He was too stunned to let go.

Blake met the eyes of his soon-to-be employee. Their already dark shade seemed darker, and the small part of her mouth suggested a silent gasp. That meant she felt it.

Andrea was the one to break the spell. “Excuse me, I do have another question now.”

Sprung back to reality, Blake dropped her hand. Probably a little too eagerly. “Yes?”

Drea bit her lip. “Why are you offering the job to me? Am I the only person who applied?”

He considered telling her it was her qualifications, which was partly correct. It would be the nice thing to say, the honorable thing. It would be appropriate, too.

He’d never tell her the real truth—that she intrigued him and beguiled him and he couldn’t imagine letting her walk out the door, never to be seen again.

He settled on another answer, no less true, and decidedly dickish. “You’re the only applicant who hasn’t offered to be my wife rather than search for one. And from our interview here, I gather that filling that role doesn’t hold any interest for you.” The last comment should ensure that passing sparks and longing gazes did not occur in the future.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Excellent.” And it was, but she didn’t have to look quite so horrified at the thought.

Chapter Three

Andy paused outside the heavy wooden doors of the temp agency and smoothed down her pencil skirt. After a long night of practice-interviewing with Lacy, she felt more than ready to nail this. Temping for a few businesses would provide the references missing on her résumé. Not to mention the networking opportunities. She hadn’t exactly been Max Ellis’s most popular employee. Because of the nature of her position, everyone assumed she was spying on them and reporting everything back to the boss.

Everyone was right.

Still, it had stung when not a single co-worker had reached out in the aftermath of her departure. It also confirmed that she wouldn’t be using any of their names on her résumé. Hence the rigorous paces her sister put her through planning just what to say to explain her gaps.

She threw back her shoulders and stalked into the office with confidence. A pretty brunette looked up from behind the desk and smiled.

“Welcome to Spencer and Colt Staffing Solutions. How may I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Andrea Dawson, and I have an interview with Denise at nine.”

“Have a seat, Ms. Dawson. She’ll be with you shortly,” the brunette told her. “Can I offer you some tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please. Thank you. I didn’t have time to stop on my way over.”

The receptionist stood up, revealing a slender figure in a slim-fitting mauve sheath. She was tall, even without the strappy heels. Donovan would love her.

Oh, God, what am I thinking? Andy shook her head. The whole scene yesterday had left a bad taste in her mouth. All the more reason to rock this preliminary interview and start getting matched up for jobs.

“Here you are, Ms. Dawson, and Denise will see you now. If you’ll follow me?” Andy collected the steaming cup and her leather notebook case, stood up, and trailed the woman back to a small conference room. It was cramped, and standard—the exact opposite of yesterday’s luxurious surroundings. She felt more comfortable already.

“Ms. Dawson. Have a seat. Close the door, Evelyn,” said the woman at the head of the table without bothering to rise.

“You must be Denise. It’s nice to meet you. Call me Andrea, please,” Andy said, setting down her things and extending her hand. Denise ignored it. She removed the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and stared silently. Andy stared back, smile fading, unsure of what was happening. The woman in front of her was angular and sharp, graying blond hair scraped back into a severe bun. She looked pissed. Andy wondered if she wasn’t supposed to have brought her coffee into the room. She sat slowly, two seats down from Denise.

“Denise Thornton, Ms. Dawson.” She said her last name as if Andy might know it, but she’d never met the woman in her life. Perhaps it was simply the power of her position talking.

And since there was power to Denise Thornton’s position, Andy wasn’t above butt-kissing. “An absolute pleasure to meet you. You have a very lovely name.”

Denise narrowed her eyes almost to the point of scowling. Maybe she wasn’t fond of her name. Andy had better stick with Ms. Thornton then.

“You’ve been out of work awhile,” Denise said, glancing at Andy’s résumé. “Tell me, what kind of position are you looking for?”

“An office setting.” Except she didn’t want to be the person who emptied the trash and watered the plant, so she added, “Administrative.”

“I see.”

The woman took no notes, which bothered Andy in the same way it bothered her when a waiter didn’t write down her order. Invariably, the food came out wrong, her side salad missing the extra croutons or her sandwich layered with tomatoes when she specifically said to leave them off. Andy hoped this wouldn’t prove to be a similar situation.

Denise tilted her head and scowled some more—something she was rather good at. “Exactly what do you think qualifies you for an administrative position, Ms. Dawson?”

Andy had already written this all out on her paperwork, but she answered as she had when practicing with Lacy. “I have above-proficient computer skills. I’m organized and detail-oriented. Plus, I have a knack for reading people and determining their benefit or hindrance in a corporate setting. That’s what I did for a number of years in my previous job, as you can see from my résumé.”

Denise’s eyes remained glued to Andy’s. “Oh, yes, I know. My husband, Bert Thornton, is an associate at Ellis Investments.”

“Oh.” Things were starting to click. And her stomach, along with her hopes, was starting to sink. “Oh,” she said again, this time with less surprise and more dread.

Bert Thornton was a good guy. A great guy, even. He spoke of his wife and two sons often. The boys, twins, were blond, handsome, and star soccer players at the local high school. The wife … Andy hadn’t paid much attention to his stories about her, except to note that it was awfully cute to see a middle-aged man dimple up like that while speaking of his wife of twenty years. He was obviously happy with his life.

The problem was just that, at Ellis Investments, happiness was not considered a valuable trait. Three times during her tenure, Bert Thornton’s name had come up for a promotion. Three times, Andrea Dawson had recommended that he be turned down. Bert Thornton wasn’t hungry enough.

Kevin Weber, who showed up before the secretaries to do research each morning on new accounts, who occasionally was found to have slept at his desk to complete a project, who had a mild heart attack at age twenty-six that prompted him to give up smoking, but not eighteen-hour days—that guy was hungry.

JJ Ballon, the guy who openly discussed his love of high-end escorts with junior partners because dating would have taken time away from his career—that guy was hungry.

Hannah Wang, the radical feminist and PETA activist who frankly scared the shit out of the entire firm with her zeal to prove women could work harder, faster, and better than their patriarchal oppressors—she was hungry.

Each time Bert Thornton’s name was raised, Andy had recommended one of the others instead.

So the great family guy, avid Red Sox fan, and two-time winner of the HOA lawn award was left behind as the younger, angrier, more driven associates moved up. It sucked, but that was the culture at Max Ellis. And everyone knew that culture was bolstered, if not built entirely, on Andy’s suggestions.

Now here it was to bite her in the ass.

“I’m afraid, Ms. Dawson, that with your lack of real credentials and real-world skill set, I can’t offer you any positions in a corporate environment.”