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But it’s too late. One smile of hers and I’m done for. Those turned-up mauve lips light up her entire face, make her green eyes crinkle in the corners, her freckled nose crinkle too; even her gap-toothed teeth and every golden hair on her head seem to beam.
Everything else falls away.
All I know is that I want her. I want her bad.
Landon clears his throat, and I brace myself against the chair. Attractive or not, we still have an interview to give. With any luck, she’ll flub it and the choice will be easy. On the other hand, I just want to get these interviews finished and get out of here.
“Why do you want this position?” I ask, swiping a brief glance at her.
“I love cinematography and I’ve loved your work from the start. Evergreen Avenue, then that special on flamingoes, plus the show where they were all cooped up in the cabin, I’ve watched every one of them dozens of times. Opportunities like this don’t come every day—sometimes they don’t even come every lifetime.”
My back teeth grind together. Alright, she’s good, I’ll give her that.
Landon shoves a resume under my nose and I scan it briefly. Harley is just as young as she looks: she’s fresh out of college.
“Why do you think you’d be a good fit?” I ask her next.
“I might be new, but I know my stuff. I was top in my class at USC School of Cinematic Arts, and even now on my days off I’m always learning and practicing. I love what I do. Oh, and I don’t quit. Ever.”
The intensity in her tone makes me look up. I swallow.
Her face is even more driven, which makes her look even sexier. And the way she’s acing all these questions… fuck.
“You have any questions for us?” Noah asks.
He likes that one, claims it’s the only half-interesting question, thanks to some terrified man who started crying two hours back and then basically ran away.
“What do you want?”
She looks straight at me. My mouth falls open. She can’t possibly…
Catching my eye, her mouth falls open too. She recovers herself quickly, though.
“I mean, for the job—what are you looking for?”
“You,” Emerson says, then chuckles. At my glare, he coughs. “Joking, of course. I’ll let my big business whiz brothers answer this one.”
“Thanks.” Landon’s ironic look is no less harsh than my glare was. “We are looking for someone who’s passionate in what they do, a team player, someone who isn’t afraid to get a bit dirty.”
An awkward silence settles as I force myself not to look her way. A bit dirty—he has to use this phrase with our hottest applicant yet, when I’m already having trouble concentrating? Seriously?
And I thought today couldn’t get more frustrating.
“Meaning,” I cut in, forcing unwanted images of Harley, bent over my knees right here and now out of my head, “the rainforest can be dangerous, even to the experienced. There’s disease, rabid animals, shitty weather, the works.”
Her chin lifts. “I can handle it.”
Then, all innocence as she looks to me, “After all, you’re going, aren’t you?”
“Where did you hear that?” I ask.
A half-shrug. “One of the women you interviewed earlier mentioned it to us while walking out.”
My brothers scowl, while I have difficulty holding my smile back. They probably planned to try to talk me out of the decision later, but me stepping in as producer is looking like more and more of a certainty.
This Harley isn’t just hot, she’s on the ball. Way too young for me, but I’ll be too busy in the producer’s chair to be distracted anyway. About fucking time I get to do something I like for a change, too.
“Alright, you’re in,” I say.
My brothers heave a relieved sigh—clearly, I’m not the only one who’s fed up with all the interviews.
“Great!” she says.
We shake hands, her fingers looking even smaller entwined with mine, although her firm handshake is no pushover. Electricity zaps through my fingers. I push it down.
Not the time.
“We’re happy to have you as part of Storm Media,” I recite the spiel Dad developed who-knows how many years back. Repeating it now feels stupid and trite, especially considering what I suspect about Dad, but it’s all I’ve got, so I go with it: “For us, being punctual, true to our word and a real team are the most important things. But for us, team means something a bit different. We like to work as equals—at least in the suggestion and idea sense. So, if there’s anything you think we could do differently or better, just tell us.”
“Really?” Harley tilts her head at me.
“Really,” I say, looking to the door.
I’m too tired and horny for this. This is not the normal response the spiel gets.
She bites her lip. “Well, if being punctual is the most important thing for you, then you should hold to it. My interview time was…” she glances at her phone, “scheduled an hour ago. I get it that you guys are in a time crunch, but then maybe you should change your tenets?”
