Actually, when Lacy put it that way, it was what Andy was best at. “I suppose so. Only—”

“Look, you can still keep trying. Keep sending applications out, but in the meantime, will you please, please, just interview?” She laced her hands together in a pleading pose.

Lacy was good. Really good. When did she get this good?

Oh, who was Andy kidding? She’d always been easily wrapped around her baby sister’s finger.

Andy rubbed her hands over her eyes, aware that she was going to give in but not quite ready to admit it. “Just an interview?”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Lacy’s tone was relieved. Excited, even, and Andy had yet to agree. “Go and find out what it all is, how much you’d get paid. When you’ll get paid. Maybe the guy’s a total hottie and easy to work for.”

“Not likely. From his ad, he’s an obvious douchecanoe. Much like the last one.” Andy could picture him now—a stiff-collared, self-centered workaholic who found time to get a weekly manicure but couldn’t bother putting in the effort to find a date. He might even be attractive, but no one was good-looking enough to make up for being the total ass-hat that the ad portrayed.

“I don’t know. Some people don’t know how to express themselves in writing. He could be a prince in frog’s clothing.” They looked at each other for a minute and burst out laughing. “Okay, he’s probably a douche, but we need the money.”

“You don’t even know if I’ll get the job.” Please, God, let me not get the job.

“You will.”

“You don’t know that.” Though Lacy’s faith in her was sort of cute.

“I do. But all I’m asking is for you to check it out. Go to an interview.” The puppy-dog eyes were out again. Even bigger now.

It was time to give in. Andy had nothing left to argue. “All right, all right. I’ll go.” She put a hand up to halt Lacy’s victory dance. “Just to feel it out, though. I’m not promising anything else.” And maybe it wouldn’t be as terrible as she guessed.

“Thank God!” Lacy whipped out a folded piece of paper from her back jeans pocket and handed it to Andy. “I already set it up for you. Your appointment’s at three. Here’s where you’re going.”

“What?” Andy peered at her sister’s pencil scratch. It was an address downtown. “You set something up without knowing I’d agree?”

Lacy offered an innocent one-shoulder shrug. “I knew I’d talk you into it. Eventually.” She grinned. “And I didn’t want you to drag your feet and find the opportunity gone. We need the money.”

“Okay, I get it. Now. I should have realized before, I’m sor—”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear that word from you again today, okay?”

“Fine. Fine.” Andy laced her fingers and stretched them out over her head. Why did she feel like she’d just been manipulated by a master con artist?

Oh, yeah. Because being coerced by her sister was pretty much the same thing.

Andy ran a hand through her hair. “Guess I better figure out what I’m going to wear.” Her new suit would be perfect. But how to sneak it on without Lacy discovering she’d bought it instead of paying the web bill …

“Thank the Lord you’re finally changing out of those TARDIS PJs. You’re starting to smell.” Lacy reached for the tablet. “Now I’m taking back my iPad. I have some Internet stalking to do. Darrin said there’s a new sound coming out of Cambridge. I need to check it out. See if it’s competition.” Lacy swiped at the screen. “What the hell?”

“What’s wrong now?”

“It says we have no Internet connection. I don’t get it. It was just working.”

Andy was up out of her seat before her sister had finished talking. “I’m just going to jump in the shower.”

She’d made it halfway to the bathroom when Lacy screamed after her. “Dammit, Andy!”

At least Andy didn’t have to figure out how to break the Internet news. Now to get a job.

Chapter Two

Andy read the letters on the gold nameplate of the office door for the millionth time since she had arrived. BLAKE DONOVAN, PRESIDENT. Even his name sounded pompous, old-moneyed, and Republican. And if he hadn’t been born with money, he certainly had it now. His waiting room looked like it should be featured in an HGTV special—the leather couch she was sitting on had to cost Lacy’s whole year’s rent. What a waste.

She leaned into the cool material and swung her crossed leg back and forth while she bit the inside of her cheek. She was nervous. Which was ridiculous. Yes, she needed a job and Lacy was counting on her to land this job, but Andy had already decided this was not the job for her. She was only here out of consideration to her sister, to show that she was determined to get employment. She’d sit through the silly interview, then tomorrow she’d stop by one of those temp agencies she’d been avoiding.

Besides, even if this job as personal matchmaker was up her alley, she could tell from looking around the waiting room of Donovan’s office that she did not fit in with the surroundings, and she didn’t mean the environment. It was the other employees that made her feel frumpy, underqualified.

The glass walls gave her a perfect view of his staff outside. They all looked like they walked out of a commercial—good-looking, perfectly dressed, put-together, gliding around as if on rails. That was definitely a count against her.

Strike one: not a model.

The office door opened and Andy looked up from the book she was reading on her phone. A leggy blonde exited, her eyes downcast. She was gorgeous—tall, model-thin. Her cheekbones could cut someone they were so sharp, which somehow added to her beauty. She fit in with the rest of the runway-ready girls that it seemed Blake Donovan liked to employ.

In fact … Andy glanced around the staff’s desks again, this time looking only at the women. Yep, she wasn’t imagining things. There wasn’t a single brunette among them.

Strike two: not a blonde. Two strikes and she hadn’t even made it into the interview yet.

Andy pretended to keep reading, but her eyes followed the blonde as she passed through the waiting room and out to the main work area before they darted back to her book. She was starting to feel more than a little insecure, despite the sharp new outfit. As proud as she’d always been of her auburn locks, it didn’t feel good to think they were a liability.

A rustle in front of her drew her glance back to the office door. A man had stepped out to speak to the secretary. Ah, this must be the illustrious Mr. Donovan. His back was to Andy so she couldn’t see his face, but from behind he was pretty good looking. Stunning, actually. His shoulders were wide and defined. Even though the jacket covered his butt, she was certain it was equally sculpted.

Then he turned around and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. Stunning didn’t do him justice. He was gorgeous. Like knees-knocking, panty-soaking gorgeous. His jaw was strong, his cheeks high. His broad forehead and short dark-blond hair accentuated his blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes. Eyes that left a person feeling dazed and confused. Eyes that made a woman do silly things like forget her name or her reason for being in his office or her predetermination to hate him. Those kinds of eyes.

Strike three: Mr. Donovan is hot.

Too hot. There was no possible way she’d get through an interview with a man that smoking. How would she even be able to speak? She might as well lock her phone, grab her bag, and leave right now.

Except she was frozen, caught up in staring at the man who couldn’t not be stared at.

“Definitely not that last one,” Mr. Donovan said to his secretary. “She has man-calves.”

And with that, Andy was back to reality. The guy was a chauvinistic ass-wad, and that made everything about him look downright ugly.

As long as she focused on that, this interview would go fine. She hoped.