doubtful it seemed. Here I was, a girl who
worked in a cubicle and washed my hair with the shampoo my best friend saved
for me every time she organized a wedding at a fancy hotel. I was wearing pants
from the sale section of Target, and Mathis was a successful multi-millionaire
who had risen from nothing. He probably got someone else to shampoo his hair
for him. He probably had someone who made his own shampoo.

It was ridiculous to even think about the possibility that he
remembered me. Certainly after the way our friendship had ended. It was time to
stop thinking about silly things and be a grown up. That is, if Mathis ever
actually arrived.

I took out my phone and rechecked the message for the fourth time
in twenty minutes to reassure myself I’d got the right time and place – yep,
4pm, the Magnus Building, Mathis
Côté’s office on the 30
^th
floor. Except that it was now 4:35 and I was still cooling my heels in the
lobby.

The message had been cold and impersonal, exactly like a business
memo –
meet at 4pm re. investment training, don’t be late.
Don’t be
late, ha! I had been fifteen minutes early and I’d been waiting almost an hour.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee, Ma’am?” the little mousy-haired
secretary asked me again, looking extremely apologetic for her boss’s bad
behavior.

“No thanks,” I smiled at her.

“I can place a call through to Mr Côté’s cell if you’d like?” she
offered.

“It’s fine,” I insisted. “I’m sure he’s a busy man.”

“Speak of the devil,” a deep, mellow voice said behind us. We both
turned around. My face showed surprise while the secretary seemed to give a
knowing nod.

It was Mathis. There was no doubt about that. He still had that
imposing presence which made everyone in the room turn to face him. Well over
six foot, his broad, athletic build was still as lithe and elegant as ever. His
tanned skin was complemented by his crisp white shirt, not starched and boring
like the men at the lawyer’s office, but commanding and stylish, the top button
undone and his tie – if he had been wearing one – nowhere to be seen, exposing
his tan, muscular neck and just a hint of collarbone. His light brown hair was
perfectly windswept. He was exactly as I remembered him, except for two small
details.

“Sorry to burst in like this,” Mathis said, his arms around the
two small details - two leggy, gorgeous, and underdressed women in skyscraper
heels with enough makeup between them to paint the walls of the lobby. “I
wasn’t expecting company.”

“Sir, Miss Taylor is your 4 o’clock,” the mousy secretary said in
a professional tone. She seemed unfazed by his entrance.

“Miss Taylor?” Mathis made a show of looking around the room, his
eyes finally falling on me. “Ah yes, my after-hours assignment.” The two women
on his arms snickered, and I blushed at the double-entendre.

Although he looked the same, his manner was nothing like I
remembered. For one thing, I had never so much as seen him look at a woman
before. Not that I was surprised – he was undoubtedly attractive, and he
obviously had enough wealth to support a whole harem of women if he felt like
it. Still, something about his behavior bothered me. He had always been so
courteous to me in the past, treating me with respect and kindness. This
playboy who was openly mocking me, seemingly oblivious to his rudeness, was a
total stranger.

“Well, it looks like Miss Taylor has been waiting some time,” Mathis
sighed, looking from one tittering showgirl to the other. “Why don’t you ladies
spend a little time enjoying yourselves? Here,” he handed the blonder of the
two a credit card. “Pick out a few outfits. I’m sure you have room in your
wardrobes for one or two more dresses, hmm?”

“But Matty, what about dinner?” the blonder bimbo purred. A
flicker of irritation seemed to pass over Mathis’ face, but an instant later it
was gone.

“I’ll catch up to you later, Kathryn,” Mathis promised with a wide
smile. “You just concentrate on finding something suitable to wear.”

The two women clattered off in their heels, sweeping from the
lobby like models leaving the runway.

“Now,” Mathis said, his face expressionless now his arm candy had
left the building. “Miss Taylor, why don’t we go into my office and get to
business.”

It wasn’t a question, and I followed behind him as he strode
across the lobby towards a broad mahogany door.

“Excuse the mess,” he said carelessly as he opened the door for
me.

It was really difficult not to gasp. Two of the walls were sheer
glass, offering a splendid view of the city, the tall buildings and the
sparkling water; magnificent and for our eyes only. The room itself was
decadently furnished with glossy wood and stylish modern couches just big
enough for one, a little too small for two, unless you wanted to get cozy. It
made me feel small and insignificant, but it was breathtaking.

He sat down on one of the little couches, gesturing at me to sit
opposite him. All that separated us was a small coffee table, and for a moment,
I felt like we were sitting on Uncle Andy’s porch, trading stories and eating
sugar snap peas, laughing together about the events of the day. It was on the
tip of my tongue to ask him whether he remembered that time, or any of those
times we had spent together as teenagers, but just as I opened my mouth, he
leant forward and opened up a laptop, ignoring me entirely.

“So, Miss Taylor, I assume you’ve been properly briefed about this
business?” Mathis asked briskly. I frowned at his continued use of my last
name; in front of other people perhaps that was proper business etiquette or
something, but now it was just the two of us.

“Call me Amanda, please,” I said. “It’s not as if we’re
strangers.”

“Amanda, then,” Mathis said, and it seemed like he hesitated for a
moment as the name slipped past his lips. “Do you know anything about
investments?”

“Mathis – you
know
I don’t – no more than Uncle Andy taught
me, at least, and you were there for most of that,” I said.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Mathis said simply, and I felt my heart
sinking. Stupidly, I felt as if I could cry. I wasn’t exactly celebrating the
fact that my uncle was dead, but inheriting something from a loved one should
be a good thing, not a chore. So far everyone involved had made me feel like a
silly little girl. I had thought that Mathis would be different. My heart felt
like a stone as I realized that my schoolgirl hopes of rekindling our
friendship were obviously a figment of my imagination.

“I take it you are familiar with the basics?” Mathis asked, his
entire manner expecting me to shake my head.

“I’m an accountant,” I told him, tilting my chin up proudly. “I
think I know at least the basics of how an investment works.”