I’ve moved in with a college friend, but with Dad only paying for the first month, I’m worried. He can’t really cut me off. At least I don’t think he really would, but it’s time I grow up. I think I get it. Since I moved out, I definitely haven’t had the same lifestyle that I’ve been accustomed to my entire life. Dad pays for the expensive bills, and I pay for everything else. That means no shopping sprees and no fancy dinners out for me. I’ll even have to sell all my designer clothes for next to nothing. This is moving faster than I would really like it to. And now, I’m sitting in some office happy, actually happy that I got a job interview.
I think I’m totally acing this interview. Simple, predictable questions I can answer in my sleep. Until the conference door opens andhewalks in.
He’s strangely familiar, almost like he stepped out of a dream. I know I’ve seen those dark eyes before, and the slightly crooked nose. His brown hair styled to perfection, the cut of his jaw and the way he enters the room—like he owns it and all the world around.
His eyes land on me, pinning me for a moment, and I realize why I’m suddenly squeezing my thighs together and holding my breath. The last time I saw him, I was hiding. And he was wet, ruffled, and naked.
My jaw almost hits the floor as I look him over again. I never thought I’d see my dad’s best friend again. And there’s no way that this is his company. What are the odds that I’m applying for a job directly under him? That he still looks this…good.
My body heats up, but I force myself to look at the interviewer, Avery, as if nothing’s going on. As if the man who’s just walked in hasn’t fueled all of my teenage fantasies.
“Uh, okay, Claire Evans, this will be your boss if hired—Mr. James Douglass.” Avery motions to him.
“Thank you, Avery. I’ll take over from here,” James, no, Mr. Douglass says. He’s strong, fit, gorgeous. There’s something wild about him, too, some barely restrained savagery that excites me in a way it shouldn’t.You’re here for a job, Claire! A job!
Avery nods once and I smoothed my skirt over my thighs. I notice his gaze following my hands, but then he turns and walks away, just expecting me to follow him I guess. And I do, without question. I follow him into his office like it’s normal. Because it is normal, just another interview, with my dad’s former best friend and closest business partner whom I’ve seen naked coming out of a shower. Totally normal.
Mr. Douglass motions me to sit, and I cross my legs as I do. He shuts the door and I squirm a bit. It doesn’t matter that Mr. Douglass is almost twice my age, maybe more. He’s a god. At least six foot two, with thick, dark hair and dark-green eyes that leave me breathless. It’s no wonder I had a crush on him when I was sixteen. From head to toe, he’s truly a beautiful specimen of a man.
And my memories of him clearly didn’t do him justice. The light stubble on his jaw, the way the corner of his mouth turns up when he catches me looking him over. The way his eyes dare me to say something. The way he saunters, like he knows he’s in charge and that there’s nothing I can do but obey. Oh how I want to obey him.
Mr. Douglass sits and adjusts his tie. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring. I try to remember if he ever did. His fingers are so much bigger than mine. I wonder if something else is as big as I remember…
I hold my breath as I imagine him fucking me on his desk.
He clears his throat and pulls me out of my daydream.God, what is wrong with me?He arches an eyebrow at me. I swallow and sit up straighter. Obeying him feels almost natural, expected. He nods once, grunts, and motions for my paperwork. I hand it over and feel his fingers brush mine. There was a slight callous to them, like he does a lot of work with his hands rather than just sit at a desk all day shuffling papers.
“Your resume is excellent, but if you’re going to be my secretary, you’ll have to prove yourself.” He folds his hands on the desk and meets my eyes. “Are you prepared to prove yourself?”
The question feels dangerous, but I plaster on a smile, like a good girl would. “Of course. Ask me anything Mr. Douglass.”
“If a difficult client were to come in, demanding…satisfaction, insisting that you make things right, how would you respond? Better, if you know that there is nothing we can do and you have to deliver the bad news?”
I take a deep breath as his gaze travels over me again, lingering on my chest. I follow his eyes wandering down my front wondering what. Shit, my button is undone. I do my best to ignore it and pretend like I was comfortable with that much cleavage hanging out. I feel my face flush hot.Please don’t turn red. Please don’t turn red.
I take a small breath “I would be as kind and professional as possible, but firm. I would say, ‘I would like to help and will happily take feedback to pass along to management, but my answer won’t change.’”
He nods. “So, you’re accustomed to saying no.” He leans his head to the side. I feel like I’m blushing, then he opens his mouth again. “To clients or customers.”
“Yes.”
“How would you handle multiple tasks needing to be done in a timely manner?” He licks his lips and his eyes go glassy for a moment. Based on how he’s looking at my cleavage, it seems as if…no, he wouldn’t be lost in a daydream. He’s too professional for that. Too mature.
I clear my throat lightly, glancing at the window.
“Ah, yes, tasks that have to be done quickly, thoroughly, and with great attention to detail.” His voice is low, husky.
“I have my way of getting things done to ensure I’m successful and finish on time.” My voice matches his.
He grins. “You pay good attention to detail, Claire. You seem like a good match.”
“I think I’m a pretty good choice.” I shrug, pushing my hair behind my ear.
“I believe in rigorous testing.” Mr. Douglass leans forward and gives me a slow once over. My whole body heats up in a way I haven’t felt in years. The way he looks at me, his tone, the questions with wicked double meaning, have me completely unfocused and unable to concentrate. I feel like I can barely form a sentence but somehow I manage.
“You can test as much as you’d like. I’m either good for the position or I’m not.”
“You’d be responsible for multiple positions here. You’d need to be flexible.”