Boss Meets Her Match Page 10

  He laughed. “Hey, Mose. Nope. Just Lena because it annoys her.”

  “Interesting hobby. Much like waving picnic baskets in front of grizzly bears.”

  “Grizzly bears are less dangerous, I think.”

  “Probably.”

  “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got your financial plan together. Can we schedule a time this week for you to come in and look it over? Sign some papers?”

  “I would be delighted.”

  Mose laughed again. “Honey boo-boo. Whatever is running through your little Y-chromosome brain regarding Ms. Reyes ain’t gonna happen.”

  He set a time and ended the call with a smile. Oh, he had all sorts of Y-chromosome thoughts running through his mind. Magdalena Reyes. Who was she when she was alone in her fancy condo? Stilettos off, hair in a messy ponytail?

  He glanced at his watch and signaled the waitress he was done. He had an art class to teach. One of those drink-wine-and-paint things. Not his favorite gig, but the money was good and essentially all he had to do was set up supplies, open wine bottles and make sure no one drove home drunk.

  He shot the bike across Rutledge Avenue and cruised along the backstreets to the small, trendy studio on Upper King Street. The area was in the middle stages of gentrification, and the studio, squeezed in between a Turkish restaurant and a pawnshop, was painted a bright, sunny yellow. Something he was sure would never be allowed farther down the peninsula, where the Board of Architectural Review micromanaged even the colors of the house paint.

  Just get through this class, he told himself. Tomorrow you get to hang out with the kids. And Wednesday, you get to see the delightfully maddening Ms. Reyes.

  * * *

  THURSDAY WAS GOING just fine. No financial crises. No hysterical clients. Quiet. Just Lena, her Bach violin concerto and the orderly progression of numbers. Exactly how she liked it. She treated Chloe and Mose to lunch delivered from her favorite deli. They ate in her office, shoes off, feet up as Lena described the fiasco of the Doctor date. Their laughter and eye rolling at the worst parts made her feel better about the whole thing. Maybe she wasn’t insane.

  After lunch, she settled into her afternoon routine without the little knot of guilt that had been lodged in her gut since the weekend. The private phone ringtone sounded and she muted the Pandora station. Hannah.

  “Hola, chica. Qué pasa?”

  “Hey. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. I emailed you the translated documents a little while ago. Some of the technical terms were a little hard so maybe have someone there go over it with whoever wrote it.”

  “Wow. That was fast. Thank you.”

  “No problem. I was happy to help. I remember those days of sitting out at St. T’s waiting on Poppa to get all the paperwork done for his citizenship. So boring.”

  “Yeah,” Lena said slowly, leaning back in her chair. “It was pretty bleak.”

  She ended the call but remained slumped back in the chair. She’d done her share of time out at the mission. She had a pediatrician but her mother had worked for that awful Marcus Canard and he kept everyone just under full time so he didn’t have to provide health insurance. And they certainly couldn’t afford private insurance. And in the years before her father became a citizen, her parents were so paranoid about doing anything to attract the attention of the government they wouldn’t apply for Medicaid for her mother.

  She’d spent many a day in the waiting room while her parents received health care and while the volunteers helped her father jump through the hoops of citizenship. It was an invaluable aid to the community, but it ran on a lean budget. The television may or may not have been picking up cable. The waiting room might have had a few threadbare magazines that made their way from the elementary schools. And honestly, most of them disappeared into the pockets of the parents who were struggling to learn English.

  Maybe she should do more. She sat forward and opened the email to send it to the printer. Shaking her head, she chided herself. No maybe about it, Lena. You need to do more for the mission. She could talk to Matt about that. Find out how much he would need per month to keep the room fully stocked. The church ladies could move on to another project on a whim. The money from them wouldn’t be forever. She could make forever happen.

  Gathering the papers from the printer, she sorted through them, realizing she’d printed both the original and the translation. Fascinated, she began reading the English version. It was a glimpse into the mind of a child. Symbols that crossed all barriers, social, racial, cultural. The size of windows. The size of the child in relation to other people. Cars, trees, flowers, sun, clouds. They all had meaning. She picked up the phone and dialed Matt’s number.

  And it went straight to voice mail. “Hey, Matt. It’s Lena Reyes. I just got the translations from my cousin. Didn’t know if you wanted me to email them to you or if you want me to bring a copy of them to Eliot’s house on Saturday. Let me know.”

  She felt a pang of disappointment as she ended the call. Irritation prickled along her nerves and she frowned at herself. What? Were you looking forward to dealing with a snotty frat boy? She pushed the thought away and powered up her laptop. She had to wade through all the legalese for transferring Will’s accounts to Scotland. The initial forms looked like a nightmare and she’d been tempted to dump it on Mose, who loved details the way Lena loved shoes. But she knew she would be too OCD about it and would end up hanging over Mose’s head, annoying her.

  After a few hours of figuring out the transfer, she was happy for the interruption of her ringing phone. Glancing down, she saw Matt’s name on the screen.

  “Hey. Thanks for calling back.”

  “Anything to hear your lovely voice, Ms. Reyes. I’ll save that voice message forever.”

  “Are you required to be a smart-ass at all times?”

  “I can’t help it. I was so overwhelmed with joy hearing your dulcet tones.”

  “Oh. So overwhelmed it took you three hours to call me back?”

  “I was working at the hospital. Trust me, the joy I felt at seeing your name was such that I almost left those poor children alone with their paints.”

  “You are so full of shit.”

  “But you are smiling and trying not to laugh. I can hear it in your voice.”

  Lena lifted a hand to her lips. Damn it. She was smiling. She cleared her throat and scowled. “When do you want these papers?”

  “Ah, there’s the Lena I know. Chewing nails and spitting tacks.”

  “I don’t even know what that means. Is there a big book of frat-boy clichés I know nothing about?”

  She found herself smiling again at his laughter. She forced her lips to behave. Trust-fund brat was starting to grow on her. Like a fungus.

  “If you’ve already printed copies, I’ll be there tomorrow to sign papers. Mose set it up. I can get it then. That way, Sister Agatha and I can go over the translation on Saturday.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  He laughed again. “You sound so disappointed. I can shoot over there now if you’d like. I don’t have to go pour wine for the poor dudes dragged to the drink-and-paint class for another couple of hours.”

  “How many jobs do you have?” She was taken off guard by his remark.

  “Three. Four if you count the freelancing.”

  “Wow.”

  “Is that a tone of real admiration I hear in your voice, Ms. Reyes?”

  As much as it pained her to say it, she had to. “I respect hustle.”

  “I’m full of hustle.”

  “Don’t make it dirty.”

  “Isn’t that what spoiled frat boys do?”

  “Are you coming today or tomorrow?”

  “I can come today.”

  “Hold on. Let me check with Mose.”

  She
walked to Mose’s office. “Hey. Are the papers on the Matthews account ready?”

  “Yeah, he’s coming in tomorrow. You need to wear your red dress. The one with the V-neck. And a nice bra.”

  Lena pressed her phone against her stomach and glared at Mose. She gestured at the phone. Mose slapped both hands over her mouth. Not out of regret or horror. But to hold in the laughter.

  She went back to her office, slamming the door behind her. Completely horrified, she lifted the phone to her ear. “Yes, the papers are ready.”

  “I can wait until tomorrow. If you need some wardrobe time. I prefer a pretty lace bra.”

  “Mention this again and I will fire Mose. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  “I suppose not. She could probably take me. But do tell me, Ms. Reyes, why would such a suggestion even occur to the lovely Mose? Dare I hope?”

  “No. You do not dare hope. When can you be here?”

  “Um. Thirty minutes. Unless I get run over.”

  After ending the call, she stomped to Mose’s office and dropped the manual pages on her desk. “Give these to Frat Boy when he shows up.”

  Mose rocked back in her chair, not showing even the slightest bit of shame. “You going to hide in your office then?”

  Lena crossed her arms against her chest and gave her best boss glare. “No. I will be in my office tending to business. You will explain to our client why you behaved in such an inappropriate manner.”

  “Trying to get you a man, boss. Way you’re stomping around here, you could use one.”

  “That’s right. I need a man. Not an overgrown kid coasting along until Granny’s money bag opens up.”

  The teasing grin left Mose’s face. She shook her head. “I think you got him pegged all wrong, Lena.”

  “I don’t want him pegged at all. Client. Make him money. That’s what we do.”

  She turned and almost ran into Chloe.

  “If you don’t want him,” Chloe asked, as she freshened her lipstick in the hallway mirror, “can I make a play?”

  “No,” Lena said. “You treat him the same way you treat Mr. Brightly.”

  Chloe made a face and Mose groaned from behind her desk. “The only way I treat that old goat is to stay out of hand’s reach.”

  “Exactly,” Lena said as she moved to her office doorway. “Keep yourself out of Mr. Matthews’s way.”

  She shut the door and turned up her music.

  * * *

  MATT WAS DISAPPOINTED as he coasted the bike up Dr. Rutledge’s driveway Saturday morning. No white BMW at the curb. No lovely Lena. He’d missed seeing her yesterday more than he’d thought. He hoped her retreat to her office was embarrassment over Mose’s teasing, not because she really couldn’t stand him. It was one of the many things that intrigued him. He couldn’t read her. He parked the bike and pulled off the helmet. Running his fingers through his hair to smooth it down, he heard a snort of laughter. A smile jumped to his lips as he turned.

  “Getting all pretty for Sister Agatha?” Lena asked.

  “The Society Sisters,” he shot back. “They’ve got the deep pockets.”

  She rolled her eyes. Damn. She was perfection on two legs. Her black hair fell thick and straight around her shoulders. The dark yellow dress she wore hinted at her luscious curves. But it was her eyes that captivated him. The darkest brown he’d ever seen and the most expressive. She could turn it off—he’d seen that in her office—but in unguarded moments her expression was in constant flux. Shifting, it seemed, with every thought. Like now. From smart-ass teasing to a dismissive flick of her eyebrows.

  “You’d know all about that,” she said.

  He waited as she walked up the driveway to join him. “Where’s the Beamer today?”

  “In its parking spot, I hope. You trimmed your beard.”

  He stroked his chin, secretly thrilled she’d noticed. “Yeah. Was getting a little biblical.”

  That earned him a smile. “Made me think of Vikings.”

  He stepped closer. “Do you think of me often, Ms. Reyes?”

  She turned away, shaking her head. “You are beyond vain.”

  Grabbing his backpack, he followed her up the sidewalk. Today was the last meeting before they went out to St. Toribio’s to set up the art room. He wondered how he’d get his Lena fixes once this was done.

  Everyone was waiting for them. Lena went straight to a chair and turned stormy eyes in his direction. He suppressed a grin and turned to charm the Society Sisters.

  “What do you think, Matt?” Dr. Rutledge asked. “Are we ready to go?”

  “Almost,” he said as he took a seat and opened the backpack. “Sister, these are the manuals in both English and Spanish. Thank you for that, Lena.”

  She lifted a hand. “My cousin did it. I scanned through it, but as I said, I’m essentially just verbally fluent.”

  “I’ll read through it,” Sister Agatha said.

  “Ladies.” Matt turned his super bad boy grin on the Society Sisters. He handed them a folder. “Your shopping list.”

  “Great. Thanks, Matt, for getting all this together,” Dr. Rutledge said. “And the call list?”

  Matt handed another folder to the doctor. “This is for the next two months. Still working on expanding this list.”

  “Good. Good. So, are we all going to be ready by next Saturday to meet down at the mission and make this a reality?”

  Everyone agreed. One of the Society Sisters raised a hand. “Matt, we had questions about some of the things on the list.”

  He kept his eye on Lena as he went over the list with the two ladies. She was deep in conversation with Sister Agatha. A quiet conversation. Lena looked hesitant and a little sad. An expression he would not have expected from her. She always seemed so self-confident. The nun said something that made Lena smile. Realizing that Lena was leaving, he hurriedly said his goodbyes.

  “Hey,” he called out as he hurried down the porch steps. “Lena. Hold up a minute.”

  She stopped on the sidewalk and waited for him to catch up. “I can’t believe he made us come out for this. All this could have been done with a couple of emails.”

  “I know. But the old ladies need a reason to leave their houses. Come have lunch with me.”

  She blinked at him. He found that his heart was beating just a tad faster. He hadn’t meant to ask her to lunch. He’d meant to ask her for a ride to the mission next week. But now that the words were out, he hoped she’d say yes.

  “You want to go to lunch?” she asked. Her tone was so completely neutral, he had no clue as to whether she was angry, amused, interested.

  He shrugged. “I’m hungry. It’s almost noon. Seems a fairly reasonable thing to do.”

  “Why do you want me to go with you?”

  “Honestly? You fascinate me.”

  One perfect black eyebrow arched. “I fascinate you? How do I fascinate you, Biff?”

  He pressed a hand against his heart. “Ow. Biff? That’s what I call my brother-in-law.”

  “Sorry, Brad.”

  “That’s what I call my other brother-in-law.”

  Her dark eyes were steady. Oh man. He’d stepped in something. “Okay,” he said, holding his hands up. “Poor word choice. I’d just like to get to know you better.”

  Some of the threat of bodily harm left her eyes. “And why is that?”

  “Because you are one of the very few people I’ve met here so far who doesn’t seem to have come out of the debutante cookie cutter, that’s why.”

  That earned him a smile. A wry, twist-of-the-lips smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Brown Dog Deli?”

  “Sounds perfect. Want to ride on my handlebars?”

  “Sure.”

  He felt his jaw drop. “Really
?”

  A rich, warm laugh bubbled out of her. “No. Not really.”

  She walked back with him as he retrieved his bike. “Come on. It’d be fun. When’s the last time you rode on handlebars?”

  “Never. And I’m not starting today.”

  * * *

  ONCE SETTLED IN the booth at the Brown Dog, Lena’s phone rang out with the opening bars of “The Imperial March.” Dismissing the call with a quick swipe, she looked up at Matt, who was fishing his phone out of his pocket.

  “My mother. Not in the mood for her right now,” she said.

  His laughter rang out in the small restaurant, drawing the attention of everyone there. “That’s my father’s ringtone.”

  “Doubt I’m in the mood for him either.”

  “Oh? And what are you in the mood for? Right now?”

  “Lunch.”

  That earned her a grin. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything.”

  “Hey, Ms. Reyes,” the waitress said as she approached the booth. “Weird seeing you in here on a weekend. The usual?”

  “Yes, Sally. Thanks.”

  Sally turned to Matt and the slow up-and-down look she gave him left no doubt as to her intention. “And for you, sir?”

  “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  “It’s a salad in case you’re really hungry.”

  “In that case, I’ll have the burger.”

  “So, why did you really invite me to lunch?” Lena asked once the waitress moved away.

  “I told you. You interest me.”

  “How?”

  “Well, let’s begin with how you are acting like it’s an insult when I say that. Most women would take it as an invitation to tell me their entire life story.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  “This is exactly what interests me.”

  Lena rolled her eyes and took a sip of water. She couldn’t figure him out either. Usually by now the Latina-fetish guys had tipped their hand. “Tell me about your family. Where did you move here from?”

  “Chevy Chase, Maryland. Land of old money and older people.”

  “Your family is quite rich, I take it.”