“I know you wouldn’t suggest that,” I told her. “I’m just not sure I see the point anyway.”
Scarlett paused her dress search and turned to look at me. “Because he’s not on the list,” she said flatly.
“Can we please—”
Scarlett held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’m under strict instructions from Christa and Maddy to let up about the list. I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you like the guy, why not just give it a chance?”
“I don’t know him,” I protested.
“But you’d like to.” It was a statement. Scarlett selected a low cut black satin dress from the rack and held it up. “What do you think?”
There was no way I’d have the courage to wear a dress like that, but with Scarlett’s athletic figure and confidence, she could definitely pull it off. “Try it on,” I advised.
“If I try this one on, you need to try that one on.” She pointed to the dress I was still holding.
“Deal.”
We continued searching the racks because we both knew that successful dress shopping involved trying on more than one dress, even if you already found one you liked.
“So will you?” Scarlett asked, while contemplating a strapless number that wouldn’t look anywhere near as good as the one she already had.
“Will I what?”
“Give Dave a chance?”
I sighed. “I don’t see how that’s even possible. I don’t have his number and it’s not like we see each other regularly.” I strategically neglected to tell her that he looked after the plumbing in our building and I’d already bumped into him once. “Besides, I think he might have a girlfriend.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It was just something he said.”
“You have the number of where he works. You could call him and just ask.”
I swallowed. While an approach like that was completely reasonable for someone like Scarlett, the thought of being so direct made me feel slightly sick.
Sensing my discomfort, Scarlett reached over and patted my shoulder. “Alright. I get that’s not really your style. How about this then? If you run into him again, just forget about the list, OK? And that applies to men in general too. Realistically, Dave’s probably not the guy for you, but at least try to take the blinkers off.”
I probably should have been offended by the reference to blinkers but I was too surprised by her comment about Dave. “Why do you think Dave’s not the guy for me?”
Scarlett chuckled. “He’s a plumber.”
My mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe you! I had Christa calling me a snob, and all along you actually agreed with me?” I ignored the questioning look from one of the sales attendants at my raised voice.
Scarlett handed me another dress in my size, in a lighter green this time. Her eyes twinkled. “Try this one. Yeah, I know. I guess I was just thinking about a conversation we had one time when I was trying to figure out my feelings about John.”
All the anger left me and I let my shoulders drop. “When I told you not to let your past color your choices?”
Scarlett’s dark eyes turned serious. “That would be the one. I never thanked you, by the way.”
“No thanks necessary.” I should have known Scarlett better by now. She was abrupt and direct, and we were completely different, but she cared for me, the same as Maddy and Christa. “What gives you the impression my past has anything to do with things?”
Scarlett shrugged. “It occurred to me that the list could be a protective mechanism for you. You aim so high, no one can even come close. You stay safe that way.”
“But unlike you, I actually want to be in a relationship. Why would I do that?”
“I know you told me you’d moved on from your past, and in every other aspect of your life, I think you have. You’re university educated, you’re successful and financially stable. I just know from experience that when it comes to letting people in at a personal level the past has a way of haunting you. Maybe you’re doing it without even realizing.”
Scarlett turned away and started looking at dresses again. I knew she was trying to give me some space because what she’d said was very confronting. I’d need some time to process it.
“I’ll give what you’ve said some thought,” I told her.
“I know you will.” She didn’t turn around.
Gosh, she’d changed a lot since she’d fallen in love with John. She was still the same sassy, abrupt Scarlett, but emotionally she was a different person. “I’m so glad the past doesn’t haunt you the way it used to,” I said softly.
To my surprise, she reached over and gave me a short, tight hug, then released me. “I am too. And I’ve got John, you, Maddy and Christa to thank for that. So I’m sorry if I’m being pushy, alright? I guess I was just trying to return the favor.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. Before now, I’d never seen my list as a problem. A bit indulgent perhaps, and definitely indicative of my retentive nature, but I hadn’t considered my past could play a part.
Maybe it was time. Ditch the list. It was only a silly list, after all.
How hard could it be?
Chapter 8
My computer pinged at me. I sighed. It was giving me a five minute warning for my eleven o’clock appointment. I was only halfway through the financial plan I was working on and I really could have done without the interruption. The appointment was a potential new client though, so the plan would have to wait. In fact, this potential client had asked for me by name. It was happening more and more lately. When I’d made the switch to financial planning from tax accounting, it had been like starting over. No one knew me and it had taken time to build up trust with the firm’s existing clients. Only now, twelve months on, people were ringing up and asking for me. It was a sign that I was finally settling into my new role and gaining what I hoped was a positive reputation within the industry.
I closed the window I’d been working on and switched to my calendar. Tapping my fingers on the desk, I opened the eleven o’clock meeting invite.
David Worthington. All I knew, aside from his name, was that he was considering purchasing a business. Lucy, our office manager, had taken the call and recalled David hadn’t said much more than that. Occasionally potential clients could be vague, and I wasn’t too concerned. Financial planning was based on trust and relationships. The first meeting was all about assessing the fit of the relationship and establishing rapport.
I stared at the name again. David. What was it with Davids lately? My fingers stilled on the desk. I continued to stare at the name. It couldn’t be, could it? David was a very common name. Besides, plumber Dave was a Dave, not a David. An image of Dave running his thumb over my name on the business card I’d given him filled my mind. I straightened in my seat. How long had it been since I’d given him the card? Two weeks, maybe three? I thought he’d wanted the card because he knew someone who was looking for a financial planner. It had never actually occurred to me it might be him. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really said either way.
The phone on my desk rang. I eyed it warily for a second, then reached over and picked it up.
“David Worthington’s arrived.”
“Thanks Lucy.” I put the phone down and stood up. Well, I guess I was about to find out who David Worthington was.
I made my way down the hallway to reception and faltered when the waiting area came into view. I could only see a pair of legs, but that was enough. Worn jeans and a pair of battered brown boots. I smoothed my hands against my navy business skirt and marched forward.
“David?”
Without looking up, he turned off his phone and stood. When he met my eyes, I couldn’t read them. “Hi, Cate.”
I held out my hand, determined to be professional.
The edge of his mouth quirked slightly, but he took my hand. The handshake was firm, but not too firm, and I tried hard not to concentrate on the roughness of his skin on mine.
“
Call me Dave,” he said, then let go of my hand.
Smart ass. “Follow me.”
We made our way to my office, my mind whirling. Everything about this man was unsettling to me. How was I going to keep it together and stay professional with him sitting across from me? By doing my job, I reminded myself. I was good at my job, and I was also good with people. Plus he was in my territory today, not rescuing me from a watery disaster or taking me to the hospital.
We sat opposite each other, me behind my desk and him in the visitor’s chair opposite. He leaned back and crossed his arms against his chest. Interesting body language.
I offered him a friendly smile. “When you asked for my card I thought you meant it was for someone else. You should have said it was for you. I could have given you some more background.”
He looked around my office, his gold eyes assessing the furnishings. It was all very neutral and clinical. Off-white walls, gray carpet, gray desk. There was nothing in this room to hint at who I was, because in here, it was my job to focus on the client.
“I’d rather you give me the background here,” he said.
“Sure,” I said brightly, “but first it might be a good idea to know why you’re considering a financial planner. Have you ever used one before?”
“No.”
Gorgeous man or not, I stifled a sigh. Extracting information from him was going to prove challenging. “Alright. So why now?” He couldn’t give me a yes or no answer to that surely.
He turned his head toward the window. If he was searching for a distraction, he wasn’t going to find any. The outlook was of another building. The windows opposite were tinted so all we could see was a shadowy reflection of my office. He turned back to me.
“Five years ago I took over the management of a business called Bell Plumbing. Traditionally we looked after domestic clients, but I’ve expanded the business to focus on domestic building management and commercial clients.”
Well, that was a start. “Do you have a website?”
He nodded at my computer screen. “Google us. We should come up.”
I did as he suggested and blinked a few times when I landed on the home page. It was a nice website. Very professional and corporate. I hit the ‘About’ link, then quickly scanned the content. Wow. I did my best not to raise my eyebrows at the last paragraph: Bell Plumbing currently turns over 12 million dollars per annum, employs 50 staff and has 28 vehicles on the road.
Some plumbing business.
I cleared my throat. “It says here it’s a family business?” Dave’s surname was Worthington, not Bell, so it seemed like a reasonable question.
“For the last fifty years, it has been, but Bruce doesn’t have anyone else to pass it on to.”
“Why did he choose you?”
“I’ve been with him since I was an apprentice.”
In other words, he knew the business inside and out, and he was loyal. “He still owns the business?”
“He’s about to retire. He’s agreed to let me buy it.”
“And you want financial advice?”
“I need advice on how to structure the purchase and how it’s going to affect my financial situation. And seeing as you said you used to be an accountant, I figured you’d have the experience to look at it from all angles.”
I was flattered at his assessment, which was pretty close to the mark. “Well, if you agree to work with us, we can lay all that out for you. Do you mind if I ask you some other questions relating to your personal financial situation?”
He didn’t say anything, just watched me.
I guessed that was a yes. In Dave speak, anyway. I cleared my throat again. “Let’s start with your current assets. Any property?”
“I have three places.”
I stopped my eyes from widening by concentrating hard on my computer screen, and started inputting the information. “Do you owe much on those?”
“The house I live in is paid off. I’d say it would be valued around $1.5 million. The other two are apartments that I rent out. The mortgages on those are still big. Six hundred thousand a piece. I can get you the exact figures if we end up working together.”
I nodded, all business, except inside my head it was a different matter. My mind was reeling, trying to make sense of this man. “Any other assets?”
“Not really. Unless you count the cars.”
“The cars?”
“And the bikes.”
“Bikes?” I asked uncertainly. “Do you owe anything on them?” We didn’t usually consider motor vehicles an asset due to their tendency to depreciate.
“I own them all.”
All? “How many do you own?”
He frowned. “The ute’s my runabout, but there’s Mustang Sally, Evelyn – she’s a ’75 Corvette, the Mini Cooper, and three bikes.”
I closed my mouth because it was hanging open. “Some of those are imported,” I observed, when I’d gathered my thoughts. “How much would you say they’re worth?”
He uncrossed his arms and placed his palms on his thighs. “All up, around a hundred and fifty thousand.”
I typed the information into the computer. A house paid off, two investment properties and a truckload of boys toys. Who was this guy? It wasn’t unusual for people working in the trades to do quite well for themselves, but Dave didn’t appear all that much older than me.
“Any outstanding debts?”
“Apart from the mortgages, none.”
“Are you married or in a de facto relationship?” I did my best to keep my voice steady. It was strictly a business related question after all. Liar, my subconscious accused.
“No.”
“Dependents?”
“No.”
The man had to come from money. Not that he looked like it. Also, plumbing seemed like a strange career choice if that was the case, but now wasn’t the time to delve into his family history. “Well, it sounds like you’re in a strong position. I’d suggest our focus should be on building your wealth further.”
“That’s why I’m here, Cate.”
His use of my name made me hesitate. Was he trying to make me feel uncomfortable? “How about I run through the ways we can work together and explain our usual process?”
At his non-reply I barreled on. I handed him a few of our brochures and outlined the steps and costs involved in preparing a financial plan. I was careful to stress that it would be a long-term relationship. And that we’d be reviewing the plan regularly and reassess things if need be.
When I was finished, I offered him another smile. “Do you have any questions?”
“Why you?”
I hesitated, then forced myself to straighten in my seat. He was a potential client, like any other, I reminded myself. “It’s not just me you’ll be working with,” I explained, “there’s a team of us.”
“I know. But why should you be my main point of contact?”
I gave him an odd look. In the last twelve months, I’d had to sell myself and the firm’s services numerous times. Up until now though, no one had ever been so direct. I straightened in my seat. If he preferred direct, I’d give him direct.
“I’m a qualified tax accountant with a decade of experience working on the accounts of small to medium businesses. Last year I completed my diploma in financial planning. I’m retentive enough to never miss the detail but my experience means I’m good at the bigger picture, which is important when building a solid financial plan.”
“I read your bio on the website.”
“Oh, of course,” I said, flustered. He’d researched me beforehand. Completely understandable but disturbing nonetheless. Not to mention the cheesy image of me on the company’s website that I hated. “What else would you like to know?”
“What are you like to work with?”
I thought carefully for a moment. “I’m very pleasant to deal with.”
“Pleasant?” He smirked at me, and for the first time that day, those golden eyes seemed to light up.
>
Oh God, I had not just said that. Yes, it was the truth, but sometimes the truth sounded lame. “I’m also very responsive,” I said, a tad defensively.
OK, so he was grinning at me now.
“What I mean,” I said slowly, “is that I’m always available to talk. I make a point of making time for my clients.”
Dave nodded and appeared to be trying to swallow his grin.
I’d had enough. Yes, he was a potential client and a particularly attractive man, but he couldn't just come in here and make fun of me. I was damn good at my job, and the fact was, the relationship between a financial planner and a client worked both ways.
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “What are you like to work with?”
His smile faded at the challenging tone of my voice. “I’m sorry?”
“You, Dave. How am I going to find having a relationship with you?” I bit my lip. Whoops. Professional relationship, I desperately wanted to add, but it was too late now. I felt myself flush. Way to go, Cate.
His lips were twitching again. “I’m pretty easy going.”
“Sometimes that’s another word for lazy,” I shot back. OK, so perhaps that wasn’t quite so professional of me.
His eyebrows shot up, and I think he looked impressed. “No, Cate, I’m not lazy. I just learned a while back there’s only a few things in life that are worth getting really worked up about.”
Was he saying I was worked up? I didn’t care. “That’s it? You’re easy going?”
His smile was accompanied by a soft rumbling laugh. It was one of those smiles. I wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his deep chuckle or that he was offering me a rare glimpse of his happy face, but either way, it was enough to make a girl lose her breath altogether and clench her toes. And possibly other parts of one’s body, but I wasn’t going to think about that right now.
Once Dave was finished laughing at me, he rubbed a hand over his mouth, like he was trying to wipe the smile off his face. He had nice lips. He had quite a wide mouth and his lips weren’t really thick or too thin. They were just nice looking lips.
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