Page 15 of Drive
I cleared my throat. “My apologies. We’ve already wasted a minute in debate. I’ll take the last four.”
He released another sigh before he looked between Sierra and me—a lingering angry stare on my new friend. “Come on back.”
I handed the phone back to Sierra. “Sorry, desperate times.”
“I hope he hires you,” she said, unaffected by my stunt.
“Me, too. I owe you a drink either way.”
“Deal,” she said as the phone rang. She gave me a wink as she answered. “Austin Speak.” She paused before she smiled through her answer, laugh-creased eyes on me. “Mr. Butler is in a meeting.”
Walking back toward the open door, I glanced at the desks and looked for any sign of life behind them. The rest of the offices were empty. There were a total of twelve people working atAustin Speak. I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. Still, I pressed on through the door, shut it behind me, and turned to see the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Butler.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Numb/Encore”
Jay-Z /Linkin Park
Nate Butler was a god that someone must have tucked away in an old warehouse disguised as an office and forgotten about. His thick, burnt-strawberry blond hair was loosely slicked back around a prominent widow’s peak. Dark eyebrows, violently bright-blue eyes, and strong, sleek features made up his face, while his build remained somewhat of a mystery cloaked in his suit. He sat in his office chair as his eyes assessed me. When they reached my shirt, they softened slightly while he hid his smirk. Samuel Jackson was such a good icebreaker.
“Let me guess,MissEmerson, you’re freelance looking for a desk job, and you’ll do whatever it takes to get a foot in the door.”
“Student, journalism, third year, and I’ll do a lot, but notwhateverit takes. I sent you an email this morning.”
“I got your email, all of them. What I don’t have are room and budget. What I do have is a line a mile long of people withdegrees,experience,and resumes far more qualified than yours.”
“So, you’ve looked at it?”
He sighed as he sat back, and his smile finally won. I moved to sit.
“Don’t bother taking a seat. We’re at three minutes. Go.”
He began typing on one of two keyboards on the spacious black desk, and I took the seat anyway.
“I want to cover entertainment.”
He barked out an incredulous laugh before his typing resumed.
“How old are you?”
“Isn’t that illegal to ask?” I said, leaning over slightly to invade his personal space and to get a whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing. Dead sexy, intimidating, those were only a few good adjectives to describe Nate Butler.
“It would be illegal if I had an open position and this was a real interview—” he glanced at Samuel over one of his screens “—which it’s not.”
“I’ll be twenty on Saturday.”
“You’re a baby. You have nothing to offer me. And you can’t legally get into most of the clubs in this city.”
“We both know that’s horse crap. With a press badge, I’ll be able to get in anywhere. And I am very persuasive.”
He paused his typing. “Is that why you’re here? For a free pass?”
He looked me over again and sat back with his hands clasped.
Gripping the edge of the cheap chair, I gave my ready defense. “I’ve been to over two hundred shows. I’ve met a ton of musicians and celebrities at those shows. This isn’t a Make-a-Wish type deal for me.”
