Elizabeth Bevarly - Married to His Business / Six-Month Mistress - Married to His Business

Unbelievable, Kendall thought. Evidently, Matthias was that crass, after all. If not in blatantly joining them, then certainly in doing his best to destroy any chance the two of them might have for speaking freely about her new obligations as vice president. There was no way Stephen would discuss the policies of his company in the presence of one of his competitors, even superficially. He confirmed that by shrugging philosophically when Kendall looked at him—not that she needed any confirmation.

So instead of talking about her new job over the course of dinner, Kendall and Stephen instead discussed superficialities like the weather, books, current events and a favorite TV show they had in common…with Matthias throwing in his own commentaries here and there, completely uninvited.

It was going to be a long orientation.

Four

The temp Matthias ordered from a Tahoe City agency—once he found the phone book after thirty minutes of looking for it—arrived promptly at eight o’clock the morning after his arrival. Unfortunately, he’d done something wrong when he tried to set his alarm clock the night before—no, the alarm clock was defective, that was the problem—because it was the ringing of the front doorbell that alerted him to the arrival of his early-morning appointment. Not Kendall, who would have normally alerted Matthias to that. Kendall, too, would have been infinitely less intrusive about her reminder than the doorbell was.

Damn, he thought as he looked groggily at the clock and realized it had stopped working completely. He lifted his watch from the nightstand and grimaced when he saw the time. He never slept this late. And he’d never been unprepared for an appointment. Shoving off the covers, he jackknifed into a sitting position and scrubbed both hands briskly over his face to rouse himself. He grabbed a plain white T-shirt from the bag he hadn’t even begun to unpack, shook it out quickly and thrust it over his head as he descended the stairs. And he thought dryly how lucky he was that it matched his sweatpants so well, otherwise he might have to be embarrassed about his attire. It was only as he was reaching for the doorknob that he realized he’d forgotten to put on shoes, so would be greeting his temporary employee barefoot. Somehow, though, he couldn’t quite rouse the wherewithal to care.

The young man on the other side of the door looked surprised by Matthias’s sudden appearance—and, doubtless, by his slovenly appearance—but quickly schooled his features into indifference. He obviously hadn’t overslept, because he was well-groomed and dressed impeccably in a pale gray suit and white dress shirt, his necktie the only spot of color on his person—if you could consider pale yellow a color. He was young, early twenties at most, his blond hair cut short, his gray eyes nearly the same color as his suit. He looked to Matthias like something from a middle school poster advertising Junior Achievement.

“Mr. Barton?” he said.

Matthias ran a quick hand through his dark hair to tame it as best he could. “Yeah, that’s me,” he replied. Quickly, he amended, “I mean, yes. I’m Matthias Barton.”

“William Denton,” he said, extending his hand. “From DayTimers. I’m your new temp.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Matthias said, holding up a hand. “I haven’t hired you yet.”

This was clearly news to young William. “But they said you need an assistant for the month you’ll be spending here in Hunter’s Landing,” he said.

“I do need an assistant for the month,” Matthias told him. “But I’m not going to take any Tom, Dick or William they send my way. I need to make sure you have all the qualifications I need for an assistant.”

Young William smiled confidently. “No worries there, Mr. Barton. Temping is just my summer job. I earned my BS from the Haas School of Business at UC Berkeley in May, and I’ll be returning in the fall to start work on my MBA. I’m more than qualified to take on this position.”

Matthias’s back went up at the kid’s presumption. “Are you?” he asked coolly.

William Denton’s confidence seemed to waver a bit. Nevertheless, he replied, “Yes. I am.” As an afterthought, he added, “Sir.”

Matthias nodded, settling his hands on his hips in challenge. They’d just see about that. Without even inviting William Denton into the lodge, he barked, “What are the major managerial and organizational challenges posed by electronic commerce?”

William Denton blinked as if a too-bright flash had gone off right in front of his eyes. “I…what?”

Matthias shook his head, sighed with much gusto, and asked, “All right, if that one’s too tough, then how about this. True or false. In the simple Ricardian model, trade between similar economies is unlikely to generate large gains from that trade.”

William Denton’s lips parted in response to that one, but no words emerged to answer the question. Until, finally, he said, “I…what?”

Man, Matthias thought, this guy was never going to amount to anything if he couldn’t answer the most obvious question in the world. “All right, here’s an easy one,” he said. “Multiple choice. The current ratio and quick ratio are the best indicators of a company’s what? A. liquidity, B. efficiency, C. profitability or D. growth rate.”

William Denton’s mouth began to work over that one—kind of—but his brain didn’t seem to be cooperating.

Matthias shook his head in disappointment. “I’m sorry, Mr. Denton, but I just don’t think you have what it takes to—”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “I know the answer to that one!”

“Unfortunately, your time is up,” Matthias told him. “Tell DayTimers I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, he pushed the front door closed and turned away. From the other side, William Denton called out, “A! It’s A! Liquidity! Right? Am I right?”

He was right, Matthias thought. But it was too little, too late. The person he hired as his assistant was going to have to be a quick thinker and unafraid to speak up, in addition to being knowledgeable and savvy. Like Kendall. William Denton just didn’t have what it took to fill her shoes.

Oh, well. Another candidate lacking even the most rudimentary business skills. Another interview shot to hell. Matthias would just have to look for someone else.

Padding barefoot to the kitchen, he absently pushed the button on the coffeemaker, then went to retrieve the phone book from the same cabinet where he had discovered it the day before. Bypassing DayTimers this time—since, if William Denton was the best they could do, they were obviously a fly-by-night operation—he selected the next agency on the list. After arranging for a prospective temp to come to the lodge later in the day, Matthias turned to pour himself a cup of coffee—

Only to discover that the carafe on the hot pad was empty. In fact, the hot pad wasn’t even hot. He was sure he’d filled the machine with both water and coffee the night before, but lifted the top, anyway, to make sure. Yep. Coffee on one side. Water on the other. Just like the directions said. He checked to make sure the machine was plugged in. Yep. It was. He made sure the cord was attached to the coffeemaker, as well, ensured that the light switch on the wall nearest the appliance was switched to the on position, in case that was necessary, inspected everything he could possibly inspect to see what the problem was. To no avail. He pushed the on button again. Nothing.

Dammit.

Matthias wasn’t one of those pathetic caffeine addicts who couldn’t function without their crack-of-dawn coffee and suffered ugly mood swings when denied. No way. But, like any civilized human being, he liked to enjoy a cup or two in the morning, maybe three if he had time, possibly four or five, if he had a meeting or something, and, okay maybe another jolt or two or three in the afternoon when he needed it. He didn’t have to have coffee. He just wanted it. A lot.