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“I’m not some bastard who can’t keep focused.”
“Not exactly, but there’s a reason I’m here to keep you in line too. You remember the fountain incident three years ago?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think we’d get caught.”
“Well, Rupert Martindale of Orbit has eyes and ears everywhere. So, interview this girl, rubber stamp it all you want, but don’t take a taste.”
“I’d never hurt Tammy like that. I mean, fuck. You’re making out like this girl’s a perfect ten.”
Jonathan whistled. “For your taste buds? She’s totally the perfect drug. Do you want me to sit in on the interview too? Just in case?”
“You have a teleconference with good old Martindale in ten, so I don’t think that’d help. Besides, you wouldn’t want to watch all the passionate, stupidly obvious sex I’m about to have.” Okay, so I was a little huffy, but I’m not some walking prick. I can handle my shit. Granted, a few times I’d overindulged or done crazy things publicly, but it had been years since the fountain incident and over five since that glass elevator and… Shit.
Jonathan did have a point.
I hated when he was right.
So, naturally, like the hardheaded idiot I was, I dug in.
“I can handle one little girl all by myself. Now send her in.”
***
I could admit it.
My ego had gotten me into roughly a metric fuck ton of problems in my life. Granted, the reason I was a damn brilliant CEO was because I had a great gut, surrounded myself with the best teams, and was just smart enough to jump back out of any mistakes I’d made, but my ego had driven me to dumbassery more than once. When Selena walked in the door, I knew exactly why Jonathan had been nervous. And why my dick was instantly hard.
She wasn’t dressed in anything less than utterly professional wear. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun, and she had a blazer, white blouse, and narrow skirt on. It wasn’t too tight, but it definitely hugged her curves in ways that made me want to clear my desk and take her right then and there. I crossed my ankle over my knee and told my little head to shut the fuck up. Would have helped if the blood wasn’t flowing like the Colorado River down to my cock. She was totally proper and prim, screamed “kid on her first interview,” and yet she was also rocking this naughty librarian vibe that my brain could not get over. Add in her olive colored skin, ample chest, and her sparkling hazel eyes, and she made most of the women I’d been seeing lately seem like fucking Quasimodos.
Idly, I wondered if the only reason this girl wasn’t into more than just writing about fashion was that at barely five feet, she could never model for anything. Too bad, because Selena was clearly a goddess.
A goddess who’s twenty-one at best, my daughter’s best friend, and just some college kid. Come on, don’t think with your dick again, man. Don’t give Jonathan the satisfaction.
And Jonathan was always the type who’d want to rub it in.
“Hello, Mr. Duncan. I really appreciate you meeting me on short notice.”
Her voice was hushed, and that struck me too. In fact, things started to actually pierce my attention, even through my lust-filled haze. She was saying all the right things as I took her hand and gestured for her to sit in the chair in front of my desk, but her eyes didn’t come close to looking at mine, and her voice trembled.
Did she even want to be here or had Tammy pushed her into it?
I frowned and quirked my head at her. “Why are you here, Miss?”
“Selena Cole,” she said. “I’m sorry if Tammy kind of threw this at you. I’ve… It’s just been a long day, already, and she decided this would be the best thing.
I know that it’s kind of a fast pressure thing, but I have my portfolio with me.” She picked up her messenger bag and pulled out a bundle of papers. “I have some of the pieces I’ve written for the paper and some directly from the fashion blog I maintain. I also have a few pieces I’ve just edited for other students.”
I perused the articles. The ones for NYU were more about student affairs or even current issues and had a drier tone, but I was pleasantly surprised to find a sardonic edge to her fashion blog articles. The girl who’d written those pieces had spine, gumption. The girl before me, gorgeous as she was, seemed to lack that spark. As much as I cared about my daughter, I wondered if I was getting played. It just didn’t seem that the nervous girl in front of me, who frankly looked like her dog had just died, could be the same sarcastic wit behind these fashion pieces.
And no, I didn’t know shit about fashion, but I knew what made me chuckle.
What I liked.
Still, uneasy, I pushed the papers back to her. “I know that Tammy made big promises, and I confess what she’s told me about your training is encouraging. I went to NYU too, and I know they have some proud institutions, like their paper. Not just anyone’s going to be the lead editor on it.”
She frowned, a ridge emerging between her brows. “That tone doesn’t exactly say ‘Welcome to Swagger.’ ”
“No, it doesn’t. The truth is that dedication and training and talent are all things that matter, and they’re important. But so are instincts and attitude. My instincts are telling me that you can’t be the woman who wrote these pieces because, frankly, you look like you want to be anywhere else.”
