He ducked his head, his gaze alert and intent on me. “If that’s your half-assed idea, then I can’t wait to see your real vision.”
Sweat beaded on the back of my neck. Hundreds of thousands of dollars?
“I’m not qualified,” I repeated, the shock of what he was asking me, hitting me full force. “You’re not talking about just a candy bar wrapper. You’re talking about a whole revamp.”
“That’s right. Packaging, logo, commercials, all of it. I know you can help me get this company to where we need to be.”
“No.” I blinked up at him, feeling a heat wave hit my body. “I’m an artist. I’m not some sort of marketing expert like you think I am. I’ve never been to school for that, and I don’t have any experience in that field.”
There was power behind his tone when he spoke. “We’d need my marketing team too, but what I need is fresh, new ideas. You could bring that in bucketfuls. Some of this marketing stuff is all about creativity. You can go to school, yeah, and learn tricks of the trade or whatever marketing gurus learn, but sometimes, it’s as simple as knowing what people want, what people like. And you know what looks good.”
I pressed one hand to my chest. “Listen, I’m flattered. Really. But I just can’t accept this offer.”
“I’d pay you overtime.”
Tempting, really tempting, as I needed the money, and if I were sure I could do the job and be successful at it, I’d take him up on his offer. Though overtime would be really nice, that wasn’t the issue. Simply said, I wasn’t qualified to take this position when so much was riding on the line.
“I just can’t.”
He pinched his chin, never breaking eye contact. After pressing his lips together, he tipped his head, nodding. “Okay, I know this is a lot to take in, and I understand where you’re coming from, but from our brief conversations and the little that I’ve seen of your work, I believe you can really help us.”
His compliment made my stomach flip and then flop.
“Thanks,” I said, shifting in my seat, hating his fierce stare locked on me.
After a beat, he picked up his cup. “I have to get to a meeting, but, Charlie … please don’t deny me just yet. You’re talented, Charlie. Don’t try to hide it. And I’m sure it’s just not me. I know some artists who would think the same thing. I know quite a few people in the industry that I could introduce you to.” His gaze was firmly fixed on mine. “Just think about it, okay?”
The idea of helping Colby’s with this rebranding initiatives was tempting but scary as hell. “Okay.”
His smirk had me looking at what his eyes had flittered to.
“Sexy Filthy Boss?” He lifted a curious eyebrow.
Great. He had seen the title of my book.
When he reached for the book, I grabbed it and chucked it into my lunch bag.
“It’s a romantic comedy by one of my favorite authors. Okay, I guess I’ll see you later.” I waved a hand and tried to tame the heat on my face.
“Give it here …” He motioned with his fingers, beckoning me, my diversion tactic failing.
“What?”
“Your book. I want to see it.”
“Are you into romance novels now?” The heat of my cheeks rushed to my ears.
“Come on. I want to see it. I promise I won’t make fun of you.”
My face scrunched, and I pulled it out of my lunch bag. With a big pout, I plopped it on the table. When he reached for it, he flipped to the back cover to read the blurb. And I wanted to crawl under the lunch table and die a fast, easy death.
His eyes seared through me, and we were locked in this sort of no-blinking contest. “Do you fantasize about this sexy, filthy boss?”
The heat on my face turned from tamale hot to caliente hot. If I’d had any doubt I was beet red, there was no doubt now. I widened my eyes.
Honest to goodness, this could be classified as sexual harassment. But I knew he was just trying to get a rise out of me.
“I’m totally kidding. I shouldn’t have said that.” He pushed the book back in my direction and rubbed at his brow. “I’ve taken enough training to know that was totally inappropriate. That was actually random.” He tilted his head from side to side as though there were a crick in his neck. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
He locked eyes with me, and I swore it was as if he had secret powers because it stilled me in my spot, to the point where I couldn’t even move, let alone breathe.
“You just turned bright red. It’s … cute.” He shook his head as though he were clearing his focus and cleared his throat. Then, he rubbed at his brow again. “Anyway …”
Is Connor flirting with me?
But there was no way. He was beauty, and I was the blonde beast. I couldn’t fathom him actually flirting with me.
“Yeah, that’s my God-given talent. My face can turn so red that I look like one of those cartoon characters with their heads ready to blow. It’s a gift of mine that I’ve had ever since I was younger.”
He laughed. “You’re funny. I like that.” There was that weird staring contest happening again until he cleared his throat for what seemed like the millionth time and stood.
I wonder if he was coming down with something. Did he need a cough drop?
He knocked on the table twice. “I have a meeting in about ten minutes, so I’ll let you get back to your book. But let’s talk later about your decision.”
“Sounds good.”
He turned to leave, but then he stopped and turned back around. “Charlie … let me know what happens.”
“With what?”
“With the sexy, filthy boss. You know … if he gets the girl?” And then he winked and walked away.
Shit. Oh, shit.
I could’ve ignored all the little signs before, but now, I thought Connor Colby had been flirting with me.
Chapter 7
Charlie
I was one of five people who serviced Colby’s for the Chicagoland area that experienced computer problems. Mostly, I’d field calls and walk people through their issues on the phone, but there were certain times that I couldn’t solve the issues, and I’d have to do desk calls.
Nancy had called to tell me that her computer wasn’t working. She must have been close to eighty, which was past retirement age with her set of all-white hair and reading glasses, so I wondered why she was still here. I grouped her with the Alyssas of the world—those who worked because they believed in the company.
I pressed the power switch off to power down her computer, then pressed it again to turn it on. Sometimes, all a computer really needed was a reset. Didn’t we all?
“So, it’s your first week on the job?”
Her sweet voice reminded me of my own grandma, and a pang shot straight to my chest at the absence of her. She’d died when I was only a teenager, but still, we had been close.
“It is.”
“And you like this company so far, dearie?” She opened one of her drawers and pulled out a box of cookies. “Want one? Sometimes, all this candy is too much, and I want something sweet but not chocolate.”