And with that we were back to being adversaries.
"Well, that's a good thing, honey, because with your credentials you don't merit this job."
"This job doesn't require any credentials. You could get a monkey to do that type of stuff if he was dumb enough to do it. I know I wouldn’t. You could offer me a million dollars, and I still wouldn’t do this job."
"If your work is worth a million dollars, why are you out looking for a job in the first place? How much of your art have you sold anyway?"
"You know what Hunter? You can take my resume, and shove it up your ass." She turned and strode out of my office.
The smart thing would have been to let her go. But the fact that she had the last word, the last laugh, really irked me. So, I strode out the door and up the hallway to catch up with her.
"You know, we do have jobs for starving artists," I said as I reached her outside the elevators. "There's an opening down in the mailroom."
"Gee, Hunter you're so clever. You're such a strong, strong man to pick on a small woman like me who's only trying to make her way in the world doing something she's passionate about."
Her words hit exactly where she wanted them to. She was pointing out that I wasn't just an asshole, but I was mean and insensitive too. But there was a gleam in her eye that suggested that she w
asn't offended by my remark. In fact, it was quite possible she was enjoying this.
Actually, I was enjoying it too. I like spirited strong women. Apparently, I also was turned on when they stood up to me, which was something that didn't happen to me very often. Most women wanted to play nice so that I would play nice back and I didn’t just mean with my body. Most women were hoping they would become Mrs. Hunter Strong, and have access to my money.
Natalie clearly didn’t give a shit about any of that. There was something about the way her gray eyes shot daggers at me and that amused smirk that made me hot, not with anger, but with the desire to learn if she was as feisty in bed as she was now.
4
Natalie
I submitted my application, and I went to the interview simply so I could tell my sister that I did. But I had no intention of actually trying to get the job. So, I showed up prepared to be unqualified. My dress was a regular A-line, but it was probably a size too small and had wildly shocking colors all over it, completely inappropriate for a corporate environment. If that didn't bug the hell out of the Strong brothers, then surely my lavender hair would. And if none of that worked, the fact that I had no experience working in a corporate art department should make me ineligible for the job. Not that I couldn't get it if I really wanted it because I was sure I could. But the idea of being in a cubicle all day made my skin crawl.
While my sister had married Ryan, I didn’t know his brothers very well. I’d met Hunter at the wedding, but hadn’t talked to him very much. All I knew was his reputation. Up close and personal, I could see why he was so successful in earning his reputation. He was a large man with broad shoulders. Even under his stuffy suit, there was something about him that looked sexually primal. The artist in me wanted to get him naked and paint him. Or better yet, sculpt him. A specimen like Hunter could probably become as famous as Michelangelo's David.
I could see some resemblance of him to Ryan that indicated they were brothers, but whereas Ryan was the classic Southern California blond hair, blue eyed, pretty boy, Hunter’s, blond hair had a reddish hue to it, and his features were more raw and rugged. Whereas Ryan could be a surfer, Hunter would be a mountain climber.
I was on my best behavior, and based on how the interview started out, he must've been on his as well. But not long into it, we let her guards down and our true selves came out. The surprising aspect of the whole thing was how I was amused and even titillated by it. But as fun as verbally sparring with Hunter was, I had better things to do with my time. Especially since what he was looking for in an artist was something so uninspiring, I was sure it would suck the very soul out of me if I even tried to do it. So, I cut my losses and walked out when things started getting really out of hand between us. I was shocked when he followed me out and continued our little spat.
I poked the button to the elevator to make my exit. As fun as this was, it probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to get caught fighting with my sister’s brother.
"Are you the runt of the family?" I asked as I waited for the elevator car to arrive at the floor. "Because compared to Ryan you are completely uncouth."
"Uncouth?"
I cast a quick glance at him to see if he was offended, but the sharp gleam in his eyes suggested that to him, this was all a game.
"That's rich coming from you. Compared to your sister like a little ragamuffin."
I let out a quick laugh. "This is what free will looks like Hunter. Something you don't seem to have in these stifled, staid, boring walls of Strong Incorporated." The elevator car arrived and I stepped in, turning to look at him.
His jaw had tightened, and he looked like he was trying to decide on what he would say to have the last word. Maybe that's what this game was; last word. I wanted to win this game, so I searched my brain for what my last word could be. I’d be prepared to deliver it right when the door closed on his handsome face.
But he surprised me by stepping into the elevator. He was an immense man, not just in size but in presence as well. All of a sudden, the elevator felt like a shoebox.
"Are you sure this is free will? Or is it just someone who doesn't want to grow up and keeps acting out?" he said.
“Since when is growing up defined as losing your sense of creativity and fun and play?" I took a breath as I looked up at him. "Then again you’re the one to talk Hunter. You’ve got the libido of a 16-year-old boy winking off to Internet porn." Then, for good measure, I added. “If you’re as good in bed as your reputation seems to suggest, it's too bad you can't take all that energy and creativity and actually put it into an ad campaign that could sell shoes."
"You've quite a mouth on you," he said, following me out of the elevator when we reached the garage level. "It's too bad you only use it to spout such drivel. There are so many other things that a nice mouth like that could be doing."
The woman in me wanted to turn around and slap him, but I knew that's probably what he wanted. All this was about pushing each other's buttons. It was unclear to me why either of us cared so much, except for it was making for an interesting morning. But since I was nearly at my car, I decided I would just ignore it.