I still need to check around with other people, I think I’m going to do ATL and AUG, both in the same trip.
Mallory L. Lockhart
Risk Management Consultant
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Friday, March 9th. 9:40 a.m.
To: Lockhart, Mallory
Subject: RE: Throwing around dates
Yes, we are here… don’t know about the rest of office. In fact, we have a little party scheduled that evening at 5:30 with our Pimco friends. I would love to take you with us.
April 17 works also.
Matthew Wynne
Senior VP Corporate Sales
He wanted to take me with them? Just reading that made me anxious. I didn’t want to interrupt some big party that they already had on the schedule, plus I wanted it to be a smaller group of us so we could get to know each other, so I picked the 17th. and hoped he would be okay with that.
__________________________
From: Lockhart, Mallory
Sent: Friday, March 9th. 10:49 a.m.
To: Wynne, Matt
Subject: RE: Throwing around dates
Sounds like the 17th. might work for Augusta. Let me get with Heather and see if that works.
Mallory L. Lockhart
Risk Management Consultant
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Friday, March 9th. 11:07 a.m.
To: Lockhart, Mallory
Subject: RE: Throwing around dates
That sounds like a plan. Let me know.
Matthew Wynne
Senior VP Corporate Sales
Under any other circumstances, I would have asked the branch manager when the best time to come visit would be. But since he was one of the highest producers in the branch, and he had graciously offered to take me out after work, naturally it was important that he be there, right? But the fact that I was making these plans with him directly did make me feel like I was misbehaving a little bit. I was okay with that. He forwarded me the assistant branch manager’s announcement of my impending arrival.
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Tuesday, April 3rd. 2:39 p.m.
To: Lockhart, Mallory
Subject: FW: Mallory Lockhart Visit
Awesome.
Matthew Wynne
Senior VP Corporate Sales
From: Downing, Heather
Sent: Tuesday, April 3rd. 2:38 p.m.
To: ATLANTA BRANCH
Subject: Mallory Lockhart Visit
Mallory will be here for a branch visit on Tuesday, April 17th. She will be driving down from Raleigh that morning so will be in Atlanta early afternoon.
Thanks!
Heather Downing
Assistant Branch Manager
An instant smile swept across my face. I quickly replied:
__________________________
From: Lockhart, Mallory
Sent: Tuesday, April 3rd. 2:42 p.m.
To: Wynne, Matt
Subject: RE: Mallory Lockhart Visit
I was just telling Brooke you need to cause some trouble because I never get to talk to you guys anymore!
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Tuesday, April 3rd. 2:43 p.m.
To: Lockhart, Mallory
Subject: RE: Mallory Lockhart Visit
Trouble is no problem….
Matthew Wynne
Senior VP Corporate Sales
I laughed and shook my head, that flirty little shit. I checked our company site for hotels nearby and forwarded the choices on to him and Brooke a few days later for their opinions.
__________________________
From: Lockhart, Mallory
Sent: Friday, April 6th. 2:04 p.m.
To: Wynne, Matt, Nelson, Brooke
Subject: RE: Mallory Lockhart Visit
Hey Guys,
Since I have never been to your fair city, where out of these possible places should I plan on staying where I will be least likely to get mugged, shot, stabbed, or all of the above? As you know, they allow us to book only the finest establishments available.
Residence Inn Atlantic Station
Courtyard Atlanta midtown
Atlantic Inn 18th. Street
__________________________
From: Wynne, Matt
Sent: Friday, April 6th. 2:30 p.m.
To: Lockhart, Mallory
Subject: FW: Mallory Lockhart Visit
Hi there,
Courtyard Atlanta is about 3 blocks away from the office. The Residence Inn is also close by, maybe 6 blocks. Both are near where we will go for refreshments after work.
NO on Atlantic Inn.
Matthew Wynne
Senior VP Corporate Sales
I quickly booked my room. With a plan now in place, we continued to speak every few days, usually only briefly. About a week before my trip, we were chatting on the phone again when he caught me off guard and asked me for my cell phone number. I panicked for a second and thought This is going to cause me nothing but trouble. Still, I didn’t want to appear that I thought he was implying anything improper between us, so I gave it to him anyway. And then I began to anxiously anticipate how long it would be before he texted me. I can probably admit now that I was a little disappointed when I didn’t hear from him right away. He waited until the morning of my visit.
Are you on your way? Drive safely!
Well that was sweet of him! I responded back: I am, but I’m driving my older car, it’s less of a gas guzzler, so if it doesn’t make it, I may need you guys to come get me!
Do you want me to leave now or wait 5 minutes?
I think I just purred like a kitten. I felt that familiar prickly flush in my cheeks and flutter in my stomach. I hit the gas. Hard. I didn’t even know why exactly, but I suddenly couldn’t drive fast enough. I’m a notorious lead foot anyway but I was about to get to Atlanta in record time. I wasn’t stopping to pee, get food, nothing. I just wanted to get there as quickly as humanly possible. I texted him several times to let him know my progress.
Now in Charlotte! Just passed SC Welcome sign! Georgia Border!
He would immediately respond back: Keep trucking, baby!
I arrived around 1:45 and got checked in to my hotel room. In warp speed, I changed out of my jeans and into a much cuter, yet work-appropriate outfit: black and white flowered A-line skirt, black wrap shirt, and red espadrilles. I had spent a fair amount of time carefully choosing it the night before. I spruced up my hair, got cleaned up, and headed to their offices, less than a mile away.
Just before I arrived at the building that stinker texted me that he wasn’t even there. He had previously scheduled an appointment and he and Brooke were out of the office for at least another hour. I was overly annoyed that he hadn’t mentioned this before. Why would he make an appointment on an afternoon when he knew I was coming down? This was practically his idea, I thought to myself. I wanted to feel like he was looking forward to seeing me as much as I already was him.
I managed to pass the time by walking around to the other brokers and introducing myself again. I talked about what we do in our department (which includes monitoring all investment activity and external emails), and answered any questions they had. Jeff Russo and I were hanging out in his office just finishing up our conversation when I heard that unmistakable southern drawl just outside the door.
When he walked into Jeff’s office, I quite literally sprung out of my chair and threw my arms around his neck. No awkward half-arm hug this time. He had the slightest little scruff of hair around his mouth, not quite a goatee yet, but without thinking twice, I grabbed his face and exclaimed, “WHAT IS THIS?!” as if he was my property already. I couldn’t help but notice he had major dimples when he smiled. He greeted me with a hearty laugh and a kiss on the cheek, taking me by the hand and leading me down to his office. I also
couldn’t help but notice he shut the door as I sat down.
He asked about my trip, about my former boss (with whom he was friendly), and made sure I was okay with where we were going for drinks, a place called Rosa Mexicano in Atlantic Station. He was in the process of hiring a new assistant. I used to be an executive assistant, so he asked me several questions about the different candidates, such as: how much should he be willing to pay them, should he hire someone who may have no industry experience but a better “people” personality? It was nice knowing that he respected my opinion enough to ask for my thoughts. But admittedly, I was sort of distracted by the way he was sitting casually kicked back in his chair, his arms resting behind his head and his legs spread out. As my eyes looked him over, I saw that he had rather large feet, and then I laughed to myself that I would even consider checking out such a thing.
I was disappointed when Brooke suddenly announced she wasn’t going to be able to come with us after all, since I knew her better than anyone else. Her husband was a cop and had to work weird hours, so she had to go pick up her kids. She assured me that Matt would take good care of me, that he was very skilled at making people feel at ease and keeping them in the conversation. Not that I was particularly worried about that. I’m sure she wasn’t aware of just how familiar I was with Matt’s conversations, but I sort of wanted her there to keep me out of trouble.
We walked out together so I could follow him over to the restaurant. He stopped at a gas station for me and waited for me to fill up (these old guys have such nice manners!) to be sure I wouldn’t get lost. I was now running on fumes after only stopping once to fill up the entire way down there.
When we arrived at Rosa Mexicano together, Jeff was the only one already there. Since we had beautiful weather that day, sunny and about 77 degrees, he had scored us a nice large table outside on the patio and was just sitting there waiting.
“Hey Jeff, how long you been waiting? Why didn’t you order yourself a drink, guy?” Matt asked, as he pulled my chair out for me.
“I was just trying to be polite and wait on the ladies to get here.”
I quickly piped up, “Oh, well Matt’s here now…”
I heard a little “Ooooh” under Jeff’s breath and Matt shot me one of those “Oh so that’s how it is, huh?” glances. God, I thought, he’s really good looking. And tan. Why is he so tan in April?
I would come to love those little sideways glances so much, and I would get them often, because I was always picking on him. I picked on him for being a republican (but he was socially liberal!), for being a little fancy pants when it came to his wardrobe, for being befuddled by non-qwerty keyboards and other technological advancements. That was my flirting shtick, I guess–the only thing I knew how to do well–just like back in elementary school when you playfully teased the boy you had a crush on.
The others arrived and we all got settled in with some Pinot and appetizers, Matt started off talking about exercising. Jeff was also a runner like me. Matt ran sometimes, too, but his exercise of choice was cycling. Now the tan made sense. I immediately started picturing what his body must look like under that light blue pinstriped dress shirt that complimented his creamy coffee-colored skin just so. I thought I could trace the outline of his chest and arms. Oh man, I do love me a good chest. I bet he has a rock solid ass and big ripped thighs too, I imagined. On the surface it appeared like he would be my physical ideal, actually. He was tall, just under six feet, but didn’t tower over me. He had a lean, athletic build; not hard and muscle-bound or too chiseled, but just enough for you to know he could pick you up and throw you on the bed. I definitely did not just double check the size of his feet, no sir.
My foot inspection was interrupted by Matt mentioning one of his latest rides that lasted about four hours. I let out a groan. “FOUR HOURS!? On a bike?! For lack of a better word, doesn’t that hurt your taint?”
“Oh, well, you get used to penile numbness in this sport pretty quickly.”
A round of giggles erupted at the table, especially the ladies. His eyes twinkled devilishly as he laughed at himself and I think I saw him for the first time all over again. The way he ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair a bit nervously, those dimples, the self-deprecating sense of humor. It’s probably one of the things I find most appealing in anyone, really, male or female. We kept stealing glances at each other as everyone continued to drink up and cut up. Every time I thought I could sneak a peek at him, his charismatic dark brown eyes met mine. He would smile or wink at me with a gleam of mischief and I would blush like a fool. I had never met most of the ladies here before now, and the guys only briefly at the conference. But they made me instantly comfortable, as if I had been a part of their group for years. Just very down to earth and fun. Maybe it was the wine.
We started discussing food and more specifically, cooking.
“So, tell us Mal, are you a meat eater?” he said with complete seriousness that made me almost spit out my wine with laughter. And that started yet another entire chain of giggles at the table.
“Why, yes, Matt, I am a meat eater… and I can cook it too.”
“Like what, what’s your favorite thing to cook?”
“Beef tenderloin is probably my favorite, especially with horseradish mayo, but I would say any kind of meat you can name I can cook it pretty darn perfectly, which for beef, is medium rare.” That was true, I could cook just about any animal, poke it with my finger and tell you if it was done or not. It’s a rare gift. “But I absolutely hate fish,” I continued. “All of it. I won’t eat any seabugs at all.”
He looked horrified. “How on earth can you be from Maine and not eat fish? Is that how you ended up in North Carolina? They kicked you out of the state, didn’t they? That’s got to be some sort of crime…”
“Yes, my mother and I fled to avoid treason charges,” I retorted. Ah well, I thought to myself, we can’t have everything in common. I quickly covered, “I’ll still cook it though. I’ll just hold my nose the entire time and won’t eat it.”
We discussed traveling, which led to him talking about some of his past trips to Ukraine. He and his wife, Sandra, had adopted a young boy from an orphanage there about nine years ago, and he had gone back each year, sometimes several times a year, to give them cash donations and desperately needed supplies. He had already made plans to visit again in the summer. It was obviously a cause near and dear to his heart, and I thought it was very touching how much effort he put into making those children’s lives better.
We continued to laugh and talk and drink for hours and one by one people started leaving the table and heading home. By about eight p.m., it was just me, Matt and another advisor, Parker, still standing. Matt must have been able to tell I was getting tipsy, because he took my glass of wine and practically looked right through me as he poured half of it into his. I kept hoping Parker was going to take off and leave us there, but instead he took one last swig of his beer and announced, “Everyone ready?” Matt paid the bill and the three of us meandered back to the parking deck.
I remember feeling a little disappointed because I only wanted a few minutes alone with him, just to see what would happen. Not that anything would, but I wanted to see what he would say, how he would act. I wondered if he would hug me a little tighter against him or maybe kiss my cheek a bit more slowly this time. Would he admit that he felt a sudden spark between us too? As Parker got into his car and drove away, Matt asked me where I was staying. Then he boldly insisted on following me there just to make sure I arrived safely after all that drinking.
Yesssss!
Now, I know what you’re thinking, but I wasn’t like that. I was a married woman, perhaps unhappily, and he was perhaps an unhappily married man. Obviously, there was the possibility of a slight attraction. Okay, so maybe I was seeing rainbows and unicorns and shit, but it was probably just the wine at this point. I certainly wasn’t about to become some dirty cheater who sleeps with a random co-worker the first time she’s allo
wed away from home. That just wasn’t me.
He followed me back to the Residence Inn which was only a few blocks away. We both stepped out of our cars to say goodnight and goodbye. I really didn’t want to say either of those. He leaned up against the door of his silver BMW and I stood there in front of him, facing him, so incredibly close to him that the fabric of our shirts was touching. No one said anything for a minute or five. I pressed myself further into him for some stability although I wasn’t really sure if it was the wine anymore. Oh God, he smelled so good. I gazed up at him and spoke softly.
“Hey, Matt, thanks again for the food and the drinks and the company. I had a fantastic time. This was way better than Summerville.” (A little private joke there.)
“It was my pleasure, sweetie.”
He kept looking down at me with those gorgeous dark chocolate eyes, like he was going to say something, anything, please say something else. Instead he just continued to stare as if he could see the wholly inappropriate thoughts running through my head. We both swayed a little bit, my head fell against his chest for a moment and I kept it there, placing my hand up against him for balance. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. My heart was barely beating, just so still and calm. I felt each second go by waiting for him to make a move, while I imagined what it might be like to touch his lips. He finally gave a heavy sigh and whispered… “We’ve had a lot to drink… I’d better go…”
The Other Other Woman Page 2
