Maybe he was a real demon in writing. He couldn't cope with meetings, but his memos were killers.

Rodney returned to the table and placed a small swimming pool of cappuccino in front of me. Seriously, I could have used it as a hot tub. I promised myself I wouldn't drink all of it, not if I wanted to sleep that week.

He took his seat, waited for me to take a sip, then said, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

"Yeah, about a zillion. All of them, in fact. Your e-mails weren't very informative.

You didn't even tell me what kind of company you're with."

The two men exchanged a look I couldn't read, then Rod turned back to me and said, "It's hard to fit that kind of information into an e-mail."

"It's also difficult to describe our business in a way that doesn't sound alarming,"

Owen added, in the first full sentence I'd heard him speak. It seemed he did okay when he was on a business footing. Maybe he just didn't know how to talk to women.

Then I realized what he'd said about the business sounding alarming. Sex slavery, I knew it. I cleared my throat so my voice wouldn't crack and said, "Urn, what business are you in?"

They looked at each other again. Owen said, still in business mode, "We research and develop products that facilitate convenience for a specific population, as well as monitor and supervise the use of our products in the public marketplace."

That didn't tell me much, other than that it didn't sound like I was going to be shipped off to some South Seas isle to be a tribal ruler's love slave, unless that was the population they provided convenience for. A sex slave could be a convenience.

But I didn't get that vibe here. No one would use business buzzwords to describe sex slavery. "Like software?" I asked, hoping I was in the right ballpark.

Owen smiled and blushed. "Yes, very much like software, but our business predates the computer industry by many decades."

"I see," I said, even though I didn't, not really. But I didn't care much what business they were in as long as it wasn't immoral, illegal, or dangerous to me. I barely knew what the company I currently worked for did. "And what would my role in all this be?"

Rod leaned forward, made eye contact with me and held it for a second before he said, "You'd be more in the administration end of things. You wouldn't have to concern yourself with the actual products, just the running of the business itself.

You'd function in an advisory capacity to our executives."

I wasn't sure what I could advise anyone about, unless it was which fertilizer to use on which kind of plant, how to know just when to pay the bills to maximize bank interest while not making a late payment, or where to put commas in a memo, but I knew the business code phrases as well as anyone did. "In other words, I'd be an administrative assistant, like I am now."

Owen looked down at the table and shredded his paper napkin with his fingers.

"Sort of, but not really," he said.

"This particular position is unique to our company," Rod said smoothly as he flashed a smile at a tall blonde entering the coffee shop. She eyed him appreciatively in return. I suspected he'd have her phone number before she left. He returned his attention to me. "It's difficult to describe this position, although it does involve some of the usual administrative functions. But believe me, this is a job you were bom for.

You'll never find another job that so uniquely suits your abilities."

"But how do you even know what my abilities are?" Only then did I remember the resume in my briefcase. This wasn't going like any other job interview I'd ever been on. "I do have a resume with me," I said as I bent to retrieve it. "Sorry, but I only made one copy."

Rod took it from me, skimmed over it absently, then handed it to Owen, who studied it more intently. "You certainly have an impressive record," Rod said, "but that's not why we want you. We've already thoroughly screened you and determined that you have the attributes we need for this position."

"Oh, so that's why you've been stalking me." Out of the comer of my eye I saw Owen grin, a totally unself-conscious grin that said, "You are so busted." If he was adorable with his blushes and shy smiles, now he was downright gorgeous. I would have been willing to scrub toilets to work in the same building with this man, but I tried to get my libido under check. That was no way to go about finding a job, even if men had been using that method to hire secretaries for ages.

"Testing you," Rod corrected.