by Nicki Elson
“I don’t know … Shep seems fairly old school. Not sure exciting is the best way to go.”
Hayden smiled. “Good instinct. And that’s exactly why Bell Funds is perfect. They’ve got the tradition and resources of their owner, the bank, but the investment team is really innovative, pushing their parent company’s rules as far as they can.” Lyssa knew from earlier conversations that her partner was familiar with the Boston-based company from working with them on behalf of his Taft-Hartley clients.
“Yeah, pushing them into mid-cap and even growth from time to time,” she countered.
Hayden’s eyes flickered, and Lyssa would almost swear he bounced in his seat. “Exactly. But all the while, they’re applying true value strategies that are leading to them to the atypical investments everyone else is missing. The reason they don’t stay as close to the value index as the others is because they’re taking chances and doing better than the plain vanilla.”
Lyssa couldn’t argue with the firm’s track record for the past three years; it was stellar compared to those of their peers, but she wasn’t sure that was a long enough period to impress the new client. She and Hayden would have to pinpoint exactly what it was that had led to the improved figures.
“And just wait until you see their offices,” Hayden continued. “I’m telling you, these guys are the Tarantinos of the investment world.”
Lyssa lowered a scrutinizing eyebrow and examined him, pursing her mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve heard of a bromance before, but I’m not sure what to call this crush on a whole investment firm.”
“Just wait.” An electronic ping sounded throughout the cabin as the seatbelt symbol illuminated. They were zeroing in on the seaside approach to Logan International.
* * *
An hour and a half later, Lyssa found herself rushing around her hotel room to finish blow drying her hair and shimmy into her skinny jeans and black, flared tunic—her most travel-friendly casualwear. She was already five minutes late to meet Hayden in the lobby. After the long day they’d had, she’d planned to order room service and watch TV in her room, but since they only had one night in Boston, Hayden had convinced her to take in some of the local flavor, literally, and at least go out for fresh seafood, a rare treat for the two Midwesterners.
Hayden had both surprised and impressed Lyssa on this trip. She’d already witnessed his rare combination of high intelligence and magnetic personality. In New York, she’d also seen signs that perhaps he was more sincere than she’d initially judged him to be. He’d scored several points by his show of confidence in her at Ardent’s offices, and she had to admit he wasn’t unpleasant to spend time with.
When she stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, she spotted him talking with a man behind the front desk. Her partner turned, and when his eyes landed on her, they opened a little wider and his lips spread into a grin. He nodded a thank you to the concierge and moved toward her. “Lookin’ good, Bates.”
A spontaneous smile flickered onto her face. It was her first time seeing him out of his power suit, and she liked the softer shade his pale gray oxford gave to his irises.
“I was just getting recs for decent restaurants within walking distance,” he said. “How does a cozy, little Italian place sound?”
“Cozy?”
“You know—small, darkish, lots of candlelight.” He leaned in and lowered his voice to practically a growl. “Intimate.” He was close enough that his warm breath brushed over her lips.
“I have a boyfriend.” The words were out before she could snatch them back.
Hayden let out a quick chuckle and straightened his posture, pulling away from her as a result. “And I’m not interested. I was only defining the word cozy. If you think your boyfriend would prefer for us to eat a Filet-O-Fish at a brightly-lit McDonalds, I’m sure we could find one.”
“No … yeah, that’s fine. The Italian place, I mean. I’m sorry, I misunderstood … but you did the droopy eye thing, and I thought … ”
He smirked, letting Lyssa know there was no need to expand on what she’d thought.
“Okay,” she said, determined to bring them back to where they’d been thirty seconds earlier. “We’ve firmly established that neither one of us is remotely interested in the other, so can we please go get some food now? I’m starving.”
They moved on to the restaurant, which turned out to be darling and just as snug and private as Hayden had conjectured. They sat at a high-backed booth with one small candle in a jar to light their way. After ordering their entrees, they’d agreed to put Project Pineapple talk aside for the rest of the night and delved into their respective work and college experiences instead. Lyssa had started as an entry-level data analyst at Fox & Keaton right after graduating from her Big Ten University. Hayden had made an alumni connection through his Notre Dame education and scored a job as an assistant to one of Chicago’s top stockbrokers as his first job, which is where he’d worked until joining the consulting firm.
“So what about graduate school?” Hayden asked. He’d already explained that he’d earned his MBA from Northwestern the previous year.
One side of Lyssa’s lip lifted in a mock snarl.
“What’s the face for?”
“I dunno, just kind of sucks—nothing’s ever enough, you know? I went to a decent business school, graduated magna cum laude, got a job with a respected consulting firm, performed well enough to get this assignment, and now I know all I’ll get is the pressure of what’s next?”
“So you want to remain a senior analyst forever?”
“No, but why can’t my job performance speak for itself? Why do I need another piece of paper to prove my worth? It’s not like a university teaches us anything that’s actually helpful in the real world, anyhow. Experience is the best education.” She watched him, expecting someone with his pedigree to defend the mountain of money he must’ve spent on tuition.
He sliced into his swordfish, taking a moment before answering. “I can’t totally disagree, but the background theory is important—”
“Which is why Beecher takes the time to reteach it in plain English as part of new employee training.”
“Not every company does, but setting aside that argument—you can’t deny that the letters MBA would look awesome after your name on a business card or a resume.”
Lyssa shook her head and laughed. “See? It’s nothing more than a golden ticket we’re all forced to buy.”
“Cynic.”
“I prefer realist.”
“Then accept the reality that in this industry, you need an MBA if you want to keep progressing.”
She scrunched her face as she speared a shrimp and twisted cream-covered fettuccini around it.
“Come on now,” he chided. “It’s not like you’re above playing the game.” When she quirked an eyebrow in question, he explained, “For the last week and a half, you’ve only called Beecher, Beecher.”
“So?”
“The first day we met, you called him Henry. You wanted to make it clear to the new guy that you had an established, first-name-basis relationship with the boss. It was a power move.” Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. “And I applaud you for it. It worked. Because of the name drop, I started out with a higher level of respect for you than I otherwise would have.”
Her expression relaxed into a chagrined smile. “I honestly didn’t even realize I’d done that.”
“Just shows you have natural instinct.”
The waitress approached, holding dessert menus and a carafe. “Would you like coffee while you look these over?”
They took the menus and said yes to coffee. When the waitress had walked away, Hayden asked, “So what does your boyfriend do? Is he in finance too?”
Lyssa took a warm sip and waved her head from side to side. “No. He’s a computer programmer, works in IT for a big healthcare firm.”
“Which one?” Hayden’s eyes moved down to the sm
all menu as he spoke.
“Metahealth Care.”
He nodded and squinted. “This lighting’s pretty dim. I’m having trouble seeing my choices—do you have that flashlight handy?” His handsome features stayed perfectly composed as he narrowed his eyes further and tilted his head to the side. “Can I borrow it for a sec?”
Lyssa stared at him, hard, and didn’t say a word. Flicking his eyes up, he held her gaze while the corners of his mouth twitched.
“Having fun?” Lyssa asked.
He shrugged. “Not as much as you apparently plan on having later. Is the programmer really so good that you can’t last one night without his simulated action? Or is it the opposite? Is he—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
He laid the menu on the table and held up both hands, palms toward her. His amused air was gone, and his expression seemed to be genuinely apologetic. “You’re right, I’m sorry. This is completely none of my business. It’s just, you know, not every day I get to see so deeply into a woman’s overnight bag. And I have to say it surprised me. I’m still trying to figure you out, Bates. But this aspect, I’ll leave alone.”
She sucked in one side of her cheek and began to gnaw before unclenching her teeth to say, “Does what happens in O’Hare…”
“Stay in O’Hare? Well … I suppose that depends.”
“On what?”
A sneaky smile crept back onto his face. “On how much influence you have with Sabine.”
“Sabine in human resources?”
He nodded. “That’s the goddess.”
Lyssa leaned back and tapped her fingertip on the edge of her saucer. “What do you need from her?”
“A date. I figure one will be enough to convince her of what she’s been missing.”
Of course. Sabine—with her rich, smooth skin, captivating, almond-shaped eyes, and the enticing curve of her plump lips. That’s the kind of girl Hayden would be interested in. Of course. Lyssa suddenly felt foolish for thinking for one brief moment he might have designs on her while a … what did he call her … goddess like Sabine was within reach.
“Why don’t you ask her out then?” Lyssa asked.
“No, no. I can’t approach her without a pretty strong reference. Not after what happened during my orientation interview.”
Lyssa smirked. “What happened?”
He moved his head from side to side. “You’re entitled to your secrets, and I’m entitled to mine. We can both keep them airtight if you’ll convince Sabine I’m a good guy.”
“I’m not sure I know her well enough to be able to do any convincing.”
“I know she goes out to lunch every few weeks with a group of women from corporate. You’re part of that group, yes? All it’ll take is one slip into the conversation of how perfectly gentlemanly I’ve been while working together on this project. I see the way she looks at me—she wants to give me a chance; it’ll just take a little encouragement from a peer she respects for her to give herself permission.”
“And what makes you so sure she respects me?”
“I’m Mr. Perceptive, remember?”
Lyssa blew out a sigh. “So she goes out on one date with you, and you don’t breathe a word to anyone about what you saw at the airport this morning? Even if the date goes terribly wrong?”
He extended a hand. “Deal?”
She reached across the table and slid her fingers over his palm to shake. “Deal.”
Chapter Four
“Told ya,” Hayden murmured into Lyssa’s ear as he followed her into the unoccupied conference room at Bell Funds.
It took effort for her to keep from gaping. Beyond the long, highly polished, ebony table in the middle of the room was a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass, showcasing the harbor and seaside city architecture, including the iconic Custom House Tower, Boston’s answer to Big Ben. She set her briefcase on the table and stepped up to the windows, looking straight down from the seventeenth floor at the elongated triangle of Post Office Square Park—a slice of green nestled between steel and stone.
When a deep voice behind her said, “Welcome!” she tore her eyes from the remarkable view to watch five men in suits file into the room. They greeted Hayden with warm handshakes and pats on the back, and in turn gave her friendly smiles and cordial handshakes when she walked over. Hayden made the introductions.
“What time did you get in yesterday?” the man introduced as Craig asked Hayden. “You should’ve called. I’d have taken you out.”
Hayden shook his head. “Nah, it was late and we were beat from hitting the pavement in New York all day, so we just grabbed a quick dinner and turned in.”
“So how are our friends Ardent and Smithson doing?” Len blew out a derisive laugh, and then his eyes slid over to Lyssa. “Now you get to meet a real investment firm.”
The portfolio managers were all older than Hayden but not by a lot. From their profiles, Lyssa had learned that Carlo Rocca, the director of the team, was only forty-six years old, and they ranged down to thirty-five from there. This put them a full decade and a half, on average, below the ages of either of the teams Lyssa and Hayden had met the day before. The other major difference was that there were no women in the group, a detail Lyssa planned to address during the meeting.
“At least let us treat you to breakfast,” Len said, gesturing toward a spread laid out on the gleaming table along the far wall. The variety of croissants, bagels, cream cheeses, lox, and jellies weren’t merely set on caterer’s plastic trays—they were displayed on genuine china and in crystal bowls, all tastefully arranged on multi-leveled, wrought iron servers. “If you’d prefer something else—eggs, waffles, whatever, let me know, and I’ll have someone run down to the corner café to get it for you.”
“I think this’ll do,” Lyssa said, eyeing her choices and appreciating Bell Funds’ style of schmooze.
They made small talk while they ate, and before either Hayden or Lyssa had pulled out their notepads to indicate it was time for business, Carlo got up and handed them folders. “We know what you’re here for. Let’s get to it.”
Hayden flipped his folder open. “So what’s in here that we don’t already know?”
“Two brand new analysts working full time with our group.” Carlo’s mouth spread into a wide grin.
“From the bank’s pool?”
“No, hired these two from the outside,” Carlo answered. “The bank’s analyst group is great for providing basic data and stats, but, to be completely frank, it’s not really any information we couldn’t get by subscribing to a service. As you know, we run their stats through our own set of models. The more we refine the models, the longer they take to run, so it was time to add dedicated analysts.”
“I don’t suppose either one of them is a woman,” Lyssa said, fingering through the papers to find their bios.
“Miss Bates,” Carlo said, “We have far too much respect for women to hire one simply as a matter of fulfilling a quota. There are lots of great female minds out there, and as soon as the perfect fit happens to be looking for a job at the same time we’re looking to hire, we’ll be happy to bring her aboard.”
Craig spoke up. “We hope to hire two to three more analysts before the year is out. Maybe once you’ve got the Delicious Hawaii account squared away, you’ll want to see what it’s like on the other side of the fence.” He gave her a teasing wink as he sat back in his chair and tapped his fingertips together, regarding Lyssa. “But seriously, where’d you get your MBA?”
Lyssa ignored her partner’s under-the-table nudge. “I’m leaving my options open on that one. Right now, I’m soaking up all I can in the school of life.”
Carlo smiled. “Smart girl. There’s no substitute for experience.”
“Thanks, Carlo,” Lyssa said, unable to resist nudging Hayden right back.
He’d told her these guys were the Tarantinos of the investment world, but Lyssa began to think of them more like the Willy Wonkas as the interview continued.
Everything she saw and heard was entirely delightful and enchanting. Bell Funds’ professionals were intelligent yet down-to-earth, and their approach to investing was edgy while being supremely logical at the same time. When they walked along the hallway to meet the analysts and tour the facilities, she was half tempted to lick the striped wallpaper to see if it tasted like fruit.
By the time she and Hayden hailed a cab to take them to the airport, she was completely on board with her partner’s earlier assessment—Bell Funds would be an impressive recommendation to bring forward in their first contribution to Project Pineapple.
* * *
The next night found Lyssa snuggling up to Keith on his couch and grabbing handfuls of popcorn from the plastic bowl that sat on his lap. They were catching up on the weekly sci-fi they always watched together.
When Captain Starr left the disc of emergency evacuation protocols with his trusted assistant, Keith’s roommate Bill murmured from the recliner, “You’re gonna regret that … ”
“Shh, man. Lyss hasn’t seen it yet,” Keith scolded.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and swiveled her face to look at him. “And you have?”
“Eh … yeah.”
“You couldn’t wait two nights to watch with me?”
“I am watching with you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, I thought you’d be watching too. You said you planned to collapse in your hotel room for the night.”
“But I texted I was going to dinner—and that was before the show would’ve started.”
“By then I had my mind set on watching. What’s the big deal?”
She settled her head back onto him and looked toward the TV. He was absolutely right—it wasn’t a big deal … and yet, something about the situation niggled at her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d watched?”
“You didn’t ask.”
She pulled away again. “It was implied.”
“You two going to watch or are you going to bitch at each other?” Bill asked.
