1
Hope
My knee bobs upand down as I wait outside the posh Park Avenue office of Rex Jamison, CEO of TechMagic Incorporated. The fumes from my slightly too-red, too-fresh from the salon manicure fills my nostrils the second I brush my bangs away from my eyes. Yes, they’re overgrown. But I couldn’t risk a bang trim right before my big interview. My gal always cuts them a bit too short, and I don’t want to end up looking like a Betty Page reject. Not today.
Not only is Tech Magic Incorporated my dream company, and one I’ve been dying to work for since I booted my very first computer, but it’s also my opportunity to jumpstart an entire career in programming. So, you know…no pressure. None at all.
I should’ve worn pants, but for whatever reason I thought a skirt would look more professional. Most programmers live in jeans or joggers. I tug at the hem of my skirt wishing that’s what I was wearing right now, dreaming of the moment the interview is over when I’m free to grab a double latte, crack open my computer, and work on my latest passion project, an interactive virtual reality rom-com experience. It’s likeThe Sims,but with more sex.
“It looks like he just got off the phone.” Mr. Jamison’s assistant says with a smile, her dimples indent the sides of her cheeks. “And it’s a good thing.” When the woman stands, her hand goes straight to her back, bracing the wide load she’s carrying up front. “This little guy’s tap dancing on my bladder.” She rubs her pregnant belly and lets out a long exhale. “Mr. Jamison will call you in directly when he’s ready.”
“Thank you.” I call to her as she waddles off down the hall toward the restroom. I’m surprised she’s still working at all. It looks like she’s about to pop any second. Good on her.
I pull my phone from my bag and check the time. It’s fifteen minutes past my scheduled interview appointment. My stomach clenches in knots. Cleary, Rex Jamison isn’t a stickler for punctuality. I open up an app on my phone just to pass the time, avoiding the urge to constantly glance at his office door. I’m about to beat my high score when—wouldn’t you just know it—his door finally creaks open.
“Miss Nichols?” A deep, commanding voice calls.
In one fell swoop, I exit the game and reach for my bag lying on the floor near my legs. When I’m back in a righted position, I find myself locked into the brightest, crystal blue eyes I’ve ever seen. The intensity of this glance nearly knocks me from my chair, and definitely steals the breath from my lungs.
All of the moisture in my mouth immediately dries up. I had no idea this billion dollar tech CEO was so…gigantic. He looks more like he belongs in the woods swinging an axe than in an office. He wears his thick hair brushed back away from his face, which only serves to highlight his strong, square-jaw and high cheekbones. His navy suit fits him to perfection, accentuating his broad as hell shoulders and thick, muscular frame. Where do you even get a suit that big? He probably has them custom made. I wonder what he looks like underneath it?
“I’m Hope Nichols.” I say, and rise with an outstretched hand.
My chin raises to meet his eyes. I swear I only come up to his chest, and I’m not a small girl. You can take your pick of names, I’ve heard them all—husky, plus-sized, thick, curvy, and yes, even fat. But this man makes me feel like a sweet, petite little fairy who’s found her enchanted gigantic Orc King.
Oh my God, Hope. Get a grip. You’re on ajobinterview!
“Rex Jamison.” His own oversized hand envelopes mine and a jolt of electricity shoots from my palm all the way down to the very center of my core. I suddenly wish I would’ve brought a spare pair of panties.
“Please, come in.” He says and holds his door open for me. I will my knees not to wobble as I walk past him. An aromatic cloud of sage and oak fills my nostrils and I have to remind myself not to take a gigantic whiff of him. I make it all the way to the desk before I turn around, and just in time. His eyes are focused on my ass, but he quickly flicks them upward once he realizes he’s caught.
Maybe the skirtwasa good idea, after all?
“Have a seat.” He says, and closes the door behind him. Before I sit, I take in the gigantic broad stretch of his shoulders against that fine-fitting suit of his. My tongue trails across my lips before I can stop it. With my imaginary X-ray vision, I picture his back muscles rippling and flexing beneath the expensive fabric. Clearly, this man’s no stranger to the gym. I suck in my tummy a little tighter as I sit, and adjust my skirt up over my pooch—a blatant, physical reminder that this sexpot of a man is way out of my league.
Mr. Jamison makes his way over to his desk as my fingers fumble to extract my résumé from my binder. His chair squeaks against his weight, and he takes the paper from my hands. His eyes flick up and down my résumé. Each second that passes brings greater waves of anxiety through my body. Finally, he speaks.
“You have a ton of experience working in tech.” He says, laying the paper down. His eyes meet mine. Again my breath catches in my throat. I resist the overwhelming urge to wiggle my hips against the chair to get some sort of relief from the growing ache in my center.
“I’ve been pretty choosy about which internships and temp gigs to take. The company’s the thing.” My hands twist in my lap.
“And impressive companies at that,” he says. “Why no permanent job offers?”
“Oh there were offers. But, I was sort of saving myself for you.” Rex Jamison’s eyes widen in surprise. Heat crawls up my cheeks and I fumble to correct my mistake. “Yourcompany.” I say. “I’ve been saving myself for the opportunity to work for Tech Magic.”
His eyes narrow. “I see.”
“Not to sound like a total idiot, but I’ve dreamed of working here since I was little.”
“How little?” He asks.
“Oh I don’t know, about middle school?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Mrs. Nichols—”
“It’sMiss.”
“Miss Nichols.” He corrects himself. “I have to ask. With all of your training and ambition as a programmer, why are you applying to be my executive assistant?”