Power Play - Tiffany Snow Page 0,121

in the gut.

Unable to stand the bedroom anymore and unwilling to climb beneath sheets still warm from Sage’s body, Parker walked into the living room. A faint glow from a dim light under the kitchen cabinets filtered in through the space, providing enough illumination for him to pour a healthy shot of scotch.

Memories assailed him as he stood in the silent apartment, staring blindly out the window. Memories of Sage and the day they’d first met.

“How many applicants do we have?” he asked the HR rep in charge of helping him find a new secretary.

She set a half-dozen files on his desk. “These were the ones I thought were the most qualified.”

He glanced through the stack, flipping one open at random, then frowned. “An art history degree qualifies someone to be a secretary?”

“Executive administrative assistant,” she corrected him. “And that’s the least qualified candidate, but she had a solid 3.8 GPA and her application was very well done. I thought an interview couldn’t hurt. I can cancel it, if you’d rather. She’s scheduled last so—”

“No, it’s fine,” Parker interrupted, tossing aside the files. “Just send them in when they get here.” Surely one of them would work out. And could start immediately. He was drowning under the pile of work and the incessant phone calls.

“Yes, sir.” She left the office, but Parker barely noticed, already plowing through his inbox, currently cluttered with over two hundred unread emails.

The first applicant was Joanne, a no-nonsense woman who’d spent the last twenty years as assistant to some Wall Street hedge fund manager. He’d retired and she’d moved to Chicago to be closer to her grandchildren. Parker was bored before she’d even gotten to the name of the third one.

The second applicant chewed gum. In an interview. Nope.

The third wore a blouse two sizes too small and a skirt so short he had to look away when she crossed her legs or it would go all Basic Instinct on him. She had a predatory look in her eye and Parker would swear she eyed his crotch when he stood to shake her hand.

The fourth and fifth were both bland possibilities, neither one standing out as particularly ambitious or enthusiastic. Parker wouldn’t want to stereotype—that would be politically incorrect—but if he did, he’d say they both seemed like women biding their time in a temporary job until they married and quit to pop out babies.

By the time the last one—the art history major—was due, Parker had had about enough. This interview shit was putting him even further behind. Accounting had just delivered a stack of billables he was supposed to check, he had a meeting in less than thirty minutes that he hadn’t had enough time to prepare for, and he was starving because he’d had to work through lunch. Irritated didn’t begin to describe his current mood.

A tentative knock sounded on the glass door and he didn’t even glance up as he called out a “Come in.” He heard the door open and he shifted a stack of folders. That Carlson file had to be around here somewhere…

“Just have a seat,” he said. “I’ll be with you in a mo—” Glancing up, his words abruptly cut off.

The woman who’d entered his office was drop-dead gorgeous. Not pretty. No, way more than that—curvy and sexy, with legs up to there and thick, chestnut hair down to there. Her body looked like it had been made for sex, lovingly encased in a peach dress that hugged every delicious curve. The neckline was demure, scooped and only hinting at what lay beneath. The hemline teased, hitting right above her knees. The skin of her legs was so perfect, Parker couldn’t tell if she was wearing nylons or not. But then he caught sight of her shoes, bronze sandals that wrapped around her ankle on top of a three-inch heel.

And her toes were painted the exact shade of her dress.

“Hi, I’m Sage Reese.”

The voice was throaty and smooth like twenty-year-old scotch, and made Parker jerk his gaze up to her face. She was smiling, a warm, open smile that showed perfect white teeth. Her eyes were the same shade of mahogany as her hair, framed in lush, dark lashes.

She was holding her hand out expectantly and Parker jumped to his feet, thrusting his hand toward her and knocking over the entire stack of accounting files in the process.

Shit.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “That was totally my fault.” She dropped down and started picking up the scattered files, treating Parker