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The weight of my anxiety seemed to lift as I walked down the corridor. Each step felt lighter, more buoyant. I felt a sense of pride and excitement growing within me.
Having Tony on the interview panel was somewhat disconcerting, considering the intimacy we had shared in such a short time. His intense gaze bore into me throughout the entire meeting, a constant reminder of our time at the cabin. But somehow, I managed to maintain my composure. Our unspoken pact to remain professional held strong.
Tony was different from the man I had spent intimate time with at the cabin. His demeanor was more serious, his questions sharp and to the point, but there was still a hint of the warmth I had grown familiar with. He was thoroughly professional, yet I could see that same glint in his eyes that I had seen at the cabin.
My thoughts drifted back to our brief time together. The memory of his touch still lingered on my skin, the sound of his laughter still echoed in my ears, and the sight of his smile still imprinted in my mind. It was difficult to compartmentalize those feelings, especially when he was right in front of me.
As I retraced my steps down the hospital corridor, images of Tony in his sharp suit flashed through my mind. He had looked every bit the consummate professional, but the sight of him in that sleek ensemble had left an entirely different kind of impression.
His suit was charcoal grey, expertly tailored to his physique, accentuating the broad set of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist. The crisp, white shirt he wore underneath contrasted starkly with the darkness of his suit, making his strikingly brown eyes seem even more intense. The perfectly knotted maroon silk tie added a touch of sophistication, accentuating his chiseled jawline and lending a more distinguished look to his handsome face.
The Tony I saw in the interview room was a stark contrast from the man I spent four unforgettable days with at the cabin. Gone were the casual clothes and the laid-back attitude, replaced with an air of authority and poise. Yet despite his stern exterior, I could still detect the warmth within, the hint of a charming smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
His professionalism was admirable, even alluring. He commanded the room effortlessly, his authoritative voice resonating with confidence. Every gesture, every word, every glance was measured and purposeful, further solidifying his image as a competent and respected professional.
But it wasn’t just his professional demeanor that caught my attention. It was the tantalizing blend of his masculine presence, his sharp intellect, and that raw sexual magnetism that had first drawn me to him at the cabin. Seeing Tony in that setting only amplified my attraction to him, stirring a subtle, underlying unease that was hard to ignore.
As I drove through the city, the twinkle of the Christmas lights adorning the streets brought a magical glow to the bustling cityscape. Each festive display seemed to ignite the night, casting vibrant hues of red, green, silver, and gold in every direction. But as enchanting as the scenery was, my mind was elsewhere, fixated on the memory of Tony’s probing gaze in the interview room.
As the hum of the city melted into the background, a specific moment from the interview echoed in my mind. Tony had asked a particularly challenging question. His eyes had locked with mine as he leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth yet filled with intrigue.
“Ms. Langdon,” he’d began, folding his hands on the table, “you mentioned earlier about improving scheduling and controlling overtime. But how do you plan to deal with resistance to change from the team? What’s your strategy for maintaining morale while implementing new systems?”
I remember feeling a rush of adrenaline at his question. It wasn’t just the complexity of the query; it was the fact that it was Tony who had posed it. Being put on the spot by a man like him was exhilarating, to say the least. His reputation as a leader, his brilliance in his field, and his undeniable charm all made his scrutiny more intense, more challenging.
I felt a spark of satisfaction at recalling how I’d answered him. I’d spoken confidently about fostering open communication, encouraging team involvement in decision-making, and providing necessary training to ensure a smooth transition. But the real thrill was seeing Tony’s subtle nod of approval, his eyes reflecting a glint of admiration.
As the city lights and Christmas cheer reflected off my windshield, blending with the memory of Tony’s intense gaze, a thrill zipped through me. In fact, he was all I could think about as I finished the drive to my house, my pussy clenching each time I thought of him in that suit, those chocolate-brown eyes locked onto mine.
I sighed as I unlocked the front door of my house, my gaze shifting to the barren front yard. I usually had my outdoor Christmas decorations out by early December. I loved the festive spirit they brought, turning my simple house into a wonderland of twinkling lights and holiday spirit. But the memory of last year's near-catastrophic tumble from the ladder had caused me to procrastinate.
Maybe I should hire someone this year,I thought to myself, stepping inside and kicking off my shoes. The thought of a professional taking over the task held a certain appeal—no more icy ladders, no more wrestling with tangled strings of lights.
"Sadie!" I called, greeted by the familiar thumping of my lovable black lab’s tail against the wooden floor. As I bent to scratch behind her ears, her wet nose nudged against my hand. Her happy greeting, her warm, trusting eyes never failed to put a smile on my face, no matter what kind of day I had.
The moment I settled into the comfortable embrace of my couch, my phone began to ring from where I had dropped it onto the coffee table. I leaned forward to check the screen, seeing that it was a call from Mom, a smile spreading across my face as I snatched up the phone to answer.
“Hey, Mom!”
"Jude, baby! How are you?" Mom's excited voice burst through the phone.
I laughed, already feeling the warmth that a conversation with my mother always brought. "I'm good, Mom. Tired, but good."
"You sound like you just ran a marathon. Are you still at the hospital? I told you, dear, you work too much."
"Actually, I just got home. I had a job interview today, remember?"
"Oh, right! How did that go?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity and concern.
I couldn't help but beam, even though she couldn't see it. "I think it went really well. I'm hopeful."
"That's wonderful, darling!" Her joy mirrored mine, as it always did. We chatted a bit more about the interview, my potential new responsibilities, and the changes it would bring. After a while, the conversation shifted to the holidays.
"Speaking of changes," she ventured, a teasing note in her voice. "Your father and I have been thinking about Christmas..."
I chuckled. “I’ve got a feeling where this is going.”
Mom laughed in response. “That’s because you’ve got my brain. Anyway, I’ll get right to it. Your father and I would love to have you home for Christmas, Jude," Mom began, her tone edging on hopeful persuasion. "You haven't spent Christmas in Oregon in years."
