I sat at my desk and stared at my uneaten lunch. Knowing Logan had me as the front-runner should have been helpful, but all my nerves whispered back to me was, what would happen if it didn’t go well? What if what I said in the interview changed his mind?
The interviews started at one. I saw Gary’s mop of black hair turn the corner into Logan’s office and shut the door. Gary had even worn a tie. The atmosphere at the agency was relaxed, and a lot of designers wore jeans and flip-flops. Not me. I wanted people to know how seriously I took my work, and looking the part helped.
Gary’s interview didn’t last too long. Thirty minutes later he was back at his cube and the tie was gone. At two, Maurice was up. He was another senior designer, but honestly, I
didn’t view him as much competition. He was timid and quiet. I couldn’t imagine him managing some of the full-bodied personalities we had here.
My competition went into his office two minutes before three. Kathleen wore a beautifully cut charcoal gray pantsuit with a sunflower yellow necklace. She looked every bit the part of a professional manager when she breezed into Logan’s office, and her interview lasted a long time. So long, I began to worry what I was going to do if the interview ran over into my timeslot. Should I knock? Wait outside the door? Thankfully, it swung open before I had to make a decision, and Kathleen exited.
I squashed my nerves for the millionth time and went into his office. They said if you were uncomfortable, you should picture the other person in their underwear. Yeah, well, that wasn’t any help. I knew exactly what he looked like in his underwear. Or with absolutely nothing on at all.
I shut the door. When I turned to his desk, he wasn’t there, because he was standing before me. I took a confused step toward the pair of chairs facing his desk, but his hands encircled my waist.
“What are you doing?” I whispered in the moment before he set his mouth on mine. His sweet kiss lingered on my lips even after it was gone. “What about my interview?”
“We’ll get there. I need a minute to recover. You mind?” His hushed voice was so sexy it made my knees soften.
“Um . . . no, I guess not.”
I went to sit and face him while he sat behind his desk. He arched his back and stretched up as if trying to shake loose the tedium of the interviewing process. When it was done, his gaze drifted over my body, upward until his eyes found mine.
“Why do you want the job,” he asked, “Evelyn?”
Evelyn, not Evie, because we were at work. Because the interview had now begun. I fed him the talking points I’d drafted from my research. He listened respectfully and said nothing. Then came a sharp look that made me feel about three pixels tall.
“I want to know the real reason you want the position,” he said. “Not some bullshit answer you think I want to hear.”
His aggressive tone disabled my filter. “Because it’s a stepping stone to yours.”
“You want my job? What about me?” His eyes glittered with interest.
“You’ll be Creative Director.”
His mouth went slack with what I guessed was surprise.
“Don’t you think that will go to Chase McCutchen in PR when Will retires?” His voice was . . . unsure. “They’re not going to give it to someone in print.”
I could see everything behind those gorgeous mahogany irises. Like me, he wanted to reach for a job he might be too inexperienced or too young to land. But I believed no one would work harder or be better at it than he would.
“No, I don’t think they’ll give it to Chase. Not if he has to go up against you for it.”
He blew out a breath and an emotion streaked his face, like I’d just said the most flattering thing he’d ever heard. He hesitated and visibly struggled to pull himself back on topic.
“Tell me about a difficult situation in your work and how you handled it.”
I swallowed a breath. This was going to be a gamble. “When I first started, I was paired with a senior designer—”
“Austin.”
“He had difficulty working as a team. He fought me on everything, told me that he knew better because he was a senior. He used it as an excuse to steamroll me.” I had to still my nervous hands, folding them into my lap. “Austin wouldn’t take my suggestions. I tried being nice, I tried to give him time, but when the customer was screaming for a new direction and Austin wouldn’t budge, I ran out of options.”
“You did it yourself.”
“I gave it to our manager and told him Austin and I had collaborated, but Austin hadn’t even seen it.”
Logan straightened in his chair. “Do you think telling me a story about going behind another designer’s back is a good idea?”
“I’m hoping you’ll understand I’m willing to do something that makes me unpopular if it’s going to get the customer what they want, plus I’m not a pushover. I can stand up to someone who has more experience when I believe they’re wrong.”