Page 20 of Worth the Fall

OH, HELL NO

THOMAS

The knock on my door alerted me to the fact that my unexpected and unplanned appointment was here. If this wasn’t such a priority, I would have pushed the interview off to another day. But since this Brooklyn person was already in the building, I might as well meet with her. Hopefully, she was as good as both Sierra and Patrick had said.

“Come in,” I said as my assistant opened the door and led Brooklyn inside.

My eyes started at her bare legs before moving up the length of her tight pencil skirt. Her blazer was short, but still found a way to accent her hips and curves, and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t find them appealing. Continuing even further up her body, I noticed fiery-red hair spilling across her shoulders, and that was when my breath caught in my throat.

It wasn’t the fact that she was attractive that had me shaking my head. No. It was the fact that this woman was the drunken hotel guest from the other day. This interview was over before it ever got started.

I groaned inwardly and mumbled under my breath, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Brooklyn stepped inside and planted herself in the chair across from my desk, her eyes latching on to mine. “Look, about the other day,” she started to explain before I even said a word.

“No. That’s okay. You can go,” I said, dismissing her.

“I can”—she paused—“go?” She dragged out the last word, like my request was some kind of negotiation instead of a demand.

“Yeah. You can leave,” I said. “This obviously isn’t going to work.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back into the chair instead of moving to get the hell out of it.

“No.” I waved her off as I stared at my computer screen. “I’m not sure why Sierra and Patrick thought you’d be such a good fit,” I said more to myself than for her to hear. “I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

“I’m not leaving. You haven’t asked me a single question,” she argued before tossing those red locks over her shoulder.

I was going to have to be more blunt with her. “You clearly have a drinking problem, and I can’t have someone working events who can’t handle their liquor. It’s unprofessional and unethical.”

That set a fire under her ass. She stood up so fast that the chair behind her was on the brink of tipping over. Her cheeks were almost as red as her hair, and I knew I’d struck a chord. People didn’t like being called out on their issues.

“I have a drinking problem?” She choked out a laugh. “That’s rich. Didn’t realize we knew each other that well. Please, Thomas, tell me more about myself since you’re such a fucking expert,” she spat out before sitting back down, her temper clearly getting the best of her.

Brooklyn was a loose cannon with a foul mouth. It would have pissed me the hell off if it didn’t actually make me feel something else entirely. I felt alive and, to be honest, a little turned on. Two things no woman had made me feel in years, no matter how hard they tried.

I stared at her, my eyes narrowing as I regained my professional demeanor and self-control. “You were drunk in the middle of the afternoon during the workweek. You said you wanted to go rock climbing,” I reminded her, and she cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

“That’s stupid. I don’t rock climb,” she disagreed as her lips formed a snarl.

“On my chest, Brooklyn. You wanted to go rock climbing on my chest.”

---