Meanwhile, he still had the Jennings situation to wrap up. “There are other employees who are mindful of these policies. I would imagine that what might seem like a rejection to one person might actually be another person’s attempt to follow the rules. Keep their job.” There. That ought to ease the sting. Not that Blake cared much about Jennings’s feelings, but he was a good employee, as was Fullman, and Blake wanted the situation over with. “That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” Jennings clicked his jaw—oh, there it was! Andrea was right; it was loud.

“Now back to Fullman, are you really interested in pulling her promotion for review?”

Jennings shook his head. “No, actually. Now that I think about it, she’s not that bad. She’s great even.” He stood. “I guess I was just having a bad day. Needed to vent.”

Blake followed to his feet. “Understandable. We all have them.” He walked his employee to the door and opened it for him.

Jennings nodded once. “Thank you, Mr. Donovan. Sorry your sushi got cold.”

Blake stared at the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Cold sushi. Really.

“Did someone say something about cold sushi?” Andrea stood in the door frame, her hands full with the take-out bags from earlier, her expression amused.

God, she really was incredible. In a work sense, of course. How she’d completely saved him in that situation. And in a naked sense. She was incredible that way, too.

Andrea kicked the door shut behind her with her foot, set the bags on the floor, and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Then we’d better do something to warm it up, hadn’t we?”

Blake had always thought uni was best served at room temperature. He had a feeling he was about to find out he’d been wrong.

*   *   *

Andy could not have been more pleased with herself. Keeping Blake on his toes was becoming more and more enjoyable, albeit more and more difficult. This afternoon’s sushi extravaganza was a new high for her, one she was about to beat.

“Blake? Would you meet me in Conference Room Four in half an hour, please? Sarah has cleared your schedule.” She used her most innocent tone. There was no way he’d agree to this, if he’d known what she was planning, but that was kind of the point. She was going to prove to Lacy and Blake both that she could still rock this job no matter what was happening in bed. On desk. Whatever.

Once she’d gotten a distracted nod from her boss, she retreated to Four to organize everything. There were sodas, tea, coffee, cookies; what was she missing? Wine. She knew Blake would make judgments based upon it. Far be it from her to keep Blake’s beloved judgeys from him. She pressed the intercom and asked Sarah for a couple of bottles.

One by one, girls streamed into the room. Andy had jacked this idea from a TV show, but it seemed like an awfully good one. Gather twenty girls in one location, arrange for Blake to spend a few moments with each of them. Yes, it was a cattle call, but it would save her so many interviews. At the same time, it would give her a lot more to work on, vetting multiple candidates at once, instead of the usual one-at-a-time, no-my-boss-isn’t-a-serial-killer thing.

One by one, girls walked in. Exotic girls—Mexican, Thai, a stray Scot. All-American girls, from California and Texas and Virginia. Anyone and everyone whom Blake might consider a potential spouse streamed through the doors and helped themselves to one drink or another. When he himself finally walked in, a hush fell over the girls.

It was nothing compared with the pale hush over his face. This was clearly the last thing he had expected. Andy stifled her squee. It was so fun to see him unbalanced.

“Ladies, this is Blake Donovan. Please line up quietly by the door, he’ll receive you one at a time by the drink station. You will have only two minutes apiece. I understand that’s not long, but do your best to impress him with what you have. Ready … Go!” She hopped up to sit on a folding table, whipped out her notebook, and enjoyed the show.

To his credit, he managed to resist more than one fierce side-eye in her direction as the girls crowded around him. Despite her words, the girls were neither quiet nor orderly. The ones who’d been into the wine were, predictably, shoving for a spot by the front. A frighteningly serious-looking brunette managed to land the first position. She had delivered an impressive elbow to a competitor while beaming at Blake the whole time. “I’m Kristal Gilderoy,” she announced, as though he should be impressed. Blake stared at her silently until Andy kicked him. Her perch on the tabletop put her toe just at his shin, something she planned to take advantage of to keep him on his manners.

“Blake Donovan. Tell me a bit about yourself, Kristal.” Andy smiled and started scribbling in her notebook. Feathered bangs—not fashionable, even I know that. Doesn’t read celeb/gossip rags, clearly. Possibility here.

“I’m sure you’re kidding … But I’ll play along … I’m an indie musician … Very successful, I owe it all to my fans … The only problem I have with them is that they always want more of me…”

She actually speaks in ellipses. I can actually hear the dot dot dots. And I know her music. It’s quite awful. I think Lacy called her a nemesis one time. No possibility.

“Thank you, Ms. Gilderoy. Next, please!” Andy chirped. The girl looked disgruntled and opened her mouth to protest, but the recipient of her elbow jab gave her a shove and launched into her own spiel.

“Mr. Donovan, I am so, so, so freaking excited to meet you. I’ve been following your career. I’ve noticed a few things, though, that you are doing all wrong. Don’t worry, I’m capable of handling that for you. Did I mention I’m a lawyer? I am. And I am ready to go to war for you, both professionally and—personally, if you know what I mean.”

Andy didn’t bother to write down what she was thinking, namely thick-browed pompous weirdo. She merely looked at the woman’s name tag and told Ms. Kernal they’d be in touch shortly. Luckily, those two were the worst of the bunch. By the time the numbers dwindled to four, Blake was chatting informally with all of them.

Andy already knew the raven-haired Ukrainian girl had it in the bag, but she really appreciated the way Blake was loosening up. Look at him, chatting to the Scottish girl she’d only included because she secretly hoped they could become friends.

Fiona was redheaded, intelligent, educated, and goofy. Just Andy’s type. She was glad Blake was being nice to Fiona. That way when Andy called Fiona to let her down, there’d be no hard feelings. Andy could casually invite Fiona for coffee or something. She was so busy being pleased with herself that it took a moment to notice Blake himself was dismissing the ladies.

“This has truly been an unexpected pleasure. Andrea should be contacting you all shortly. Thank you again for making time in your day for this.” He began to walk toward the door, smoothly hooking his arm through Andy’s. It pulled her off the table and propelled her toward the door before she’d even had a chance to thank the candidates herself.

“Are you going to kill me?” she hissed through a grin over her shoulder.

“You know, Andrea, I don’t believe I will.”

“Really?” Andy immediately suspected a trick. “Why not? I totally freaked you out with that. I know I did. Your face was epic.”

“It probably was, wasn’t it.” He smiled down at her as they rounded the corner and headed back into his office. “But I had a nice time. There was one girl I would certainly entertain the idea of a date with.”

“I’ll call Natasha,” she said.

At the same time Blake said, “Please call Fiona.” Andy gaped.

“But—she’s not your type. Not even by a long shot. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Maybe you don’t know my type as well as you think.” With this, the man actually winked at her, and left her openmouthed as he grabbed his notebook and headed off to another meeting.