“Excuse me?”
Emily straightened her jacket. Her skirt. She ran her hands through her hair, tucked it behind her ears and sat down in one of the chairs by his desk.
“I suspect she’ll be the best PA you’ve ever had.”
Marco blinked.
“The best what?”
“PA. Personal assistant. Actually, you might want to consider her your administrative assistant.” Jane hesitated. “I left that message with your current PA. Didn’t she give it to you?”
Marco strode the length o
f his office. Had he missed something? He must have. What in hell was the woman talking about?
He asked her exactly that.
“You’re not making sense,” he growled. “Ms. Madison will perform at the opening of Twenty-two Pascal.”
“Only if you insist. Sir.”
The “sir” had been tacked on. No one with a brain would not have heard it as either a reprimand or a questioning of his sanity or perhaps both, but if anyone was insane here, it was surely not him.
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning that once I read her employment application, I realized her potential.”
“Her potential as what? Ms. Madison plays the piano. Why would I see her in any other capacity?”
“Why, indeed?” Emily said from right behind him.
Marco turned around. Emily had gotten to her feet. She was standing with her chin elevated, her eyes narrowed.
His narrowed, too. What in hell was going on? His waif had turned into a cool-looking businesswoman. The businesswoman had morphed into a temptress. Now, she seemed to have another transformation coming on. The tigress, from the expression on her face.
“It’s about you,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and his temper under control. He put his hand over the receiver. “You, and the fact that you seem to have approached my HR manager about a job I had not offered you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Mr. Santini?”
Jane Barnett’s voice rang in his ear. Marco uncovered the telephone.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Ms. Wilde is eminently qualified, sir.”
“I don’t know what Ms. Madison told you, Jane, but—”
“I didn’t tell her anything,” Emily hissed.
“—but whatever it was, she is not a candidate for the position as my administrative assistant.”
“May I ask the reason, sir?”
The reason. The reason. Could it have anything to do with the fact that he never mixed business with pleasure? That if Barnett was correct—though, of course, that was impossible but still, if by some strange twist of fate she were—hiring Emily to work for him would mean any other relationship was out of the question.
No.