Chapter 3

Emma

My knee shook uncontrollably. I had to rest a hand on it to keep from jiggling against the person next to me, who had already proven herself to be far more suited for the job for which we were both about to interview. She knew it, too.

It wasn’t my fault I didn’t have a high-end pant suit to rock on interview day. I’d spent the past couple of years as a waitress, and the only uniform requirement for that had been something that wouldn’t show stains. This was a whole new world. A new and scary world. If I got this job, however, I’d be well on track toward getting over Lance and moving on with my life. What said progress more than a well-paying office job at one of the biggest real estate firms in the world?

Unfortunately, the other people waiting in the reception area had the same hunger in their eyes that I did. They wanted this job bad—but I wanted it more. It would push me way out of my comfort zone, yes, but it was the only interview I’d been invited to so far, at a place where I wouldn’t have to serve or make food. I wanted to start taking steps forward in my life, and this job was my golden ticket. Which of course made me even more anxious as I listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall and waited for my name to be called.

The woman doing the interviews, and the candidate she’d just interviewed, came down the glass paneled hallway across from me and into the room. The woman glanced down at the clipboard in her hand, then looked up, searching.

“Emma Valentine?”

“Present!” I said, shooting up out of my seat.

It didn’t hit me how idiotic it looked until I saw the interviewer’s lips curl into a smile.

“Right this way,” she said.

We passed down the same glass hallway that I’d watched three people before me traverse, then entered into a brightly lit office space. There were cubicles spread across the room, each one tastefully decorated to match the general artistry of the space. People in business suits milled around the room, either chatting with their coworkers, working at their desks, or walking from place to place. It was all a little overwhelming.

Thankfully, the interview was held in an office at the back of the room. It was sparsely decorated, which led me to believe that perhaps it was the office of the person who had left, and thus provided a suitable vacant space.

“Take a seat,” the brunette instructed, stepping around to the other side of the desk and sitting down.

I sat as well, smiling in what I hoped was a pleasant, but not creepy or fake manner.

“I’m Haddie Thompson,” she said, “Mr. Westfield’s current personal assistant, and I’ll be interviewing you today.”

“Lovely to meet you, Haddie.”

I reached over and shook her hand, which seemed to please her.

“Before we get into your qualifications, Emma, let’s talk about why you’re here.”

She shuffled the papers on the desk and nudged them to the side.

“Why do you want this job?”

I gulped.

“I’ve always wanted to work in a professional office environment and I think it would be a good use of my skills.”

Haddie raised a skeptical brow.

“You’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

Though evidently unsatisfied with my answer, Haddie was ready to move on. She pulled the papers back toward her, and I saw it was my resume she was looking over.

Oh no. She already didn’t like me.

What came next was the result of me having a major WWBJD (What Would Bridget Jones Do?) moment.

“Actually, I applied for this job because I’ve been a waitress for the past two years and I’m trying this new thing where I better my life instead of taking steps backward because my crappy ex-boyfriend kicked me out of our apartment and I have nowhere to go but up,” I blurted.

Haddie’s eyes met mine again and the panic rising in my throat slowly settled. It was almost impossible to believe, but she looked impressed.

“That is unfortunate,” she said. “I had one like that. You’re right, the only thing you can do at that point is work on you.”

With the faintest of smiles, she smoothly transitioned to my resume.

The interview went on much longer than the others had seemed to. After we discussed the position and my qualifications, sparse though they were, Haddie and I just chatted for a bit. We both loved the pizza place down the street and she gave me tips on other places in the neighborhood worth checking out. I was feeling very hopeful about the whole thing, so by the time I hit the elevator, I was on another plane.

I texted Willow, even though I knew she was at school and wouldn’t be able to answer for a little while. I told her that the interview had gone well and that hopefully I’d hear soon. She surprised me by texting back immediately, and I walked across the lobby downstairs with my nose shoved practically right against the screen. I was so excited about the potential job that I didn’t care how stupid it was to get so absorbed in my phone.

I was just telling Willow that I would pick up a bottle of wine for us on the way home when the consequences of my carelessness hit me in the face. Well, more like I ran into them. Or him.

The man whose shoulder I’d just clipped was about as solid as a brick wall. In my haste to back away, I tripped over my own feet and went sprawling on the marble.

My knees hit the floor painfully, and I let out a small yelp without meaning to.

“Are you okay?” a deep, male voice asked.

I looked up at the man who I’d run into, and any words I’d been about to say dried up in my mouth.

He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man I’d ever seen. His hair was so dark it was nearly black, and he wore it neatly combed back from his forehead. He had soulful cornflower blue eyes, now sparkling with mirth, and a wicked mouth that curved sensuously as I ogled him. He was leaning down toward me, extending a hand that I hadn’t noticed until now. I swallowed hard and took it, my skin burning where it touched his. From his wide jaw, dusted with a five o’clock shadow, to his long, aristocratic nose, this guy looked like he’d walked out of a fantasy built specifically for me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and even when I was standing again I was hesitant to drop his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I noticed.”

He reached down and plucked my phone off the tile, handing it back to me.

How had I not noticed that I’d stood up without my phone? This was going from bad to worse.

“Do you work here?” the man asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

This amused him, and his eyes narrowed on me.

“You don’t know, huh? You can’t be that great of an employee, then.”

“Either the best or the worst.”

He chuckled and extended his hand, this time to shake.

“I’m Max.”

“Emma.”

Losing his touch once was bad enough. This time, I had to do everything in my power not to hang onto his hand after the handshake. Was I going crazy? I certainly felt like it.

“I only ask because I feel like I would have remembered seeing you around before,” Max said.

“Likewise.” I shamelessly let my gaze slide down his towering frame, admiring the tailored fit of his charcoal suit and the white shirt stretched across his chest beneath. His leather shoes were shined perfectly, and everything about this guy screamed money.

“Do you make a habit of bowling over innocent businessmen?” he asked.

I smiled flirtatiously.

“Only the cute ones.”

What? This was a major WWBJD moment!

“Cute?” Max made a face. “I haven’t been called cute in a good many years.”

“What do people normally call you?”

He smiled and said, “Depends on the person. If it’s my mother, ungrateful bastard is right up there.”

The laugh that rippled through me was completely genuine. I loved how easy it was talking to Max. Even though I was still nervous and a little awkward because of how damn attractive he was, I felt generally at ease with the handsome stranger.

“In that case, I only bowl over the ungrateful bastards,” I said, with a little half-smile. “Which today I guess puts you at the top of my list.”

His eyes flashed. “I don’t think I mind being there.”

Electricity zapped between us. I hadn’t gone this mushy over a guy other than Lance in a long time, and even with Lance, the attraction had never been so intense.

Ugh. Lance.

Talk about throwing a bucket of ice water over my mood.

Max looked down at his watch, a flashy Rolex that probably cost more than my dream wedding. “I’ve got a meeting to get to,” he said. “But it was nice to meet you, Emma.”

“Likewise.”

He grinned, “Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

I offered another shrug, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He stepped around me and walked toward the elevator, though the rich sound of his laugh floated back to me. It took everything in me not to turn and watch him walk away. He probably had a spectacular ass. It was a damn shame that I needed to keep at least a tiny shred of my dignity.

When I got out into the cool air, I found that my cheeks were burning. I wondered if I’d been blushing like that the whole time.

I texted Willow, filling her in on what had happened. She was excited that I’d had a flirtatious conversation with a complete stranger, and that he’d been sex on legs to boot. Maybe excited didn’t cover it. She was thrilled. She wanted me to get over Lance more than I even wanted me to get over Lance. Not to say I didn’t want to get over him, just that I didn’t see the need to rush. Getting over a heartbreak took time, right?

One thing was for certain—even if my encounter with Max had been a little embarrassing, it was a big step for me. And a good one, too. For the first time in a long time I walked down the street with my head held high, feeling like I could take whatever the world wanted to throw at me.