Maybe she was reading him wrong. Which meant she wasn’t as good at her so-called abilities as she thought. “No job since. I haven’t been able to find anything that I’m really qualified for.”

He clucked his tongue. “I’m sure that’s true. You have a very unique skill set, indeed, Drea. Did Max provide a reference for you?”

Wow. He’d acknowledged her skills as legit. That was a first. Of course, the answer to his last question would probably end any interest he had in her. Not that she cared. “No references. And really, it’s Andy.”

“Then I’ll make a note to call him.” He scribbled on the top of her résumé.

“No, don’t!” She nearly jumped out of her chair. Which was embarrassing. She hoped he mistook her heated cheeks for enthusiasm.

He stalled with his hand on the receiver.

She took a second to calm herself, sliding back into the chair and making a conscious effort to smile naturally. “Please, Mr. Donovan. Max and I didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“Oh?” He sat back in his own chair.

Thank the Lord.

“I’d rather not discuss that if you don’t mind.” Andy crossed, then uncrossed her legs. That hadn’t come out as smoothly as it had sounded in her head. She would have to figure out a better way to deal with this question in her future interviews.

“I do mind.” His tone told her that he had no qualms about ignoring her request.

She held her breath while he stared at her, willing him to speak first.

“But since you aren’t my employee—yet—I suppose I’ll have to abide by your wishes. Let’s discuss my needs, shall we?” he finally rejoined.

His needs? If he kept looking at her with those devastatingly blue eyes, they’d have to discuss her needs. Not that she was entertaining the idea. Blue eyes were just generally disarming. Especially when attached to a tall, muscular man in an expensive suit. Shame about the personality.

And shame on her for thinking about him as anything other than disgusting. Or at the very least, unappealing. Or mostly unappealing. Inside-ugly! “Yes, let’s discuss your needs.”

Please, please let that have come out less seductive than it sounded to my ears.

If he registered the want in her tone, he ignored it. “I’m a very busy man. I built this IT business from scratch. It’s expanded worldwide. I often have to travel to New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago. Occasionally Japan or Germany. I work long hours, catering to clients in different time zones. When I finally leave the office, I head home and typically continue working there. Obviously, this leaves little time for anything else.”

Ah, the married-to-his-work type. But he was so attractive. He had to get it on sometimes. She couldn’t stop herself from asking. “You don’t date or … anything?”

“You mean do I have sex?”

She blushed at his bluntness, refusing to acknowledge that that was indeed what she had meant. Was this appropriate to discuss in an interview?

Turned out he didn’t need her confirmation and felt it was relevant. “I have plenty of sex. When I’m in the mood, so to speak, I simply go find what I need.”

“What you need…?” The conversation had her lower belly tightening in a way that made her both aroused and uncomfortable.

“I believe the term is cruising, Drea. I go by myself to a club or a bar, and I don’t leave alone.”

“It’s Andy. And how often do you do this?” She was starting to get a read now. Narcissist, control freak, misogynist …

Donovan leaned forward, grabbing her eyes with his. “Very often, Drea.”

She shivered at his low silky tone, at the way his gaze held her captive. When he looked at her like that, she wanted to be one of those women he picked up in the bar. Even though the idea should make her feel gross and slimy, it made her feel hot and bothered instead.

Blake continued his piercing stare. “Did you think otherwise?”

Andy shifted in her chair, not sure how to answer or even if she should because at that moment she was afraid her response would be to climb in his lap and lick him from head to toe.

Donovan decided for her, breaking their eye contact to brush an invisible piece of lint off his sleeve. “These rendezvous never last more than one night, however. It seems the women waiting to be picked up by men in bars are not the type of women I’d like to spend any real time with.”

Thankfully, Blake’s inside-ugly statement broke the spell he’d had over her. Well, mostly. She still found herself morbidly curious, about to ask the question she couldn’t believe she was going to ask—the one she had promised herself she wouldn’t. “What exactly would the ideal woman be, Mr. Donovan?”

He was quick with his answer. “About five-seven, five-eight. Between one hundred five and one hundred twenty pounds. I prefer the exotic look—dark-brown eyes, near-black hair.”

God, the man was a pig. And not just because the look he’d described left Andy’s five-foot-five, 147-pound frame out of the running. In fact, she had never been more proud of her light-auburn locks and hazel eyes. She’d hate to think she made it onto this disgusting bastard’s wish list.

At least, that’s what her brain was saying. The pulsing between her thighs said differently.

Snap out of it, Andy. He’s a filthy man-whore. Stay focused and get through this farce of an interview. “That’s a very specific type, Mr. Donovan.”

“What can I say? I know what I want.”

The office full of blond women came back to her. “Interestingly, I didn’t see anyone fitting that description on your staff.”

His lip rose in a smug smile. “Best not to surround oneself with temptation.”

Andy tried hard not to let on how repulsed she was with that statement. So many things about it turned her off—the idea that women could be lumped together based on their physical appearance; that looks were a more important factor to job placement than ability; that Blake Donovan believed his attraction to a woman was the only factor in the get-laid equation.

The last might be true and that was what bothered Andy the most.

Swallowing her loathing, she plunged into scary waters. She’d already committed to seeing the interview through, after all. “What about her personality?”

Donovan’s brows creased. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what type of personality are you looking to spend your life with?” Did he really not get the question? “Will she be funny or sweet or—”

“Quiet,” he said, decisively. “I don’t want to be bored with talk of shoes and soap operas. Sweet is good. Perhaps submissive is a better term.”

Now that Andy thought about it, calling Donovan a pig was rather unfair to the noble swine.

Andy ran her hand through her hair and scanned the office one more time. Certain there were no hidden cameras, she had to assume the man was for real. “What about long-term goals? I’m guessing you plan to marry this life partner. Do you want children?”

“God, no.” He was silent for a moment. “Maybe one. I’d hate to see my cousin or, more accurately, his wife get their grubby hands on my money after I’m gone. As for marriage—yes, with a prenuptial agreement. And nothing fancy as far as the wedding is concerned. A simple ceremony, no reception. There is no reason to invite anyone but close family. Even that is questionable.”

Unbelievable. “I see.” It was Blake’s turn to narrow his eyes and contemplate exactly what it was she meant with that statement. Well played, she told herself, chalking a point under ANDY on her mental scoreboard.

“What about a profession?” She had no idea why she was even bothering to pursue the conversation. It was almost like watching a train wreck. She couldn’t turn away.

“For the woman? Certainly not. If she’s working now I’d like her to give that up when we marry. Part of the reason I want a companion is to have someone to come home to. A woman with a profession cannot be counted on for that.”