“You’ll be perfect.”
I hope so. But Kelsey doesn’t know that landing this job is only the half of it.
Because ‘assistant’ wouldn’t be my only task.
But that’s getting ahead of myself. I hang up and order my iced mocha, trying to focus. Wow them in the interview first, worry about the rest of it later. But as I’m striding confidently to the doors, gripping my mocha, someone jostles my elbow. My arm lurches, the cap flies free, and a wave of cold, dark coffee hits me, square in the chest.
“Noooo.” I wail in dismay, looking down at my no-longer-white blouse. I’m soaked to the skin, with cream smeared down my front and caramel sauce dripping from the mess, just to taunt me with my extra treat add-on.
I look a total mess.
And I have exactly ten minutes until the biggest interview of my life.
I quickly run through my options. I can’t go back home and change—I don’t have the time. And all I’m wearing underneath is my lucky pink lace bra, not exactly interview material. Can I find a store open to grab a replacement? Not likely, before nine a.m.
I can’t believe it. So much for turning everything around.
Tears well in my eyes. Everything was riding on getting this job today.
Everything.
“I apologize.”
A voice beside me breaks through my misery. “That was my fault.
“I apologize. Let me cover your dry cleaning.”
I look up and find my day has just turned from ‘bad’ to ‘humiliating’ because, of course, it’s the handsome man from behind me in line. But I’m freaking out too much to care. This is an emergency, and I’m about to lose it: my pride, my self-control, and my future job.
“No… You don’t get it,” I nearly sob, looking around helplessly. “I have a big interview. I can’t show up looking like this!”
The man looks around, and then briskly begins to hustle me to the lobby of the building next door. I’m all out of options, so I follow blindly behind him, but unless he’s taking me to an Ann Taylor outlet, I’m all out of luck.
It’s not a store, but the ladies’ restroom. He guides me inside, locks the door behind us, and then orders:
“Take off your clothes.”
“Umm, what… ?” I stammer, flustered. My cheeks burn hotter as he strips off his suit jacket, unknots his tie, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
I gape. This can not be happening.
Am I dreaming? Did someone spike that mocha with some hallucinogenics? Because my walking fantasy is slowly undressing in front of me, totally unconcerned.
He shrugs off the shirt, revealing a set of mesmerizingly solid muscles, gloriously tight and cut. He has the lean physique of an athlete who worked hard for it, too hard to keep it covered with a suit. Broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist, thick biceps and just a smattering of a treasure trove right at his belt buckle. It’s a feast for the eyes. I can’t look away, even if I wanted to.
I don’t want to. That’s a buffet I could happily gaze at for hours. Days, even.
“You can do something with this, right?”
Oh, yes. I can. Many things.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s holding his shirt out. It’s only when one corner of his lip curls up in a knowing smile that I finally get it. He’s offering me a replacement for my ruined blouse
I take it from him. “But what about you?”
He shrugs. Like handing over fine Italian linen is no big deal. And to him, it probably isn’t. “I’ll manage. You clearly have someplace important to be.”
For a moment, I can’t recall where. My blood pulses.
Then it hits me. If I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be terribly late for my job interview. And yet, I can’t seem to convince my eyes to get with the picture. All they want to do is drink him in.
And the rest of my body… Well, it wants to do a whole lot more.
I feel a shiver of sexual awareness, my nipples tightening. The man’s smirk grows wider, and I realize, he can see the stiff peaks, right through my wet shirt.
My cheeks burn hotter. “Turn around,” I snap, embarrassed.
He does it, so I quickly yank the ruined blouse over my head and start buttoning his shirt up. But I’m just tucking it into my skirt when I catch sight of him in the mirror, his eyes on my reflection.
I gasp. He was watching me undress the whole time!
“So much for chivalry,” I say pointedly, trying to hide my embarrassment.
And giving thanks that I wore a good bra.
The man turns to face me again as I straighten up. “I just gave you the shirt off my back,” he says, sounding amused as he shrugs on his jacket again.
“Right. Thanks,” I blurt. Glancing at my reflection, I can see, he really did just save the day. His shirt is oversized in a cool, stylish way, and I might even look better than I did in my sale-rack blouse. “Well… I should go.”
“Wait.”
He doesn’t block my path, but somehow, I find myself pressed up against six feet of taut, toned muscle.
“Wha—”
My question is cut short as he takes me in his arms, pushes me firmly back against the sink, and kisses the living daylights out of me.
Holy shit!
His mouth is demanding, hot and hungry as his hands grip my waist, pinning me in place. My brain short-circuits. One minute, I’m wondering if I buttoned this thing right, and the next…
The next, I’m in sensory overload.
He eases my lips open and slides his tongue deep into my mouth. My legs give way. Heat rushes through me, tightening at my core, and I have to grip his lapels and hold on for dear life as he kisses, and probes, and undoes me with his mouth.
Oh my God.
I can’t get enough. It’s hot, and wild, and totally overwhelming, and I arch up against him, eagerly reaching to—
He releases me.
Just as quickly as it started, the kiss is over. I blink at him in disbelief, my heart pounding, my blood boiling from his touch. I’m unraveled, but the man looks totally unaffected as he gives me a smug grin.
“You can tell everything by the way someone kisses,” he says, smirking. “Especially how they are in bed.”
And then he saunters out, leaving me reeling there alone in the restroom.
He heard me!
I recognize the words, and let out a groan. He was listening to my conversation with Kelsey, back there in line at the coffee shop. All my blabbering about my date, and the job interview. What must he think of me?
Enough to land the hands-down best kiss of your life.
Good point.
And if the kiss was that good, sex with him would be…
Nope! I can’t be thinking about this right now. I grab my bag and hightail it across the street, trying to put that weird and wonderful encounter behind me and focus on what really matters right now:
Landing this job.
I take a deep breath as I approach the building, windows gleaming in the morning sun. Sterling Cross is the most exclusive luxury jewelry company in the world, crafting the kind of exquisite creations that adorn movie stars and royalty, with waiting lists a mile long. Their headquarters here in New York is like a work of art on its own. When I take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor, the doors open on an incredible atrium sparkling like one of their priceless jewels, all light and crystal, with display cases showcasing gorgeous necklaces, and stunning prints of their gems.