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My heart slammed against my sternum. I tried to pull any details I could remember about Blake Carson out of my head. Brilliant. Runaway success with his glass innovation. Took Boston by storm. That was about it. I was more of a sea town girl. I liked my little corner of the world. I was close enough to Boston to get culture when I wanted it, but for the most part, I just wanted to be in my workshop.
His face remained impassive, but those golden hazel eyes were finally firing. The indifference had fallen away, and I knew that I had one chance to impress him. He was new money. He was still proving himself.
Probably would be until he was fifty in this city.
“I’ll leave you alone to be brilliant and will run this place like the billion-dollar company I know it is. I’m organized, personable where you obviously are not, and can read a person within five minutes of meeting them.”
“So, your interview technique is to insult me?”
I swallowed, and though I was pretty sure it was audible, I lifted my chin. “Yes. Because obviously, you’re a bear. Or you’d have an assistant sitting out there right now. And you wouldn’t have papers scattered on what is usually a pristine desk. Am I close?”
He stood, and I prayed the jackrabbit who had taken up residence in my chest couldn’t be heard. He walked around the desk and sat on the edge in front of me. He peered down at me, and I suddenly wished for the impassive eyes again.
Being scrutinized was not my favorite thing. I’d never acted like a typical rich kid. Evidently that was a good thing since I wasn’t anymore.
He glanced at my hands, and I curled them into my palms. Chipped nail polish and burn scars did not say office manager. I was more comfortable with my iron frames and blow torches than I was a computer, but I could use one—and use it well.
I’d only killed a few keyboards over the years. Not the whole computer or anything.
“And why do you want to fix me?”
I opened my mouth. He really hadn’t asked me that, had he? “Excuse me?”
“If I’m such a bear, as you’ve said, why would you want to come in here and fix my office?”
Right. Office.
Not him.
I thought of all the old panes of glass I worked with, the renovations I’d specialized in, the salvaged glass that I used to make my stained glass windows. “Because it’s what I do. I fix the ugly and make it beautiful. In this case…the world around you so you can do what you love.”
He stood, and I had to fight to keep still. He was way too close. Close enough that I could smell mint and citrus with a hint of spice. And when the silk blend of his pants whispered across the side of my hand, I closed my eyes.
What the hell was I doing?
He walked to the door and opened it.
Obviously, he was showing me the door. Of course he was. I was insane to think I could waltz in here to talk to him, let alone con my way into a job. And for what? A chance to show him I was worthy of my grandmother’s house?
If I sold my entire inventory of glass, I might be able to make six months of payments on a mortgage. If I was lucky. Maybe I should just come clean and ask him.
I scrubbed my palms down my thighs and stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Carson.” I had to pass him to get out the door. My skin prickled and nerves jittered the closer I got to him.
Everything about my trip into Boston had been a bad idea. This was just the topper. Having him near me was like playing with my patina mix on copper—too volatile and leaving me a moment away from ruin.
I lifted my chin and had to turn to the side to get through the door.
The customized doorway should have been more than enough room for both of us if not for his extremely wide shoulders. I’m very tiny. Okay, not very, but compared to him I felt like a child—with not-so-childlike reactions.
Yep. Time to go.
I couldn’t look at him. Not now. I wasn’t sure I could deal with those arctic eyes buried under what should only be warmth. Who created anything gold and green only to end up with frostbite?
Okay, I really needed to get a grip.
My eye-line was level with his tie. Now that I was this close, little details came clear. The perfect knot was slightly askew as if it had been loosened in frustration. When he’d come out of the other room, he’d been a different man. Tired and almost…defeated. Then there was that alarmingly interesting flash of ink under the staid layer of businessman.
The guy was the definition of dichotomy.
