Kade held up a hand, halting her. “Don’t start apologizing and undermining everything you just said.”
She bit her lip, swallowing back her instinct to spout disclaimers. “Okay.”
“It sounds like an amazing cause, Tessa. Truly. I’m impressed that you put such a thoughtful organization together.”
“Thank you.” Her heart was like a Boombox rattling her ribcage, and her palms had gone sticky with sweat against the arms of the chair.
“And it would be an honor to have Bluebonnet Place as the featured charity at our event.”
Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, like a dream.
“However . . .”
Her breathing stopped, the awful word clanging in her ears.
“There would be some conditions,” he finished.
The air whooshed out of her in a gust. Conditions. Not a no. Conditions! She could handle that. Heck, she couldn’t imagine anything that would stop her from saying yes. Anything would be better than crawling on her hands and knees and begging her asshole ex-husband for help. She grabbed her pen and flipped her steno pad to a fresh page. “What do you have in mind?”
“Evelyn, our point person who is usually in charge of the event, is on medical leave.”
“Okay.” She made a note.
“And I know that you’re currently working for a temp agency, is that correct?”
She frowned, unsure what that had to do with anything and how he knew the information in the first place. “I am.”
He tugged open one of his desk drawers and pulled out a folder. His eyes met hers. “I need you to quit and come to work for me.”
EIGHT
Tessa tilted her head, the words not quite registering. “Wait, you want me to what?”
“In order for this to happen, I’ll need you to quit the temp agency and take over the event this year as coordinator,” Kade said, his tone no-nonsense.
She stared at him, wondering if he’d knocked his head on something or maybe had gotten sauced on his lunch break. Clearly, he was talking crazy.
“We’d, of course, pay you a fair salary since the position will be full time for the next few months.” He slid a document her way, pointing to a salary number that would take her at least two years of temp work to make. “You’ll have a small office in the PR department and access to one of their assistants if you need administrative help.”
“Van, I mean, Mr. Vandergriff—” she said, panic rooting in her chest and spreading outward. He was being serious?
“Please, call me Kade.”
“Kade,” she said, her eyes lifting from the document before her. All the things he’d said about the event swam through her brain, forming a whirlpool of there’s no fucking way protests—thirty restaurants, booking bands, getting a headliner . . . “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t understand. I’m not qualified to—”
“Of course you are,” he said, his tone not leaving room for argument. “No one will be more passionate about swaying people to participate. I received a copy of your resume from the temp service. You have the basic office skills you need to stay organized, and the admin can help with the little details. Your main focus will be on garnering participants and planning the event. You listed event planning in your Other Skills section on the resume.”
Shit. Once again she was reminded why lying was such a bad idea. She’d added that at Sam’s suggestion to fluff up the resume. And sure, Tessa had planned big parties before, but only at her home, nothing for anyone who was paying her to get it right. “Those events were personal ones. Nothing official. I don’t think I’m capable of taking on—”
“This is the condition, Tessa. Nonnegotiable. I have complete faith that you can do this. If you can’t get the donors lined up, your charity is the one that suffers. And I know you won’t let that happen.”
Her lungs felt like they’d been flattened with a rolling pin. She tried to pull in a breath. There was no way she could take this on. It’d be an utter failure. The highest-level job she’d ever held was the one she had now, and that was only one step above being ticket taker at the local theater. But if she turned it down, Bluebonnet Place wouldn’t get the money at all. She’d walked in promising herself she’d do whatever it took to get this chance and now that promise was coming home to roost like a big, fat, squawking hen.
“Do you accept my condition, Tessa?” Kade asked, all business.
Did she accept? As if she had any choice. Nerves moved over her skin like static. What if she completely embarrassed herself? What if donors laughed in her face? She rubbed her hands along the arms of the chair, trying to get them to stop shaking.
“I guess I do. I’m not sure why you would want me to—” Another worry sparked in the hollows of her chest, cutting off her train of thought. “Wait, tell me you’re not doing this because of what happened between us Friday night.”