by Arya Karin
“Um—yes. That’s me.” She placed her hand in his, shaking it, and stood. “Lydia, please.”
“Lydia.” He said her name like it was a precious jewel and gave her goose bumps all over her body. “Thank you for coming. I’m looking forward to our interview.” He led her past the receptionist desk and down a corridor.
As she weaved through the maze of desks and half walls, she glanced around to get a sense of the office. The muted peal of ringing telephones and a dozen humming conversations filled the air. The sage green carpet under her feet was thick and springy. Walking past cubicles furnished with leather executive chairs and dark wooden desks, she admired the coordinating accessories weaved in a wine-red and dark emerald color scheme. The sounds of people talking and typing fading behind them.
His hand on her lower back brought tingles through her. Immediately, she debated pulling away from his touch but hesitated. The action would seem rude and might offend him. Besides, she was over analyzing things and he probably didn’t even realize. Besides, she needed this job, and she had to a make a good impression.
Pausing at an elevator bank, he scanned her with his blue gaze from head to toe, lingering on her lips, her breasts, and finally her pelvis before meeting her eyes.
Half of her was uncomfortable at his forwardness, the other half was excited. Her heart raced. Last semester she’d ended her relationship with Barry after finding him naked with his bio partner and she’d not had time to date since. It was thrilling to have an older man’s approving look. And Mr. Westin appeared to be in his early thirties but handsome in a male actor kind of way rather than young like the boys on campus.
No, Mr. Westin was probably judging the suitability of her attire. Sure, her gray skirt was above her knees and a little tight, but it was borrowed. Her blouse was loose and didn’t cling to her boobs like most tops did and gave off just the hint of her cleavage. For a college student with negative funds, she guessed she appeared as businesslike as she could for this posh office.
The elevator dinged open and Mr. Wilson gestured her inside. After his pushed the top floor button and scanned his ID card, he placed his hand on the small of her back again. Unaccustomed to be touched in an elevator with a near stranger, she stiffened.
“Sorry.” He dropped his hand away. “The elevator lurches at the top floor, and I didn’t want you startled or losing your balance.”
A few flights later, the elevator jerked and Lydia grasped the rail beside her. Well, at least she knew now that he was telling the truth and it wasn’t a come-on. What would she do if he was flirting with her? The thought made her hands sweaty and she wiped them down the sides of her skirt.
“This way.” He led her down a dark hallway.
Where was he taking her? It was quiet, only her heels clicking down the ceramic tile echoed around them. His steps were silent. A feeling of unease raced through her. The urge to bolt and never return zipped through her. But she had bills to pay. Surely she could get through this interview, land the job, then she’d be on the ground floor with all the other cubical workers.
At the end of the hallway, was a set of doors, he punched in a numeric code, then placed his hand on a scanner. The device beeped and the door swung open.
Peering around him as he entered, Lydia breathed out a shaky sigh. The hallway was well lit and decorated with cream walls and paintings.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.
Why was it every stare he gave her made her think he was imaging her naked?
Suddenly her throat was very dry. “Um…yes, thank you.”
“There’s a break room to our left, help yourself.” He paused at the entrance. “We’ve got water, tea, coffee, soda.”
“Just water’s fine.” She stepped into the space and an overhead light flicked on. This room appeared more like a playboy’s living room. There was an enormous plasma TV on the wall, a huge leather couch in front of it. Beige carpet that begged to have toes wiggled through it and a full kitchen and dining room set. It looked like someone had plucked out the entire place from a magazine.
“In the fridge.” He pointed with his chin.
“Do you want anything?” she asked feeling awkward that he wasn’t coming past the doorframe.
“No, I’m fine.” The muscle in his jaw twitched like he was clenching his teeth. Nah, probably the lighting.
She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, then met him back in the hallway.
“The conference room is just down the hall.” He kept walking, but this time didn’t move to touch her. Instead, his hands were clenched by his sides. Was he restraining himself? Did he find her attractive and was battling the desire to kiss her?
Warmth from her thoughts pooled in her belly. Quickly, she unscrewed her water and took a big gulp. In her haste, water splashed out, spilling on her white blouse. “Damn!”
“What is it?” He spun so fast that for a moment, it seemed like his body blurred.
“Nothing. Sorry.” She wiped at her blouse with her free hand. “Just spilled on myself.”
Before she glanced up, she felt the heat of his gaze on her. Her breath caught in her throat. All of her body leaned toward his, just a breath away from her. The scent of his cologne tangy and spicy tickled her nostrils and made her want to inhale him in. Rub her hands over his flat stomach and up his muscular legs.
“Let me explain what our needs are.” He adjusted his tie as though restraining from ripping the thing off.
Needs? Oh yes, she had plenty and they were growing hotter by the moment.
He stepped backward, the space between them rushing over her. “Miss Snider?”
Blinking, she frowned. “Sorry, you were saying?” Her wet blouse clung to one boob and instead of feeling appalled, she capped the lid on her water bottle before she poured the whole thing on her shirt and demand Mr. Westin ravage her. God, what was wrong with her? She needed a job, not a fuck-fest. Oh, but he’d no doubt be thrilling in bed. Even his little innocent touches were already clouding her mind and filling it with images of them having sex.
“Nick and I have elite clients that are used to…certain privileges.” He had a hint of a foreign accent over the last word and she wondered where he was from. “We send out a special email to those select clients weekly. That’s where this open position comes in.”
“Okay.” It was hard to concentrate.
Stepping in front of a door at the end of the hallway, they stood together. Then he leaned around her to open the door, pressing his chest against her back. The heavy scent of his cologne made her lightheaded and his physical closeness made her uneasy, so she moved away from the contact.
“Here we are.”
Good. His voice sounded natural, with no hint of reaction to her movement.
“I’d like to introduce you to my colleague, Nick Smith.”
The guy Mr. Westin introduced her to a man who resembled a golden Viking stuffed in jeans, cowboy boots, and a fitted polo shirt that showed off his muscles.
In confusion, she used a robotic move, extended a hand toward the new man. His hand warm and sent a pleasurable sensation up her arm. The woman who handled her interview arrangements made no mention the duties she would perform for more than one boss.
“Hi. I-I’m Lydia…Lydia Snider.”
“Nice to meet you, Lydia.” Nick smiled and she felt her temperature rise about a thousand degrees. When he finally released her hand, she felt a bit woozy.
“Please have a seat. My partner Nick and I will evaluate you and your ability to fit into our group.”
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