Page 8 of Don't Quit the Day Job

“Of course. You have to work these weekend parties with me too.” She grins as she types in her number. “What’s up with you and Max?” She looks at me with curious green eyes. “Do you know him?”

“Never met the man before in my life.” I giggle. “But if he wants to offer me a job, I’m not going to say no.”

“I thought he was going to ask you on a date. Or at least to a hotel for an hour or two.”

“Skye!”

“Sorry...” She makes a face. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Oh, I’m totally not offended.” I lean in and lower my voice. “To be honest, if he asked me to go to a hotel for an hour or two, I may have said yes. Especially if he included room service and guaranteed me the time of my life.” I press my lips together. “But it’s probably better that he didn’t, because I’d rather have a six-figure income than a one minute orgasm.”

“He looks like he can give you five minutes at least.” She giggles and I know at that moment that we will be friends for life. It’s rare to meet someone that has your same sense of humor. “Here’s your phone,” she says as she hands it back to me. “Also, don’t look now, but your new boss is standing at the door glaring at you.”

“Good.” I wink at her. “He’s seeing who the real boss is.” I laugh at her shocked expression. “Yeah, I might be getting fired before I even get my first paycheck.” I give her a quick hug. “Nice meeting you, Skye, and good luck. Maybe we can grab a drink or dinner later this week?”

“Perfect.” She nods and beams at me as she brushes back her long, red hair. There’s an impish look on her face and I realize that she’s even more stunning than I originally thought. “Oops, looks like your new boss getting impatient.” She nods toward the entrance and I turn to see Max Spector standing there, glaring at me. Our eyes meet and I feel a frisson of excitement as I head toward him. I’ve barely known this man an hour and yet somehow feel like I’ve always known him.

“What are you doing, Ms. Haversham?” There’s snark to his voice as I stop in front of him. “This is your first and last warning. While you’re working for me, you’re not to cavort with your friends.”

“Uhm, I don’t technically work for you yet. I didn’t say whether I’m taking door number two yet. Also, I wasn’t cavorting with friends. I literally only met Skye this morning as we were walking to the audition and I wanted to get her phone number because she seems like a cool person, unlike...” I let my voice trail off as I look him up and down. He raises a single eyebrow as his long silky lashes blink slowly. He’s too handsome for his own good and I’m almost certain he knows what he does to women when he makes that smoldering face. His blue eyes are distracting me from being annoyed at his grumpy attitude. I can already tell that he’s going to be a hard boss, but I’m a glutton for punishment. I love taking on hard tasks. In fact, the harder he is the better. I giggle at my dirty thought and his eyes narrow at me.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, staring at me in a way that stops my breath for a few moments. He reminds me of an old-school movie star: distinguished and untouchable to the likes of me. Though, I could get lost in his ocean-blue eyes. I don’t even love swimming, but I’d definitely take a dive into his waters. I have a feeling that even his stormy moods would find a way to carry me far away.

“Nothing. I’m ready to see my office now.” I walk past him into the corridor and pointedly look at my watch, like I’ve been waiting on him the entire time. I look back, expecting him to tell me to get out of the building, but there’s an amused expression in his eyes instead.

“You just met the redhead?” he asks in surprise, and I blink at him in confusion. For a brief moment, I wonder if he’s asking about Skye because he’s interested in her. Maybe he noticed how beautiful she is. Maybe he didn’t hire her because he wanted to date her, and he thought it was unprofessional to date his assistant. Not that I would ever date someone like him.

I’m into hot, funny, goofy guys that like to run in the park and recite moonlit monologues to statues. I like men that like to eat ice cream for dinner and fries for breakfast.

Max Spector doesn’t fit any of my wants—except that he is hot. Blazingly, smokingly hot. Okay, so he fits one of my wants. But just one.

And sure, I don’t know him, but I can tell from the way his pinstriped, navy-blue suit fits him that he is a man that doesn’t know the meaning of the word fun.

Plus, he’s a lawyer. Lawyers are dull, boring, and full of themselves. And they never appreciate my sense of humor or respect the fact that I am fine making minimum wage so long as I can chase my thespian dreams.

“Yes, like I just said, we were walking to the audit?—”

“You seemed like old friends.” He cuts me off as he walks past me, and I follow him to a large office. He stands to the side and ushers me in. On the right side of the room are four large bookshelves with red and black books. “Law treatises.” He smirks. “No Shakespeare here.”

“I have my own Shakespeare books, I don’t need yours.” I tilt my head to the side. “And besides, I’m more of an Arthur Miller girl anyway.”

“I speak my own sins: I cannot judge another. I have no tongue for it,” he says smoothly, and my jaw drops.

“You know The Crucible?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.” He winks and there’s a twinkle in his eyes as he makes his way to his large oak desk. There’s barely an empty space on the surface. Files and stacks of tabbed papers are spread everywhere. There’s a desktop computer in the middle of the desk and an open laptop next to it. Max walks over to his black leather chair, takes a seat, picks up a folder, and starts reading. I stand there awkwardly wondering if I’m expected to grab a pad and pen and say I’m ready to take notes. Or maybe I should push all the folders onto the ground, delicately make my way to the top of the desk, undo a few buttons on my blouse, and say, “Take me.” Max Spector does seem like the sort of man to get a joke, but then again, I don’t want him to think I’m actually offering up the goods.

Which I might be.

But not really because I don’t even know him and I’m a good girl.

Though I’ve been wanting to be bad for a long time.

A long time equaling the forty-five or so minutes I’ve known Max.

“Is there something I should?—”

“So you’re really not the best paralegal in the city,” he says, sighing and sitting back. “If you were, you would know that I don’t like being disturbed when I’m reading case files.” His tone is full of judgment, and while I want to keep my mouth shut, I just can’t. I hate condescending pricks. And just because he’s offering me the largest salary I’ve ever earned, I’m not going to put up with his crap.

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