estate in the South of England that came with his title. Just as the earl of Suffolk had demonstrated time and again to his sons that he didn’t need them. Matt had come to America the first chance he got and made it on his own—totally on his own—leaving money, valuable social and business connections, and land behind.
But Abby didn’t have scratch.
He knew the type because Paula had been much like her—although somewhat older and with two sons—before she’d come to work for him. Paula used to buy groceries for a month at a time then squirrel them away, making the food last as long as possible. She paid her rent not a day early, keeping it in a savings account to capture those few extra pennies of interest. Nearly all of every paycheck was spent on bills and necessities. Paula had once confided in him that she had maxed out her credit cards months before he hired her.
The idea of Abby ever being able to scrape up enough cash from her old job to start a business was ludicrous.
There were thousands of single people like Paula and Abby—living on the edge but still cherishing their dreams of being out of debt, maybe even owning their own home someday. He didn’t think of himself as a philanthropist, but he liked to believe he was giving the men and women he hired a chance to turn their lives around. Some did. Others failed to take advantage of all he was offering them.
Which would it be for Abby?
Matt tossed two files into his briefcase, ordered his car to be brought around, then returned two important calls. As he strode through the reception area, Paula looked up from her desk.
“Your new gal-Friday called. You were on your line so I took the message. She said she’d be here around two o’clock.”
“Good. You’ll brief her as we discussed?”
Paula nodded, but gave him a strange look. “You won’t be here when she arrives?”
“I have no idea when I’ll be back from my appointments. You can do the honors.”
He hesitated before stepping into the hallway. “Thank you, Paula, for coming in on a Saturday. Will you still have some time to spend with your boys this weekend?”
She laughed at him. “Saturdays, young men have their own agendas. Or don’t you remember the other side of twenty? Tomorrow, though, they’ll take me out for brunch. We splurge on double-yolk omelets once a month.”
Matt smiled, glad to see her beaming with pride. Before too many years, the boys would be applying to colleges. He’d have to look into scholarship possibilities then, or maybe a private grant.
“Have fun tomorrow then. You can leave as soon as you’ve given Abby the lowdown. Tell her to wait for me. She can keep herself busy reading clients’ files until I get here.”
As Matt waited for the elevator, he thought again about Abby. Or maybe it was just a continuation of one long thought that had extended over nearly two days. He would probably be back in the office by five o’clock. By then he would have to come up with a safe method of relating to her. Last night, as he had drifted off to sleep, she had come to him. Those lovely limbs, mocha eyes, the tumble of red hair curling down over her shoulders…amazing.
Now he firmly assured himself that, once they buckled down to a regular work schedule, he would discover enough irritating things about her to shut down his rogue hormones. Then he’d have no more of those thoughts.
Abby was a little surprised that Wanda Evans, her boss at the Cup and Saucer, took her sudden resignation as calmly as she did. “Don’t you worry, dear, I have everything covered here. This sounds like a wonderful opportunity. Good luck.” And that was that.
Her arrival at Smythe International was unremarkable, too. She was met by Paula Shapiro, the woman she’d seen with Matt the day before. Paula introduced herself, with a twinkle in her eyes. “My official title is executive assistant. Plain old secretary would be fine by me. My real job is to keep the man from killing himself and the rest of us with work.”
Abby laughed a little nervously. “He does seem to like getting things done fast…and his own way.”
“Oh, he knows his own mind, that’s for sure. And there’s both heaven and hell to pay when he doesn’t get it. But let me tell you,” Paula whispered confidentially as she took Abby’s arm and guided her past two empty offices then into a quiet conference room, “the best way to handle the man is not to let him think you’re afraid of him. He knows enough not to mess with me, but he scared off his last four hostesses without even realizing he was doing it. Before that, one fell in love with him and, of course, that was the kiss of death as far as Matt is concerned. He keeps business strictly separate from his social life. And the one before that, she got herself engaged to one of his clients and flew off to Paris with him.”
Abby shook her head. This didn’t sound encouraging at all. “I’m curious…how long has each of his hostesses before me lasted?”
“The longest was a year. The shortest, two weeks. I’m hoping you’ll hang in with us a while.” Paula squeezed her arm and waved toward a seat at the long mahogany table piled with tabbed folders. “We could use some stability around here. It’s hard having to work with new people all the time.”
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