Page 7 of Big Boss
But it’s not just nerves this time. It’s that rush of foolish yearning I felt when he touched me so carefully that has me acting like my cheese has slipped off my cracker.
This man is a stranger. Probably twice my age, maybe even a little bit older. And he’s clearly more than a little bit of a disaster, judging by that mess with the press and what I could hear from his side of the conversation when he was on the phone earlier.
And even if all those things weren’t true, I’m positive he’s not thinking anything even remotely sexy about me. Hell, he’s probably thinking about how Bethany Boggs hit the nail on the head when she rejected me.
He shakes his head briefly and moves to throw the wipe away somewhere behind that big vault of a desk. Then he leans back in his giant black leather boss chair and gives me another of those looks.
“Is this your thing? Like you just stare at people until they confess to whatever it is you’re trying to pry out of them?” I lean forward and stare right back at him.
He sits up again. “I’m waiting for you to sit. I assumed that we’d have some sort of interview if you’re at all serious about working for me.” Then he does that devastating eyebrow thing again. “You are serious, aren’t you? Because I don’t have time to waste if this is some sort of joke.”
Without waiting another moment, I plop into the chair across from him. “It’s not a joke. I’ve got exactly the qualifications you need to help you succeed in, um, whatever it is that you have that big desk about.”
His lips quirk up at that remark, so I’m probably not about to be thrown to the wolves, furry or camera-wielding. I press ahead.
“What exactly do you do here, anyway? Other than steal coffee and get in trouble?”
His jaw tenses for a moment then he gives me a slow smile that holds enough wattage to power the entire building. “The name’s Tate. Donovan Tate.” He pauses and waits for me to say something. Okay…
“Erica Ridley,” I say and hold out my hand to him, even though the giant desk between us effectively precludes us shaking hands without some sort of acrobatics on my part.
“Huh,” he says again, like I’ve said something that doesn’t make any sense to him.
“What? Is there something weird about my name now?” I don’t mean to sound bitchy, but he’s acting super weird about this situation even though the entire mess is basically his fault.
He shakes his head abruptly. “No, nothing like that. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about yourself?”
I pull my outstretched hand back in and sit as primly as possible, which isn’t easy considering the height and depth of the guest chairs in the room. I probably look like a little kid because my feet don’t quite touch the floor. Instead, I try crossing at the ankle, but still end up feeling like an impostor.
“Well, I’m a recent graduate with a double major in Art History and Business Administration.”
He holds up a hand, halting my speech. “Why that combination? That seems an odd pairing.”
I want to squirm a little under his scrutiny but resist and tell myself to sit still. “I’d love to make a living creatively, but it’s not in the cards for me. But with this background, I would be a strong asset to any of the galleries here and potentially make some contacts in the art world too.”
He makes a non-committal humming sound, then nods at me to go on.
“I’m planning to go back for my MBA but I don’t want to do it until my loans are paid off. By my calculations, that’s in about three years and four months, give or take.”
His wicked, plump lips curl up again into that devilish grin. “Give or take. Of course.”
“That’s why I set up a series of interviews at the different galleries in the building today. I was hoping one of them would take me on and give me the connections and income I need to actualize my plan.”
“Other than Boggs and Huss, who else were you meeting today?”
“Rosenblum and McCarter.”
His lips curl up into something like a snarl. I’m probably not supposed to think it’s sexy, but even his disgusted face is hot to me, as we’ve already established.
“Rosenblum is practically a criminal. There are a ton of rumors circulating about that guy, and none of them are anything good. I’m certain he’s not a suitable match for a young woman like you.”
I roll my eyes hard at that. “Okay, Mister Bossy. I’ll be sure not to let Rosenblum’s big, bad, dirty ways scare me.” I make it sound as smutty as possible, in case he missed how patronizing he sounded trying to lecture me.
His eyebrows shoot up again, and something naughty in me delights at having shocked this man, the one who acts like he’s wrapped up in a wall of ice.
“I see. Well, I’m glad to hear you can take care of yourself, Miss Ridley.” His polite face belies the insulting, insinuating tone of his words. “On second thought, it seems we’re not going to fit well together after all. Please give me a minute and I’ll call about your escort.”
If he thinks that’s the way to get out of this situation with me, he’s got another thing coming. “Nope, I’m good. Just let me know where you want me to set up and I’ll call and cancel my other two appointments.”
