Blaze (Big D Escort Service Book 2)
Page 25
Kimberly had mentioned Hunter Carlisle was attractive. Incredibly gorgeous, she had said.
She had grossly understated his appearance.
He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and straight nose. A top-dollar tailored suit swathed the muscular vee of his torso, leading down to trim hips and solid thighs. His delicious bedroom eyes, hooded as though in the throes of ecstasy, were a deep, bottomless brown, entrancing. Confidence and charisma oozed from his powerful body, melting my bones. His masculinity did not ask me to yield, but demanded it.
On shaking legs threatening to buckle, I walked closer with a lump in my throat. I didn’t dare speak. It would only come out in a warbled mess.
“Olivia?” he asked, his keen gaze rooting me to the floor.
I struggled to take a breath.
“Olivia Jonston, correct?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, something hot and fiery settling deep into my core.
“Take a seat.” He moved around his desk with the grace of a dancer and stood behind one of the large chairs, as though pulling it out for me.
Walking like the Tin Man with rusty hinges, I crossed the distance and took the proffered seat, getting a whiff of his aftershave. I closed my eyes, savoring the mouthwatering elixir. Unbidden, wetness blossomed between my thighs.
Suddenly I knew exactly what Kimberly had been talking about; exactly why she’d flushed every time she mentioned his name. I knew why gorgeous, high-powered women lined up for a job probably way under their pay grade and professional level.
It was to be close to Hunter Carlisle.
I glanced up into those sexy, smoldering eyes, and just stared. I didn’t know what came next, but I was pretty sure I needed a moment to get ready for it.
“Did you bring your résumé?” Mr. Carlisle asked.
“Y-yes, of course,” I stammered, picking it off the ground where it had fluttered after my fingers lost their grip. The sheet trembled as I handed it across the desk.
He stared at me quietly for a moment before his gaze dipped to the page. He dropped the page to his desktop and resumed his scrutiny of me.
“Tell me,” he started in a deep voice that vibrated down my spine and tickled parts of me that were distinctly feminine. “Why would a Stanford grad in a sought-after field turn up in my office applying for an admin role?”
I willed saliva into my mouth to cure the sudden dryness. “As you see—” I pointed a shaky finger at his desktop where my résumé lay “—I graduated five months ago. I’ve been diligently searching for work, but at the moment, there aren’t opportunities for those without experience, however great the school I graduated from.”
The words sounded professional, but my tone was much too wispy. The sheen of sweat on my face screamed uncomfortable. Or, more correctly, turned on. I was out of control without a clue how to fix matters.
His gaze traveled my face, and then grazed my body. When he was once again looking into my eyes, he said, “The economy is lagging at present. You’re unlucky in your timing.”
“I’ve come to that realization,” I heard myself say. The words were like an echo from someone else. Wobbly and distorted. I was not in charge of my linguistics. I only hoped he attributed it to nervousness.
“Olivia?”
“What was that?” I blurted.
Humor sparked in his eyes. “I said, would you be open to tasks outside of that strictly administrative? I have a variety of projects that come through this office, or that need overseeing.”
“Yes, of course.”
“And hours? Do you have a preference?”
A blush crept up my face as heat saturated my body. “No. I’m always available,” I said in a breathy voice I did not recognize. Get a grip!
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his desk. “Tell me about your hobbies. Your usual day.”
Caught off guard with a non-interview question, and with my mind on complete hiatus in his company, I just blurted out what came to mind. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the minute details of my life. I told him everything, from my morning walk, to getting inventive with what was in the fridge. When he asked about my job search, I stupidly told all, one rejection to the next. I didn’t add flourishes or hold anything back. All my faults I laid bare, and all the things I excelled at I bluntly offered up. I just opened my mouth and purged.
He sat and watched me, gaining all my life’s secrets with a focused, almost predatory gaze. Only when shadows started crawling across the floor from the neighboring high rises did the question and answer segment slow, and finally stop. Silence descended as he sat and stared at me. My heart thumped under that handsome gaze.
The swish of expensive fabric was the only sound as he rose. “I think that’ll be all for today. Check in with my assistant on your way out. You’ll hear from my office either way.”
“Oh.” I painfully uncrossed my right leg from my left before I stood. My skin peeled away, leaving a red mark. Ouch.
I stood, a little lopsided, and tried to get my bearings. I should’ve switched positions at least once during the interview to prevent my leg from falling asleep.
After shaking it out, aware that I was the subject of scrutiny, I stepped forward to leave. My numb leg gave out. My knee knocked into the back of the desk with a loud thud. I fell forward, ungracefully sprawling across his desktop.
In a panic, I tried to right myself, but my leg was mostly useless. It stayed limp as my left leg pushed upward. My body swung toward the right.
I grunted, scrabbling my fingers across his desk, trying to find purchase and stop the slide. My elbow smashed into his phone, knocking it to the floor. Pens became airborne, launching across the desk. I grabbed the edge of his desk pad, dragging it with me as I tipped over the side. Gravity pulled at me greedily. My face rushed toward the ground.
Before I hit, strong hands grabbed me around the middle and hoisted me up. The desk pad crashed down. My résumé fluttered after it.
I knew a moment of confusion before I was righted, my body pulled into a chest so hard it could’ve been stone, flexed from picking me up in a dead weight. I clutched his shoulders, feeling the bulge of muscle through his suit jacket.
A sigh escaped my mouth. My lady parts tightened and then swelled, aching with the proximity of a man this divine. I melted against his body.
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Also by Willow Summers
Please Series
USA TODAY BESTSELLER!
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Forever, Please
Montana Wilds
Surviving Love
Conquering Love
Check them out here.
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About the Author
Willow Summers is a USA Today Bestselling author of romantic comedy, contemporary, erotic and suspense romance. When she’s not writing, be wary, because she will probably try to pull you into some shenanigans, usually involving wine and heavy doses of chocolate. She lives just south of wine country with her husband, two children, and out of work treadmill.
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