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“Absolutely,” Reagan says. “If I can answer any questions about my qualifications while you browse, please hit me with them.”
Charles looks over the paper with a raised brow, and I slap his thigh under the table to wipe that look off his face. It’s light enough to get his attention but not alert Reagan.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, but when I don’t say anything, he flips through Mr. Miller’s résumé.
“How about you tell us a little bit about yourself.” I start the conversation feeling wholly uncomfortable.
“I had a short stint playing as a quarterback in the NFL,” he tells me. “But an injury to my back cut that short.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, and Reagan smiles.
“It’s all good. I went back to school. Graduated from Stanford with my MBA.”
“That’s... impressive.” I can’t keep the awe from my voice. Reagan Miller is good-looking, talented, and smart. He’s a catch, and even I can clearly see that.
“Thank you.” His husky voice is low and sexy, and I giggle.
Like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Reagan grins, and my cheeks warm. Charles clears his throat, shooting me a quick scowl.
“You have no experience.” It isn’t a question. Charles is being rude.
“Actually, I’ve been working as a medical sales rep for the past five years. It’s there on my résumé.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. Reagan isn’t allowing Charles to bully him around, and it’s very amusing.
“How were you able to work and get your MBA?” Charles asks, sounding like a mega jerk.
“I already had my bachelor’s degree from UCLA, and that’s all that was needed for the medical job. The hours are flexible, and I was able to juggle both school and work.” He leans over, pointing at his résumé. “As you can see, I was President’s Club the past three years while maintaining a 3.7 GPA.”
“You do realize that the position you applied for is a marketing analyst. You would be taking a deduction in pay. Why would you want that?”
“Yes, sir, I realize that. I’m looking to get out of the med device business. It’s cutthroat and demanding.”
“And you think this job isn’t going to be just as cutthroat and demanding?”
I kick Charles in the shin. His head turns to me, and he glares.
I don’t know why he’s being so combative. This was his choice. He’s the one who squeezed Reagan in for an interview.
“No, sir. Not at all. I know it’s a tough gig. I’ve always been interested in advertising sales, and Cavendish’s reputation is growing. I want to be a part of it. I think it would offer a unique experience with huge growth opportunities within the company.”
“Very well stated,” I offer, hoping to make Reagan feel a little more comfortable.
“And if I can be frank with you, money isn’t really an issue, as I invested wisely with the NFL salary given the two years I played. I’m willing to take a pay cut to get the experience in an industry I’m passionate about.”
“I love to hear that,” I say, ignoring the scowl on Charles’s face.
Charles grunts. “All right. Let’s start the questions.”
I look at him in confusion, and the next thing I know, he’s full throttle into an interview method we already discussed would not be the right way for these types of discussions.
Steam is practically coming out of my ears. I’m so angry.
The way he’s acting is absolutely ludicrous, yet Reagan handles him like a superstar, answering every question he’s asked like a pro. My anger quickly melts away as I sit back with a smirk, enjoying the way Reagan is soaring and Charles is getting pricklier.
We both shake Reagan’s hand when the interview is over, and I escort him to the lobby.
“Thank you for coming today, Reagan. It was very nice meeting you.”
