She’d applied for the position of unpaid staff writer on the university magazine as soon as she’d arrived in Nottingham the previous week. Now, she being interviewed by the highly intelligent editor and already making a fool of herself.
“What I mean, Hanna, is what is your Unique Selling Point? What makes you special? What do you have that all the other applicants don’t?”
He had obviously taken pity on her. It seemed the “deer in the headlights” look got her somewhere in life after all. It was a shame she couldn’t use it on her family as easily.
“Well, Josh Chambers.” She allowed herself a small grin at using his full name in the same way he had said hers. “I have many Unique Selling Points. I’m hardworking, I’m determined, and I never take no for an answer.”
“You and everybody else I’ve spoken to today. That doesn’t make you unique. That just makes you desperate.” Josh shook his head, smirking at her response. He was on the right side of attractive, with his mop of dark-blond hair, strong jaw and day-old stubble. He had perfected the “geek-chic” look, with his black rimmed glasses that kept sliding down his nose. Though he was in the final year of his journalism degree, to Hanna he seemed so much more than two years her senior.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a large poster on the wall advertising a gig taking place the following week. She turned her head to look, smiling as she recognized the man posing on the front of the poster. He was wearing a tight black shirt, his wild hair flying everywhere as he strummed his guitar.
“I know Tom McLean from Fatal Limits.” She gestured over to the picture on the wall advertising the band as the headline act. “I could score an interview with them.”
Josh leaned forward, his curiosity sparked for the first time that morning. “Are you shitting me?”
“No!” Hanna laughed at his expression. “Seriously, I met him in the summer. They’ve just been signed by an independent label. I can call him right now if you like.”
Josh was still regarding her with interest, his pencil firmly wedged in between his teeth. “Okay. Let’s agree that if you score an interview with Fatal Limits, and if you write a good enough article, then I’ll put you on a three month trial.” His smile was genuine.
“Thank you!” Hanna was incredulous, finding it hard to believe that out of nearly a hundred applicants, she had been given a trial. She felt like doing a little celebration dance.
“I’ll warn you now, I’m a pretty hard taskmaster. I’ve been known to make grown men cry with my editing. I don’t take any bullshit, and if you’re after an easy ride, then this isn’t the job for you.”
“I’m not after any kind of ride, thank you very much,” Hanna replied pithily, returning his stare with a piercing one of her own. “And a lot bigger men than you have tried, and failed, to make me cry.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge, then.”
“Please do.”
Josh put out his hand and grabbed hold of Hanna’s. He shook it a couple of times, as if to seal the deal.
“I look forward to working with you, Hanna Vincent.”
“Please call me Hanna. Vincent is my surname. It sounds weird when you say it like that.”
“Okay then, I look forward to working with you, Hanna.” He paused. “No Vincent.”
“You just couldn’t resist it could you?” She shook her head at him.
“You think you’re irresistible?” His brow rose up.
“Not as much as you do.”
Josh removed his glasses, placing them on the desk to his right. Running his hand through his hair, he leaned forward until his face was only inches from Hanna’s.
“Are you hitting on me, Hanna Vincent?” She could feel his soft breath against her skin. He was that close.
“If you have to ask, then the answer’s no. If I was hitting on you, you’d know it.”
“Then I look forward to knowing it.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” She pushed herself up from the chair, picking up her resume and portfolio. “Thank you for the job offer. I look forward to you publishing my first piece.” Sounding more confident than she felt, she gave Josh a quick nod and walked out into the main newspaper office. Closing the door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure if she was attracted to Josh Chambers…or if she wanted to kill him.
WHEN SHE GOT back to her dorm room, there was a small brown parcel wedged into the mailbox by her door. Pulling it out, she saw it had come from New York. The customs form affixed to the back had been smudged in the rain, the writing illegible.
She wondered what on earth her father was doing sending her books. Part of her couldn’t wait to see what sort of inappropriate present he had sent this time. She supposed at the very least, she should give him kudos for remembering her.
Once inside her room, she picked up the package and began to unwrap it. As soon as she tore the brown paper apart, her mouth dropped open with surprise. The book inside wasn’t pristine and new. It had that unique, dusty odor that only old books possessed. A hardcover with a bottle-green dust jacket. It was extremely well preserved for its age. The large white script across the front cover left her in no doubt that the gift was not from Philip Vincent.