Kane

I curse under my breath as I see the look on Elen’s face.

I wasn’t sure if she would be one of the people on the interview panel. I knew there were four directors, and I thought there was a chance there might only be one or two of them carrying out the interviews.

It was a stupid assumption. I’ve almost certainly blown it now, and that’s a real shame, because I was interested in the job and I’ve done a lot of preparation for the interview.

She still hasn’t taken my hand, and her cheeks have turned scarlet.

Seb looks at me, standing with my arm outstretched, then at her. “Something wrong?” He looks confused. “Do you two know each other?”

I don’t say anything. I don’t want to embarrass her, and I don’t know if she’d rather pretend last night didn’t happen. I look into her eyes, though, and give her a small smile. She looks beautiful today, gorgeous in her suit and with her hair and makeup done, although I have to admit that a tiny part of me preferred her au naturel.

She swallows, looks down at my hand, and finally extends her own to shake mine. “No,” she says, her voice low. “I thought I recognized him, but I don’t. Sorry.”

“No worries.” I hide my relief, knowing I’m not out of the woods. Even if she’s going to let me interview, I doubt she’ll want me to have the job. She won’t want me around as a reminder of what happened last night.

We all sit, and Sebastian starts talking, giving me the spiel I’m sure he gave to the rest of the candidates, a general introduction to the firm and the position, meant to relax everyone and let me gather my thoughts. I glance at Elen, whose eyes are downcast. What’s she thinking?

Sebastian is halfway through a sentence when she suddenly gets to her feet.

“Actually,” she says, “I wonder if I might have a moment with Kane alone?”

The others stare at each other, then at me. I sit back and link my fingers. I’m not going to explain if she’s not.

“Okay…” Seb rises and the other two guys follow. “We’ll be outside--just call us when you’re done.” They leave the room, Caleb shooting me a curious look before he closes the door.

Elen circles the table, and comes to stand beside me. I go to get up, but she shakes a finger at me. “No, stay there, please.”

“Okay,” I say, amused. She doesn’t want me looking down on her. Fair enough.

“You knew who I was,” she accuses. “Last night.”

“Yes.”

The color fades from her cheeks. I think she might be about to punch me.

“Did you follow me there?” she snaps.

Jeez, is that what she’s thinking? “No, absolutely not.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you followed me there in the hope of gaining some insight about the company.”

I eye her evenly. It will do no good to get angry, and anyway, that’s not my way. She’s upset and embarrassed. I have to explain myself without making her regret what happened last night.

“Firstly, I’ve just told you that I didn’t,” I tell her. “And secondly, what would be the point when it was likely to be you who would be interviewing me today?”

“So why didn’t you tell me upfront that you knew who I am?”

I hesitate. “Honestly? At first, I didn’t recognize you, not when I sat down. You looked quite… different last night from your photo on the Hearktech website. And then, when the penny dropped, I didn’t want to embarrass you. I wasn’t even sure if you’d remember me this morning.”

Her cheeks flood with color again. Great job, idiot, I scold myself.

“You swear?” she whispers. “You swear that you didn’t invite me back to your place with the aim of blackmailing me into giving you the job?”

“I swear. If you want me to walk out the door now, I will. The last thing I wanted was to upset you.”

“Did we…” She chews her bottom lip. “You know…”

Aw, the poor girl. “No, Elen. I don’t have sex with comatose women. I took you to my place because you said you’d taken medication and you were upset and you’d had a few to drink. I didn’t know where you lived and you couldn’t remember, and I thought the safest place for you would be with me, where I could keep an eye on you.”

She stares at me as if she can’t quite believe her ears. “Some men wouldn’t have cared that I was practically incoherent. Some men would have taken advantage of that.”

“Not me. I consider myself a gentleman.”

She studies me for a long moment. Then she says, “All the time?”

Is she flirting with me? The anger has faded from her eyes.

“Unless the occasion demands something different,” I tell her.

Now her lips are definitely curving up. She perches on the edge of the desk and we survey each other for a while. Although today she seems less vulnerable, that inner light of beauty still radiates through her, revealing itself in her clear skin, her bright eyes, the je ne sais quoi she has that I’m sure draws all eyes in the room to her.

“Thank you,” she says.

I exhale, blowing out the tension I’d been feeling up until that point. “You’re welcome.”

“I had a migraine, and I’d taken some new tablets,” she explains. “I shouldn’t have been drinking, but, well, I felt the need to… unwind.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I told you last night that a breakup is a loss, and you need to grieve.”

“I feel better this morning.”

“I’m glad.”

“I think you were right. I was upset that the relationship had ended. That I’d failed to make it work. That I’m single again. That I’ve wasted several years. I mean, I know I haven’t, not really, because it wasn’t all bad, but I should have acknowledged ages ago that we weren’t right for each other. I could have spent that time looking for the right person, you know?”

“Yeah. But then again, I think things happen for a reason.”

“A fatalist, huh?”

“I don’t believe we’re powerless to influence the future. I think opportunities are put in our path, and it’s up to us whether we take advantage of them or not.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me, though.”

“No. I’m already regretting that.”

She laughs, and I smile.

“I should have told you that I recognized you,” I say softly. “I’m sorry--it wasn’t fair.”

“Maybe. Your noble actions offset that, anyway.”

“I’m glad.”

Our eyes meet. She’s beautiful. I want to ask her out. I want to pull her into my arms, push her up against the wall, and kiss her. She was soft and slender in my arms last night. I want to lie like that again, but with her conscious and willing, and naked, preferably.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmurs.

“Sorry. Should I go?”

She chews her lip. “I think we can be adult about this, can’t we?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Can we pretend it never happened? Start over again?”

“I’m happy to give it a try,” I say, although I won’t be able to erase the memory of holding her last night. Of her breath fanning across my chest. The smell of her hair. The curve of her waist beneath my hand.

“All right. I’ll call the guys in,” she says and rises. Her gaze lingers on mine, though.

“I do appreciate what you did,” she tells me. And then she walks past me, and opens the door.