The Pitch: City Love 2 (4 page)

“He’s not my type,” Paul said, watching the distant outline of my blind date as he walked off into the night.

Fortunately we’d been saved from any awkward introductions. Paul respectfully kept his distance until Dillon and I said our good nights outside the front of the restaurant. The remainder of our dinner had been pleasant, but Dillon’s exotic looks weren’t going to make me forget about his traditional values.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I replied, with a raised brow.

Paul was wearing dark denim jeans and a simple black polo shirt. His outfit contrasted his fair hair and made his blue eyes appear luminous. He laughed. “That’s exactly why he’s not my type.”

He gestured up the street and we started walking. “Thanks again for going out of your way. I know this is a hassle.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Nice non-response to my age question earlier, by the way.”

Paul glanced at me as we made our way along the sidewalk. “It’s a sensitive subject.”

“Really? I thought that only applied to women.”

“Well, I’m not female and getting older stings.”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about.” He was lucky if he was a day over forty.

Paul’s eyes gleamed at me through the city semi-darkness. “Said with the innocence of youth, my dear.”

“Said with the condescension of age, old man,” I retorted, and watched as his eyes widened and he laughed heartily.

“See how you feel in ten years, when you’re staring down the barrel of middle age,” he said when his laughter subsided.

“I dare say I’ll be less worried about the number and more concerned with finding a cosmetic surgeon.”

“I hope not. And I doubt you’ll need one, judging by your mother.”

“Fingers crossed. All I’m saying is age in a man is considered an advantage, whereas for women we’re seen as being past our prime. Men can at least age gracefully.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” he muttered.

I doubted someone as self-assured as Paul needed reassurance, but I couldn’t believe he didn’t see it. “Absolutely. I mean, look at you. You’re in your prime. You’re the major partner of a successful and established leading Sydney media agency. Unlike me, who is yet to prove myself.”

Paul’s eyes turned thoughtful. “You’ve already proved yourself. There’s hard work to come, but don’t fool yourself by thinking public success equates to personal success.”

I blinked. His comment was deeply insightful. “That sounds very wise.”

His lips curled into a wry smile. “Or old, don’t you mean?”

“How old?”

“Nice try.”

I resisted the urge to punch him playfully and realized with a shock that our formal business relationship wasn’t quite so formal anymore. “Oh come on. Would you really like to be twenty-nine again and have to do it all over?”

“I wouldn’t want to do it all over again, but there are parts I’d change.”

We reached his car, which was shadowed in darkness by the branches of a stately, old oak tree. Paul opened the door of a sleek black Audi sedan for me and I settled into the leather passenger seat. I waited until he was in the driver’s seat to resume our conversation.

“Regrets?” I asked casually, although I was more than a little curious about the less public aspects of Paul’s life.

He started the engine. It was an interesting response.

“Everyone has regrets,” I persisted. “That’s the price of taking risks, surely?”

He didn’t answer again and instead concentrated on checking the road for traffic. He pulled out smoothly and drove toward the Grounded Marketing office in silence. The gentle hum of the Audi filled the lull in conversation and I suspected that Paul was a man that needed space to talk.

I was rewarded a few blocks later, when he glanced at me, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I can live with business and professional risks,” he told me quietly. “It’s the personal ones that are harder to reconcile.”

“I doubt there’s anyone who has lived who doesn’t have a personal regret or two,” I reasoned. I certainly had a few. The way my last long-term relationship ended for instance. I resisted a scowl. That was the main reason I was still single four years later.

We pulled up out the front of my towering Kent Street office building. Paul found a parking spot easily due to the late hour. He shut off the motor.

“I’m being unnecessarily reflective,” he informed me. “Forgive me, but it’s been a long week.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m but a humble student, oh wise one. I learn from merely being in your presence.”

Paul stopped reaching for the door handle and stared at me, an odd look on his face.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Your beauty belies your wit.” Then he yanked open the door and stepped out into the night, letting a cool rush of evening air into the car. I shivered, then grabbed my suit jacket as I got out of the car.

I shrugged on my jacket, my long hair whipping around my face and neck. Paul had his back to me and appeared to be staring up at the office tower dwarfing us. If he thought he could drop a comment like that and I’d let it lie, he’d underestimated my stubbornness.

“You’re saying I don’t look like I have a sense of humor?” I had to speak loudly above the whistle of wind rushing down the city street and the constant hum of cars.

Paul waited a long moment before turning to face me. His eyes were serious and it unnerved me. “First impressions can be deceptive.”

I was
not
going to drop this. It was a combination of the offhand comment about my beauty and my indignation about my apparent lack of humor. “So what
was
your first impression, then?”

I couldn’t read his expression, but he didn’t hesitate. “Serious, professional, controlled. Determined.”

I frowned. What he said was true, even if it annoyed me to admit it.

A small smile played on Paul’s lips, then he gestured for us to walk. We started toward the foyer doors. “They’re admirable qualities. Qualities that have contributed to the success of your business.”

And to my complete and utter failure in relationships,
I thought. “So my sense of humor comes as a surprise?”

I used my security card to unlock the after hours door. We made our way to the elevators, the click of my heels echoing on the marble tiles.

“You don’t let everyone see that side of you,” he mused.

“Why would I? I’m there to guide and drive the business. It doesn’t seem appropriate.” When I realized how restrained that sounded, I continued. “Although I’m not against a joke or some banter in the office.”

“But you don’t get involved.”

“I – ”

He turned to face me, holding up a hand. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t meant as an insult. I just find it intriguing that here you are effortlessly engaging in some healthy banter with me, yet you don’t use it to your advantage more in business.” His blue eyes held mine with captivating ease.

I reached out and hit the button for the elevator, unnerved. “It says more about gender roles than our personalities if you ask me. Men get ahead in business by mutual back patting and friendly banter. Women have to prove themselves to be as tough as the men, but it makes us appear humorless and hard.”

I hadn’t meant for it to be a feminist rant, but it was how I felt. I’d learned early that to be successful, I had to put my emotions aside to be respected.

Paul looked thoughtful as we entered the elevator. “You have the experience and presence to be able to drop that facade in some settings. To your benefit.”

“What settings?” I was interested in Paul’s perspective. I rarely had anyone to bounce off business-wise. I could talk about anything with my girlfriends, but it was hard for them to understand the pressure of running Grounded Marketing or the type of business circles I was expected to mix in.

Paul watched as the elevator display counted upwards. “I wouldn’t do it with people you’ve just met. Once they get to know you, I think a little of that wit would add a new element to your business relationships, though.” He glanced at me. “It’d help break the ice.”

I inhaled a sharp breath. Was he saying I came across as cold? I knew I didn’t have the warmth of someone like Cate or the effervescent personality of Christa, but his comment stung.

The elevator doors opened at our floor and I stepped out into the darkened landing, not bothering to look behind me. I used my security card again to unlock Grounded Marketing and switched on a few of the fluorescent lights. The molded tree trunk desks spread out before us like an eerie forest.

I didn’t so much hear, but felt Paul’s presence, as he followed behind me. “I’ve insulted you.”

It wasn’t particularly mature of me, but I ignored him. I continued to my office and switched on the light. My eyes roamed the space which I spent more time in than my own home. I identified an unfamiliar looking folder underneath a small pile of magazines on the coffee table. No wonder I hadn’t noticed it before.

I reached down and picked it up, then turned to give it to Paul. I held it at arm’s length.

He stood in the doorway observing me. The amusement on his face only pissed me off further.

“Here it is,” I said impatiently.

After a painfully long moment, he pushed away from the door frame and took his folder from me. Instead of easing back, he stepped in closer and I forced myself not to move. We stared at each other eye to eye.

“I wasn’t suggesting you’re an ice queen.” His lips quirked.

“Oh?” I may not be an ice queen, but I was doing an exceptionally good job of being haughty.

“You’re imposing, Madeleine.” His eyes held mine as he let this sink in. “You may be young, but even to experienced men in their forties and beyond, your combination of drive, intelligence and looks means they’d find it hard to approach you.”

My breath left me in a whoosh. I hadn’t expected the honest character assessment and I was feeling slightly wounded, but tried not to show it.

“I’m not for a moment suggesting you should change any of those qualities. They’re what got you here. All I’m saying is that by opening up and revealing a bit of that humor, you’ll connect better.”

“And relationships is what this is all about,” I stated numbly.

“Exactly.” Paul’s eyes clouded. “I’m not very good at this.”

“Sorry?”

“Mentoring.”

I gave him a quizzical look.

“I’ve attacked you personally, haven’t I? I was trying to give you useful advice.”

“No, I wouldn’t say – ”

Paul turned away and collapsed into one of my armchairs. “This is why I leave the staff to Greg,” he muttered.

I stared at him in open mouthed shock. One moment he was delivering a brutal assessment of my personality failings with alarming precision and the next he was berating himself. I sat down opposite him, my ego still wounded.

He looked at me reluctantly. “Pitching and sales is my thing, Madeleine, but I completely fail at managing people. Greg Mathers, my business partner, is the expert when it comes to employees. Without him, I’d be sitting in a pub somewhere playing bad covers to people who don’t care to listen.”

My ego gave way to genuine curiosity. “Alright, back up. I have a few questions. Isn’t pitching all about relationships?”

Paul’s lips quirked again and I decided his half smiles were inexplicably attractive.

“Pitching is about the sell. You need to get to the heart of what turns a client on, but it’s different to staff. They come to you for advice and …” he gave me a distasteful look, “
personal
problems.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help myself. I knew exactly what he was saying. While I was always professional with my staff, having a good team meant getting to know them personally. Occasionally that meant recognizing how their personal crises affected their work. “You’re such a man.”

“And not a lot of men are good at that side of business. Greg is brilliant at it because he’s got a good-natured fatherly approach. He’s also far more patient when it comes to staff driveling on about their shit. You’ll probably shoot me for saying this, but as a woman, you’re naturally better equipped to deal with it.”

Ice queen or not, I wasn’t going to argue with him. My staff
did
come to me if they needed to. I liked to think it was because they respected me and I gave the impression that I was in control. I also genuinely enjoyed offering them my support – unlike Paul, who sounded as though he’d run a mile before dealing with anyone’s personal problems.

“I’m guessing a female staff member coming to you in tears would be the stuff of nightmares?”

He winced and I laughed. “How about you introduce me to Greg for any staffing advice I may need?” I suggested.

“Gladly.” Paul stood and picked up the folder, indicating the conversation was finished. I followed him out, switching off the lights as I went.

After I locked the glass entrance doors and we were waiting for the elevator, I turned to face Paul. “You’re not off the hook yet. So why you would be playing covers in a pub somewhere if not for Greg?”

Paul held the door open while I entered the elevator. “I had designs on becoming the next Australian rock success. I was a lead guitarist in a band at university, which was far more satisfying than my studies. Greg was the drummer. After we graduated, Greg set up a small media agency. He asked me to help out with a few of the pitches early on and it turned out I was good at it.”

I raised my eyebrows. Paul was becoming more and more interesting. “So is this the same agency you both run today?”

“No. That only lasted a year and then we went our separate ways. I got the taste for pitching though. After that I built a name for myself in the industry. By our early thirties, Greg and I were both sick of working for other people. That’s when the idea for NTRtain began.”

I wasn’t going to let the rock star Paul of yesteryear fade just yet. “Did you play lead guitar and vocals?”

He shook his head. “Lead guitar, but I sing flat. The guys wouldn’t even let me do backing vocals.”

“Did you have groupies?”

“That’s how I met my wife.”

And just like that, all the breath left me. It was irrational and ridiculous, but the news that Paul had a wife deeply affected me.
Don’t be so stupid, Madeleine. Of course he has a wife.
Even with my subconscious berating me, it didn’t stop the cold feeling settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach.