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Her head lulls to the side in ayou’re probably rightmotion.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know for certain he isn’t coming.”
“I figured as much, which is why I ordered dinner.” She places both hands on her hips. “Are you sure you want to hunker down here all by yourself? I’ll be leaving for home soon. Everyone else has gone. Building security is downstairs, and they are just a phone call away.”
I know she means well, but this is corporate America, and it’s still a man’s world. She should know that better than anyone, being in the position she is. Tests to measure my capabilities will only continue to come as I fight for my place on the ladder of success.
Rescheduling a planned pitch would be the first major strike against me.
If he told me I had to pitch today, I would. No matter what time it is.
Hell, I’ll wait in this damn office until midnight if I have to.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t have much of a choice,” I say, blowing out a breath. “He begins interviews tomorrow with the potential account managers. I have one last chance to convince him I can do the job.”
Her lips form a thin line, and I can practically hear her inner thoughts.
She doesn’t think I stand a chance, but she’s too polite to say so.
“Well, good night, then,” she says, turning toward the door. “If I hear anything, I’ll call your office line.”
“Thanks, Shelby. And thanks for the food. I really appreciate it.”
She offers one last smile and heads out, leaving me in the quiet building alone.
I don’t know how long I continued to eat and work, but the sun set long, long ago. Still, there’s no word from Charles or Shelby. I’ve settled in for a long night, determined to sleep here to prove that I’m the best for the job.
On a moan, I swipe at the air, trying to shoo away the fly or whatever other nuisance is swarming around my face. That simple move brings awareness to my stiff joints and neck. One eye flutters open, and I take in my surroundings. My cheek is in a pool of my own drool on top of my desk at Cavendish Group.
Very sophisticated, Raven
I shut my one eye that bothered to open, groaning at the knowledge that I’d fallen asleep here. For a moment, I consider just giving in and allowing myself to fall back asleep, but I know it won’t happen a second time. I need to get up and attempt to get home and, hopefully, capture a couple of hours of sleep in my own bed.
I stretch my arms over my head, yawning deeply, and yelp at the figure standing next to me.
“Sonofabitch!” I screech, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Charles Cavendish stands just to the side of my desk, staring down at me with a smirk.
“Miss Bennett. Care to explain why you’re still here at”—he looks at his Rolex, eyebrow rising at what he sees—“two o’clock in the morning?”
The scent of scotch and mint infiltrates my senses, tumbling my stomach into a knot of nerves. Tingles race over my arms and down my spine as I look into the stormy blue eyes of the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve dreamed this. Conjured him into my mind, complete with the heated look he’s currently singeing me with. If I reach out and pull him to me, would he come willingly? Would he lay me out over this desk and have his way with me like I may have just been dreaming? I want that, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“Don’t look at me like that, Raven. It won’t end well for you, sunshine.”
My breath hitches at the way he says my name. His husky voice washes over me like my very own weighted blanket, and I nuzzle into it, feeling the tingles intensify.
Snap out of the lust haze, woman.
I internally wage war against my traitorous senses, pissed I’m sitting here making an ass of myself. Shaking my head, I busy my hands, straightening the paperwork spread across my desk. I’m grateful it’s only a copy of my proposal and that the real thing isn’t currently soaking in my drool.
“I’m sorry. I waited to pitch you on the Diosa plan, and I—”
“Dozed off?” he supplies, and I nod. “Is that the only reason you’re here, Raven?”
My eyes narrow on him, and that’s when I realize he’s half-dressed. His white collared shirt is half-untucked with the first three buttons undone, showing a bit of his muscled chest. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and I swallow as I take him in. He’s holding a glass of amber liquid. Likely the bourbon I smelled.
