An Everlasting Pursuit (PURSUIT, #3) Page 21

  That’s why I took the plunge two days ago and moved to a shoe-sized condo in the same district, despite the fact that I don’t have a job or a stable income, except for the settlement I’d received for the sexual harassment I’d been exposed to at the last company I’d work for. It’s not a little amount, but I want to keep it for harder times, not now when I’m young, childless, and capable of eighty-hour work schedules. Not to mention the lack of a boyfriend tidbit, which actually sucks up a lot of productive time.

  Feeling glad that I’m finally done with live, sexual shows only a room away, I set about getting ready for my first job interview. The little possibility that Michael Hawkins, probably LA’s most attractive businessman, may attend the interview is enough to throw me into a heart attack. He’s one of the project owners at my sister’s construction company and personally asked me to call his assistant to set up a job interview for myself.

  Of course, I delayed the inevitable phone call as long as I can, thinking my instant attraction to Michael was just temporary, caused by the lack of male presence in my life. Nonetheless, my loneliness got the better of me and here I am, coating my lips with a deep-red lipstick, wearing a push-up bra beneath a not-so-modest, V-neck blouse.

  I call a cab to the company’s headquarters in Sherman Oaks and count the number of red cars I see on the way during the twenty-eight-minute drive. I spot exactly one-hundred-six red cars, if I don’t count that one car which had two black doors but was red everywhere else. I have to eliminate that one, or else I’ll end up having an odd number and my job interview will flop.

  Among all numbers, it can’t be a number that ends with seven, because I hate seven. My birthdate, which is also the date of my mother’s death, falls on the seventh of June. I found out the truth of my mother’s death when I was seven. That jerk of a colleague in my old company tried to rape me on the seventh of February. Valerie kidnapped me and Taylor on the seventh of May. And surprise, surprise, the street number of the house where Valerie kept us captive ended with seven, as well. It was a clear sign that I shouldn’t have entered the house in the first place.

  There are many more things that aren’t just a coincidence about the number seven. Don’t forget the deadly sins that are, what? Seven. Nothing good ever comes of anything related to seven.

  That’s why I’m keeping that clown of a car out of my total sum, and the imminent interview will be nothing but a light conversation filled with laughter and compliments about my work ethic, accomplishments, and, well, also good looks. Of course, the flattery about my looks should come from Michael and Michael alone, or I may have to file another sexual-abuse lawsuit and that will most likely label me as un-hirable for eternity in California, as well.

  I straighten my skirt and adjust my purse under my arm as I climb the stairs in front of the high-rise that’s only the most luxurious building I’ve ever seen. The receptionist greets me with a full-hearted smile and informs her colleague about my arrival through her earphone. “Take the elevator to the fiftieth floor and check in with the secretary. She’ll direct you to Mr. Hawkins’ office.”

  I wasn’t aware that the interview would be held in Michael’s office. I should probably stop calling him Michael in my head to prevent any accidental slips of the tongue. I thank the receptionist and walk to the elevators.

  A cab slides open, and I step in, nodding my head to the tall, blond girl, who, judging by her looks and the familiarity of her face, must be working in front of the camera. Her leather jacket and skinny jeans make me feel overdressed for the interview. She doesn’t return my gesture, which is okay, but I feel her heavy stare on me, as I push the button for the fiftieth floor.

  The fiftieth floor? Very high for my edgy nerves, but at least it’s not an odd number. I inhale the sweet scent of the girl’s expensive cologne, willing my nerves to calm.

  “I wouldn’t bother going all the way up. My father isn’t in today,” the girl says, glancing at her long, black nails with a bored expression on her face, and I realize why she’s so familiar. She’s Chloe Hawkins. Michael’s, ahem Mr. Hawkins’s only daughter.

  “Thanks for the information,” I reply, hoping the disappointment in my voice won’t show, and stare up at the numbers of the floors. It might not be such a bad thing after all. I’ll probably concentrate better on the interview questions without the distraction of a beautiful man.

  I notice no other number is pressed besides fifty, so she must be going to the same floor as I am. Will she be interviewing me? I don’t know the first thing about her, so I shouldn’t judge her by the brief, two-second vibe I’m getting from her, but I can say almost with certainty that she and I will never be BFFs.

  I shove my shoulders back and lift my chin nonchalantly to keep a straight posture and stand as tall as I can be beside her perhaps five-eleven figure; regretting wearing pumps rather than high-heels.

  The elevator doors slide open, and the girl elegantly walks out of it, swaying her non-existent hips left and right. I follow her, hoping the secretary I’ve been told to see will be that direction.

  I clutch my purse, unable to stop my fingers from squeezing it with anxiety, as I see the brand of the skinny jeans Chloe’s wearing. Seven For All Mankind. Among all the cloth lines available, my potential future boss’ daughter has to wear clothes from Seven Jeans. Seven! My first instincts about her were correct. It’s crystal clear she and I will never make it beyond two strangers. That is, if I’m lucky.

  I spot a desk and a brunette in her early twenties in a dark-blue suit. She stands and greets Chloe as she walks past the desk, again without returning the girl’s gesture, and enters through the large office doors. I hesitate asking the girl at the desk about my interview, but I do it anyway.

  “Miss Doheny,” she says, giving me one of the most heart-warming smiles, calming my agitated nerves a bit. “Welcome to Hawkins’ Media Group. Mr. Hawkins is waiting for you.” She comes around her desk and opens the same door Chloe has just passed through and gestures with her hand through to an anteroom. “Julie, this is Miss Doheny, Mr. Hawkins’ two o’clock appointment.”

  Julie dials a number and informs someone of my arrival, while I briefly scan her large office. The desk and the file cabinets are an exquisite mahogany, while the carpet and the walls are a light cream. My old office was half the size of this one, and didn’t even have a tenth of the luxury this one has. Julie’s salary must also be several times higher than mine, although I bet her science knowledge doesn’t go beyond high school math, while I have a worthless double major in math and chemistry. She must have other qualities that make up for her science knowledge, though, to get her such a nice office.

  I would have continued analyzing Julie and the choice of her dress, but the sudden opening of the French doors at the other end of Julie’s office saves her from my critical evaluation. I gasp when Michael appears behind the doors, looking more gorgeous than I remember him.

  “Michael… Hawkins,” I blurt out, willing to kick myself for calling him by his first name.

  He stands at the doorway, offering me his hand to shake, giving me a bright, knee-weakening smile. “Just Michael, please. I’m glad you decided to give Hawkins’ Media Group a chance.”

  Right. I work hard not to roll my eyes at his words and much harder to not let the sultry scent of his cologne get the best of me. If only it was his cologne that was distracting my senses and making my brain go all mushy in an instant. His full head of black hair, only spiked with gray above his ears, his warm green eyes flashing all beautiful and sexy suggestions, his light-pink thick lips that I could spend a full hour just licking, his Zeus’ body. Oh god, that body deserves medals of honor for each and every firmness and curve beneath those undeserving clothes. Even the wrinkles on his face create an aura of sensuality that’s hard to ignore.

  I bet with his years of experience, he’s developed some mind-blowing tricks to overwhelm the poor women who are already mesmerized just by his beauty.

  I’m torn
between wanting to replace Julie, to be as close to Michael as possible, and work in the basement so I won’t do something foolish around him.

  My heart is beating fast as if I’ve just finished drinking half a dozen cups of coffee. As I close the distance between us and reach for his hand, I bite my lower lip and pray that I won’t lose all my sense and end up sucking those luscious lips.

  Somehow, I notice Chloe sitting at the edge of a large desk situated in the middle of the over-sized office and feel grateful for the sneer on her face for keeping me focused on something other than Michael.

  “Hello, Michael,” I say and leave his firm grip. He points toward his office, with the same sunshine smile playing across his lips, and I walk to the middle of the office and stop to wait for him to close the door. Only he doesn’t.

  “Chloe, be a darling and give us some privacy, please,” Michael says, with a warm, fatherly voice.

  Chloe doesn’t say anything as she practically leaps toward the door, with fury steaming from her red ears.

  Michael approaches me and directs me with his hand on the small of my back toward the long rectangular table on the north side of his office. “Lindsey, I thought you’d never call. I’m very happy to see you again.”

  “Me, too, Michael. Chloe told me just a minute ago, when we met in the elevator, that you wouldn’t be in your office today,” I say loudly enough for Chloe to hear as she steps out of the office. I smile with satisfaction, when she flashes me a contemptuous look seconds before she bangs the door closed.

  “She’s a little over-protective of her old father, but she’s harmless. Ignore her caprices, and you’ll be just fine.”

  I want to correct him and say him he’s far from old, but I don’t want to be perceived as a bootlicker. So I just let my body follow where he’s directing me.

  A man, whose presence in the office I’ve just noticed, pulls a chair for me and nods with his head. He’s as short as I am with my pumps and wearing a black suit.

  “This is my assistant, Ricky.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Ricky.” I shake his hands and settle on the chair he pulled out for me.

  “The pleasure is mine.” He sits across from me once Michael takes his seat at the head of the table.

  “You’ll interact with Ricky more often than you will with me.” Michael laces his hands and rests his elbows on the table, instantly sending me into a daydream about my naked body manhandled by those hands. I wish I could fan the extreme heat out of my body. “He’ll be responsible for everything related to your recruitment. So make sure he’s informed about every little detail concerning your life, from filing your income tax return to your choice of tampon.”

  I come close to choking on my saliva at the word tampon. “I don’t think I heard that right. Why would Ricky have to know what I use during my period?”

  “Oh, I apologize. My bad. You must be thinking I’m going to recruit you for a post at the company.”

  I shiver with disappointment, as if ice cold water pours down on me. I was counting on getting a job here and skipping that headache-inducing, motivation-killer job-hunting stage. “I won’t be hired?”

  “Oh, yes, you will. But not for the type of post you’re expecting to have.”

  My eyebrow arches without my control as confusion clouds my mind. “What kind of post do you have in mind?” I ask hesitantly. Okay, I like him. May be a lot, but I won’t work as a prostitute if that’s what he has in mind. These rich people. All of them are too spoiled to see the value in each person and think they can buy anything their frozen heart’s desire. Where’s the good, old fashioned method of taking the girl out to a nice restaurant for dinner? He’s so gorgeous; I would probably end up in the same bed with him before the end of the night.

  “I want to hire you as my girlfriend.”

  There you go. My fury surfaces with the mere sound of his words, and I jerk to my feet, pushing the chair back. I should get out of this office before he tastes my iron slap. I don’t want to deal with another lawsuit even if it’s my every right to sue him.

  “Please, listen to what I say before you make a decision.”

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “I didn’t think you were one. I just need you to appear as my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, I see. You want to take advantage of the fame of my iron slap? I thought you were better than that.”

  He shakes his head, an unnerving smile across his lips. Funny how a minute ago that same smile melted me into a puddle. “I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend because of your honesty and trustworthiness. It’ll be a lie if I say your selfless act to save your sister had no influence on my decision. It did, but it just confirmed what I initially saw in you.”

  “Why do you want to hire me to appear as your girlfriend, exactly? All you need to do is to take me out to a restaurant a few times, and you’ll have a girlfriend with an iron slap. Are you afraid that I’ll reject you?”

  He throws his head back as his loud laughter fills the room. I sneak a peek at Ricky and see him laughing as well. I shouldn’t have made it so clear that I have a special interest in Michael. Ahh, my uncontrollable tongue.

  “Isn’t she lovely?” Michael asks Ricky and then turns to me. “Believe me, you’d be on the top of my list of potential girlfriends, but you see, I can’t have any real girlfriend.”

  I frown, trying to imagine why such a rich, gorgeous man can’t have a girlfriend. If STDs are his problems, what are condoms for?

  “You don’t get it, do you?” he asks, his eyes searching my face, and I shake my head. “Because I’m gay.”

  “Oh.” Oh!

  “And I’m not ready to come out yet. I probably never will be. It’ll destroy my business and the life I’ve worked so hard to build. My children would be affected as well. The public opinion regarding homosexuals might be getting more liberal every day, but if the word gets out that I’m into men, it’ll be my end.”

  I plop back on the chair, unable to register his words. My lips are glued together; my brain is blank. The one man who managed to grab my interest after long months of celibate living turns out to be gay? That can’t be. I’ve met and befriended enough homosexual men to distinguish who’s gay and who’s not, and Michael looks far from being a gay. With his strong features and overpowering command, he is, in fact, a symbol of masculinity more than anyone else. It must be a cruel joke. Fucking rich people! One of their hobbies is messing with the feelings of ordinary people, like me.

  My eyes jump between Ricky and Michael. I wait anxiously for them to break into laughter and make fun of my foolishness. I’d rather have that than lose Michael without even having a chance with him.

  But the laughter never comes, and instead Michael continues with his speech, “I need a strong, opinionated, and trustworthy woman beside me to keep my image as a straight man. You’ll be compensated with a generous salary for your help, have access to all kinds of luxury products, travel across the world with me, and have a chance to learn the insights of the media business. Please don’t decline my offer without giving it thorough thought. ”

  Shit! How am I supposed to make such a big decision when I can’t yet wrap my head around Michael’s sexual orientation? It’ll take days, even weeks, to analyze everything and think through possible scenarios for my career to be able to form a sound decision; and most likely my answer will be a negative one.

  But right now, with my confused thoughts, the positives outweigh the negatives. I’ll gain hands-on business experience, see countries that I’d probably never see if I continue working as a mathematician, make money, and help someone in need.

  “Take as much as time you need,” Michael says.

  I let out an exasperated breath and shake my head.

  “Please, don’t say no without considering everything.”

  “I’ve already decided.”

  Michael’s face drops, and his skin goes pale with disappointment.

  “I’ll take your offer, and it
better include at least a trip to Japan.”

  ***

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  About The Author

  Liv Bennett lives in California with her scientist husband, toddler daughter, and two loud budgies. Reading and writing erotic romance are her favorite forms of relaxation, in addition to long walks and yoga. She's a social drinker of coffee but a serious tea addict.

  Adam Garnett, the hero of the Pursuit of Passion, came to her in a dream during a romantic getaway in Las Vegas on Valentine's Day, and since then hasn't left Liv's mind for longer than a day, much to her husband's dismay.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue – VALERIE: When I see you again…

  1 – TAYLOR: Craigslist

  2 – ADAM: Lie with Bree

  3 – The accomplice

  4 – ADAM: Jealousy rain

  5 – TAYLOR: Insecurities, go away!

  6- TAYLOR: Over-priced

  7 – ADAM: Trapped

  8 – TAYLOR: The grand scheme

  9 – TAYLOR: Wrong man kissed

  10 – ADAM: Silence before the storm

  11 – ADAM: When it rains…

  12 – TAYLOR: Help!

  13 – LINDSAY: Back in L.A.

  14 – ADAM: The imminent fall

  15 – TAYLOR: Enemy at the door

  16 – LINDSAY: Iron Slap

  17 – ADAM: Give in to me

  PLEASURE EXTRAORDINAIRE

  About The Author

  Table of Contents

  Prologue – VALERIE: When I see you again…

  1 – TAYLOR: Craigslist