nose. She pushes them up, pressing at their center.
My heart pounds a mile a minute as she peruses my resumé. I hope she likes what she sees. I hope she likes me. It’s imperative that she does, since she’s the one I’ll be working with mostly. I wonder if I’ll ever even see Weston. This penthouse loft is huge.
That’s another reason my heart is misbehaving, the possibility of seeing him walk in at any minute, knowing he’s probably close by. The man is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. There’s just such a presence about him. It may be quiet, but it is definitely strong. I’m sure he owns every room he enters.
I study the space; a lovely mural of birch trees, two sleek chairs and a small table in the corner. Silk contemporary draperies frame the tall windows, and impeccably organized built-in bookcases line the walls. “This is a very nice office,” I offer, not able to stand the silence. “Very orderly.”
She looks up and laughs. “Well, it has to be. The Boss doesn’t like anything to be out of order. A place for everything, and everything in its place kind of thing. I’m not usually this organized. You should see my apartment.”
I smile. “My friend, Mischa, is kind of like that too. Sometimes when I’m at her place, I’ll move something around just to mess with her.”
She sits up straighter with wide eyes. “I do that too. It drives the Boss Man crazy.”
I laugh, imagining Weston losing his shit.
Her smile fades as she dips her head again. “Well, you look good on paper, Honey,” she finally says. “That’s for sure.”
I nod, not able to make eye contact as her face is still buried in my resumé.
“And I see here that you have a lot of experience with branding.”
I smile. “I do. When I was at Widrich Miller, it was all we did. I was there for six years. I have tons of examples in my portfolio.”
She finally raises her gaze to mine, and studies me for the longest time, like a curious child. I stare back, slightly uncomfortable. What am I supposed to say now?
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she teases. “Show me the goods, Honey.”
I smile.
“Yes, the goods…” I say. “I definitely have that.”
She shakes her head. “I won’t believe it until I see it.”
I laugh out loud. Damn, she is weird. But in a good way.
“C’mon, Honey. Strip for me,” she jokes. Thank goodness she’s a woman, because this would be bordering on sexual harassment if she weren’t.
I dip my head and reach for my portfolio case which is very big, and sometimes hard to carry around. I carefully unzip it with nervous hands, and awkwardly edge it toward her desk, waiting for her approval.
“Uh… you might have to clear your desk a bit.”
She swipes her hand across the desk and sends the papers and pencil and pens flying on the floor. Her Best Mom mug and framed photos are still standing.
I stand, frozen with shock.
Her grin is impish. “Let’s do this, Honey. Right on my desk.”
Damn, she is weird. Very strange. But then again, I usually like strange.
I slowly settle my portfolio across her desk, and I’m extremely careful not to knock her mug and frames off.
“Yeah, just like that,” she says. “I like it.”
I laugh again, and flip the cover open.
That’s when I see him standing in the corner, watching us intensely, a delicious smile tracing his lips. I have no idea how long he’s been standing there.
When our gazes meet, he walks over and closes the distance between us. “Please, don’t mind our lovely Mrs. Diaz. She’s a joker. I always tell her she should be doing gigs at Second City, not working for an old bore like me.”
Old bore? Definitely not.
My poor heart is now officially working overtime. God, I’m not even sure I can breathe. I hadn’t expected him to just pop in like this.
He leans over the desk, looking as delicious as the last time I saw him, but a lot more casual; dark jeans and a soft grey sweater. I want to reach out and touch the light stubble on his jaw, barely there.
“Show us your work,” he says. “I’d love to see.”
Damn.
I can barely breathe, let alone speak and move my hands.
I suddenly feel hot and clammy. I reach for my hair, but it’s up in a professional bun, the blue strands hidden. I hesitate for a few seconds, frozen. So many thoughts whirl around in my