She nods. “We have so many events that Mark uses the testing to determine where we can best service the clientele. In fact, we have a wine testing Wednesday night.”
My stomach knots. Could wine really be my undoing?
“Excuse me,” a woman in dark-rimmed glasses says, appearing at the desk. “Can someone help me with a Chris Merit piece, please?”
An image of Chris standing in front of me, holding his jacket around me, makes my belly do a flutter. “I would be happy to help you,” I offer, suddenly very eager to visit his display again.
Amanda looks shocked, and I assume that means I’m not allowed to be on the floor yet. I pretend not to notice and head to the sales floor.
An hour later, the woman has left with a six-figure purchase that has me glowing with excitement, and I am glowing with the rush of having made a sale.
Ralph winks at me as I pass his office, which I’ve now discovered is next to mine, ah, Rebecca’s. My stomach growls and I realize I haven’t eaten anything and a glance at the ridiculously expensive, absolutely fabulous antique clock in the hallway says it’s two o’clock. Jeez, how did that happen?
I turn back to the reception area to ask Amanda if I can run out, and find myself toe-to-toe with Mark. He is taller than I remembered and I crane my neck to meet his stare. “Ms. McMillan,” he says tightly, and I am immediately aware of his displeasure. Why is he displeased? I just brought in six figures to the gallery.
“Mr. Compton,” I say.
“Why have you not completed your testing?”
“I was, ah, helping customers.”
“Did I tell you to help customers?”
I wet my lips nervously, and his gaze flicks over my mouth. It’s unnerving. He’s unnerving me again. “I just thought-”
“Don’t think, Ms. McMillan,” he says tightly. “Do as I say.”
Old, familiar feelings spiral down my spine, feelings of inadequacy, of needing to please--a moth to flame that is sure to burn me alive--surface. I reject them and straighten. “I took every test I’m capable of taking. I don’t know wine or opera or classical music. I’m sure you’ll find the job-related ones to be exemplary.”
“All the test are job related,” he corrects, “if you wish to operate at a higher level, which I understood you to say, you did. Did I get that wrong, Ms. McMillan?”
There is a crispness to my name that was not there before, and I am remotely aware that I am in front of an open office that is Ralph’s, that he can hear and see everything.
“No,” I reply softly, firmly. “You are not wrong, Mr. Compton,” and I am shocked to realize I have emphasized his name as he did mine. There is a rebel inside me that refuses to sink into my old habits, and I am suddenly proud of myself. “But I cannot test on what I do not know.”
“Testing allows me to decide where to start teaching you,” he says in rebuttal.
“At the beginning,” I reply. “Since the only thing I know about wine, for instance, is what color it is when it’s in my glass.”
He arches a light blond brow. “Really? That much?”
“That much,” I confirm.
He considers me a moment. He’s good at doing that, considering me, putting me on edge, no doubt on purpose. “Do you have a laptop?” he asks finally.
I frown, not sure where this is going. “Yes.”
“Do you have it with you?”
“Yes.”
“So you know how to use it?”
I am so not pleased with the snarky question. I lower my voice, unable to stop my reply. “That’s a little like asking a rich, arrogant, gallery owner, if he knows he’s a rich, arrogant, gallery owner.”
His eyes light up with amusement. “I am rich and arrogant, Ms. McMillan. I like being rich and arrogant. I thought you too, wanted to be rich yourself. Or was I mistaken?”
My throat goes dry. Rich? Is he joking? “I don’t recall any such opportunity.”
“And you won’t until you learn what I need you to learn. Since I can’t trust you to stay off the floor, take your laptop to the coffee shop next door. Amanda will give you a study manual so you can remedy your...deficiencies.”
I narrow my gaze at him, aware he is trying to bait me. I’m not going to bite. I give a nod. “Of course, Mr. Compton. I’ll get right on that.”
His lips twitch. “Check in before you leave for the night. I’ll want to quiz you.”
***
Fifteen minutes later I walk into Cup’ A Cafe next door to the gallery, and the rich scent of brewing coffee, and something distinctly chocolate, touches my nostrils. If the coffee tastes as good as this place smells, I am going to love it here. Not to mention the decor, all warm browns and leather, with a hardwood floor, is soothing in a way that contrasts the caffeinated high people come here for. I can use soothing right now.