Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Some would call it enchanting.
Not me.
I didn’t do enchanting. Or sassy-mouthed women who wanted to work for me. No matter how pretty they were. I’d drawn that line in the sand a long time ago, and I never stepped over it.
I didn’t date at all, to be honest.
Especially this woman.
Never.
This wasn’t a good idea. I would let her finish the interview and get Laura to start a new search next week. She could gloat, and I would keep my end of the bargain.
Ms. Myers’s throat clearing made me realize I had been staring. She slid the paper in front of me, tapping the third column. “I don’t know much about pricing, but this plant price is listed incorrectly. I doubt it’s that much cheaper than the other ones. That would throw the budget off completely.”
I had to say, I was impressed. No one else had spotted that. I had tried to make it simple, but she was the only one who’d noticed the price discrepancy.
I handed her a spreadsheet. She said she rocked Excel.
“Error,” was all I said. I studied her as she looked over the columns.
It took her thirty seconds. “Incorrect sum in the fifth column.”
I sat back, nodding.
She had been late, seemed like a bit of a disaster, but she was the best of all the candidates.
Dammit.
“The salary isn’t negotiable.”
“I didn’t expect it to be.”
“A month trial period.”
“I won’t need it. You’ll be lost without me after the first week.”
I lifted an eyebrow in surprise. She was confident.
“I don’t do Sundays.”
“Off to church, are you?” I asked.
“I spend Sundays with my dad at the home. I would rather not throw his schedule out of whack. If it is important, I can adjust, but I would prefer not to.”
“Noted.” I paused. “There may be some travel. Most certainly overtime.”
“That’s fine.”
Silence fell as I made my decision.
The entirely wrong one.
“You start Monday. Be here at eight. You work until five. You get an hour for lunch and breaks—at least, that is what your employment contract will say. You’ll get what I give you and say thank you.” I met her gaze, her lovely eyes dancing with happiness. “I work hard. I expect you to—”
“Work harder.” She finished my sentence. “I know the drill.”
“You answer to me and no one else. You work for me. I don’t do the friend thing. I’m your boss. I tell you to jump, you do it.”
“I’m kind of short. I hope you don’t expect much height. And my butt is kinda round, so that doesn’t work in my favor.”
I had felt that butt as she’d lain on top of me. My hands had slid over the round cheeks. I could argue with her that it did work in her favor—if this weren’t a job interview.
I stared at her, not smiling.
“No jokes. Okay, then,” she muttered.
“When you get here on Monday, you’ll be sent to HR. You’ll fill out the paperwork, get your pass, and report to me immediately after. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“I probably will on Monday.”
“Fine. If so, we’ll deal with them on Monday.”
I stood, holding out my hand. “Welcome to Balanced Designs.”
She slid off her chair, confirming to me that her feet hadn’t touched the floor. She shook my hand, and I frowned at the feeling of her small hand clasped within mine. It felt oddly right there. I had to look down at her, and I realized I was well over a foot taller than she was. Which reminded me she had no shoes.
“I’ll call you a cab to get home.”
“No, I’m fine.”
I glanced at the window. “It’s raining again, and you have no shoes.”
“No, really. I’ll just break off the other heel and walk to the bus. I’m fine.” She shook my hand again, her grip tight. “Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Bane.”
Then before I could speak, she turned and hurried away. I glanced at the chair she’d vacated, rolling my eyes. She’d left her scarf. I rounded the desk, picking it up, and went after her, but I missed her.
Deciding not to chase after her, I returned to my office and inexplicably held the scarf to my nose. Her fragrance, the one I had smelled in her hair, clung to the diaphanous material. Light, floral, and citrusy, her perfume was fresh and feminine. Sexy in an innocent way.
For some reason, I wondered if it would be more potent inhaled from behind her ear or at the base of her throat. Or between her—
I shook my head to stop that thought.
She was my new assistant, and I didn’t do relationships with employees. I barked out a laugh as I picked up my coat. I didn’t do relationships with anyone.
I headed to the elevator, hoping I hadn’t just made a mistake, yet somehow knowing I had. Ms. Myers was far too pretty and quirky to work for me. I needed an old, matronly woman with zero distractions.