If I Were You (Inside Out #1)(16)

“From Mark’s personal collection,” Amanda informs me, clearly noting the way I’m gaping. “He has a piece in every office.”

I jerk my attention in her direction to find her leaning on the doorframe. “His personal collection?”

She gives a nod. “His family owns a number of art galleries and an auction house in New York called ‘Riptide’,” she explains. “He changes out the pieces every few months from what I understand. We actually have customers who schedule appointments to see what he brings next.” Stunned at this news, I am again in a rare state of speechlessness at the mention of the most elite auction houses in existence, selling everything from celebrity property to fine art.

She laughs without humor, a hint of unease in its depths. “Everyone wants a piece of that man.”

I tilt my head to study her, noting the emphasis on everyone. “You included, Amanda?”

With a wave of her hand she dismisses that idea. “I am so beneath him and most of the customers who come in here.”

Her insecurity washes over me, stirring old feelings I don’t like but I can identify with. “That’s not true. You are not beneath him, or anyone, for that matter.”

“I appreciate that but after this summer, I’ve decided that geology and dig sites are where I belong. A little dust and sun will do me better than champagne and fine art.”

“Don’t make that decision because you feel beneath Mark.”

Her expression turns solemn. “I’m not. I…” She seems to consider her words, and decides against them, instead motioning over her shoulder. “Why don’t I show you the break room. I need to get some coffee started and there’s some paperwork for you to fill out. I can explain while I make it.”

A few minutes later, Amanda has shown me the exact measure of coffee that Mark wants used if I’m ever the first one to arrive, and I’m sitting at a small wooden table across from her as she fills two ceramic cups. No Styrofoam like in the teacher’s lounge for this place.

“How long has Rebecca been gone?” I ask.

Amanda sits down across from me. “Well,” she ponders thoughtfully, pouring sugar into her coffee, as I opt for straight powder creamer. “I started two months ago and she was already gone, so at least that long.”

“She must have something pretty serious going on.”

“No one has ever said, at least not to me, and I’m just glad Mark looked at the summer schedule and decided to hire.” She slides a piece of paper my direction. “That’s the summer schedule.”

I glance over a calendar with growing excitement as I note weekly wine tastings, several exciting artists that will be visiting, and a number of private parties. This is the world I have longed to live in for, well, ever.

“It’s a busy schedule, right?” Amanda asked, seeking my agreement.

“Very, but that’s a good thing.”

“Not when Rebecca was at the helm of most of it and even knowing this Mark has interviewed at least fifteen people and hired no one until you. Thank goodness you did whatever you did to win him over because I’ve been helping and I’m way over my head.”

Whatever I did to win him over, I repeat in my mind. I did nothing and he hired me without so much as a question. Why? Because I asked about Rebecca? Because I pretended to know her. Oh crap. I told Mark that I had a sister. This is why I hate lies. They always come back to haunt you. My heart begins to thunder in my chest at the idea of being cornered and busted in this one. I’m still contemplating how to best make this right, what my story will be, when Amanda slides a folder across the table.

“This is the new hire paperwork and some test Mark said you need to take.”

“Test?”

“Yes. Test. Do you have a problem with that Ms. McMillan?”

Mark’s voice, dark and commanding, draws my gaze, and I barely stop myself from sucking in a breath at just how striking my new boss really is. He is wearing a light gray suit that enhances the unique silvery quality of his eyes that are more pale blue than gray as I had first thought. His features are finely carved, his bottom lip full, his jaw strong. He is tall, and athletic, his blonde hair neatly styled. He is…beautiful.

“I’m a school teacher, Mr. Compton,” I finally manage to say. “I love a good test. I’m simply curious as to what kind of testing?”

“We’ll start with basics and I’ll decide where we go from there,” he says, cutting a quick look at Amanda. “I’ll finish up the paperwork with Ms. McMillan, Amanda.” He is curt, authoritative. Intimidating. Intimidatingly sexy.

“Oh yes,” she says, popping to her feet like a jack-in-the-box who’s just had her handle cranked. She wasn’t kidding about being intimidated by the man, and with him present, I am not without understanding of how she feels.

“Coffee is ready, by the way,” she announces to him, and I can feel her angst, her plea for his approval that she doesn’t get. She grabs her cup and heads toward him and he steps aside to allow her to exit, but his eyes are locked on me, impassive, unreadable. That insecure part of me that Michael played on flares its ugly head inside me, that part of me so like Amanda. Heat lashes through my veins and I will it away. I could so easily want to please this man and it terrifies me that I still have that in me.