Page 23 of Heart of Stone

“Care to explain?” he pushed.

“Music can be a powerful source in marketing. For me, the right tune has the power to influence me one way or another in just about anything.”

“That’s very interesting insight,” he said with a catlike smile, making me think that he had a secret that only he was privy to. He leisurely walked back to the table to reclaim his seat next to me. “I’m curious. What sort of music would influence you?”

“Um…” I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair. “Well, I guess it would depend on what you were trying to sell me.”

“Ah, but maybe the bigger question would be – are you looking to buy?” he asked suggestively.

Heat flooded my face for what seemed like the five hundredth time in the past three days. I hated that I blushed so easily and I automatically brought my hands to my face to hide my cheeks. A strange and unfamiliar ache began between my legs, only adding to my mortification.

“High elevation getting to you again?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled, and I would swear that my face turned ten shades redder.

Turned on by interview questions. Great. I’m out of my tree.

“Tell me about your experience,” he said suddenly, changing directions.

“My experience with what exactly, Mr. Stone?”

His cryptic line of questioning was confusing. I couldn’t keep up. Perhaps I really was going crazy. It was either that, or his mere presence was turning my brain to marshmallow. I couldn’t be sure.

“Your experience in marketing and advertising, of course.”

He watched me, eyes full of wicked humor, waiting for my response.

This has to be the strangest interview ever. He read my résumé. He knows the answer. Why would he ask me that?

“Everything is on my résumé, Mr. Stone. There’s not much more that I can elaborate on,” I flatly responded.

It was probably the worst answer that I ever gave in an interview, but I had a nagging suspicion that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about my experience in marketing. The twisting in by belly intensified, the conversation making me uneasy. It was full of double meanings and suggestive implications.

“I see.” He seemed frustrated that I didn’t give him a better answer.

The intercom buzzed, making me jump, and Laura’s voice came through the speakerphone on the table.

“I apologize for the interruption Mr. Stone, but your ten o’clock appointment is here.”

Ten o’clock appointment? Have I really been here for an hour?

“Thank you, Laura. I will be finished momentarily,” Alexander responded through the speaker, sounding mildly annoyed.

My interview, if you could call it that, had clearly come to an end. I stood up and straightened my skirt. Alexander Stone stood as well, his intense gaze never wavering, as he watched my every move. I felt naked, despite my blouse and skirt, and my skin grew hot under his scrutiny. I tried to figure out what he was thinking, but his facial expression was unreadable, cool almost. Yet, I was able to detect a sense of uncertainty in his eyes. His stare made me self-conscious and I immediately moved to smooth out my hair.

“Your hair is fine, Krystina.”

Holy crap – he called me Krystina.

I wondered what made him drop the formalities.

“Uh, thanks,” was the only response I could muster.

“It’s a bit restricted for my taste, but fine all the same.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

I was trying to fathom what he meant by that, when he reached over to one of the phones and pressed the intercom button.

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