I walk around my desk, noticing that she can’t take her eyes off me when I sit on the edge. "Let’s say I do offer you the position." I stretch my legs out in front of me, the toe of my boot nudging the leg of her chair. “When can you start?”
She starts to answer, but she hesitates and thinks for a moment. "I can start a week from now, on next Monday.” It’s another lie because she’s got that wild look in her eyes, the kind that only comes from desperation. She can start now, and I wonder what the hell had gone so wrong to make someone like Lucy Williams this hard up.
"Perfect." I push up from the desk and gaze down at her, my mouth turning down as I take in her expression. I can’t hire her. Hiring her will be bad for business—bad for my cock and state of mind—but Christ, she looks beautiful staring up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. "Thank you for coming today, Williams—”
"Lucy." She frowns. I’d like to kiss it away—just to see if she tastes as incredible as she smells. "If I'm supposed to call you Jace, please feel free to call me Lucy."
"I prefer Williams," I say. She bobs her head obediently, and my fingers spasm because I want to trail them through the black hair swinging around her breasts. "I've got a few more interviews between today and tomorrow, but I'll make my choice by Thursday."
"That sounds great. I'll look forward to hearing from you." She’s so shaky that when she stands up, she almost collides into me. I could get used to the scent pouring off her body. My sheets could get used to it. More reasons why I can’t hire Lucy. "Thank you for the opportunity, Jace."
I offer her my hand. “Pleasures all mine, Williams.” She looks down at the Roman numeral tattoos on my knuckles for so long, I finally groan and pull her hand in mine. She’s soft. Soft and silky, and she does awful, delicious things to my cock when her breath catches.
How many times have I thought about touching this woman?
How many times have I wondered what her fingers would feel like wrapped around me, stroking and squeezing until I reach the point of no return?
Too many, and now that we’re skin to skin, it’s a sin this is the first time I’ve touched her.
"I'll let you know my decision by Thursday.” Pulling away, I flex my fingers then shove them into my front pockets, so I won’t reach out to her again. For a moment, we stand in complete silence—Lucy with her eyes lowered to the floor and me with my face furrowed into a deep scowl. The second she looks back up, I flash my eyes to the door. The sooner I get her out of here, the better. “Ring Daisy if you have any questions.”
She blinks, but then takes a step away from me, swaying slightly in her high heels. "I will, thank you." Grabbing her purse and folder, she walks to the doorway, her shoulders sagging. "And if you need anything from me, please feel free to call or email."
I give her a half-smile. "I will, Williams."
I watch her leave, and I can’t stop staring at her ass. I shouldn’t hire her. She’s a distraction. She doesn’t know a fucking thing about what we do here, and if she did, she wouldn’t have strutted in my office talking about clocks and other bullshit. She’s a know-it-all. One that will claw her way under my skin faster than any woman I’ve ever met. It was her bitchy comment ten years ago that put me on this path to begin with, and I’ve never forgotten it.
That last thought makes me pause.
I was never the brightest in our class, but Lucy’s comment and smug little grin at graduation had given me the kick in the arse I needed.
Maybe I should return the favor.
At the very least I can call her references.
And if I do hire her, she won’t last a day, and my problem will solve itself.
Three
Lucy
I wish I could say I'm surprised, but when the week creeps to a close, the only job-related calls I've gotten are from Tom, who continues to chide me about leaving San Francisco. It royally sucks to scratch yet another opportunity off my list, but like Jamie always says, it is what it is. I'm disappointed—my mother was so hopeful after I came home Monday night and let her know EXtreme Effects wasn't some crazy Craigslist sex scheme and that I knew the owner from school—but I feign nonchalance whenever she asks if Jace has called.
"You'll hear from him today," she's assured me several times, her voice still brimming with confidence whenever I say he hasn't gotten in touch with me.
And every time, I smile and hunch my shoulders, feeling a little more like a failure. A little closer to becoming a Bingo-playing cat lady. "Maybe. If not, it's probably for the best."
I don't tell her how I'd started off the interview wrong when he told me I looked well. I mean, how the hell does one respond to that?
You were a dick in school, but I like your beard—love it, in fact.
Your flannel shirt and muscles and tattoos make my mouth go dry. Do you happen to have water to help with that?
Jesus H. Christ, you grew up beautifully. Epically.
I also don’t let Mom know that I’d said things that are too personal, too painful, to mention to many of my friends, much less to the man dangling a job over my head. And I certainly don't admit that, when I say Jace's silence is for the best, I'm being honest. Multiple times I've found my fingers wandering over the hand he held in his, skimming the path his calloused, Roman numeral-tattooed fingers made as he pulled away. It's not the same effect—not even close—but it leaves me lightheaded nonetheless.
By the time I meet Jamie in Boston for drinks on Friday night, I'm agitated. Not with Jace but with myself for thinking of him too many times and checking my phone every five minutes. For wiggling into this shitstorm.
"You've been nursing that thing for at least half an hour, woman." My best friend's melodic voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look up from swirling my cocktail straw around my mojito and checking my phone for the eleventy-billionth time. Jamie’s brown eyes are pinched into a scowl. "Are you all right?"
"Job woes." I hit the home button on my phone again, just in case, but I have zero new notifications—nothing from Snapchat or Facebook, and certainly not any missed calls or texts. Christ, I’ve fallen so far that I don’t even have new Candy Crush updates. "This week has been total shit."
"Don't even get me started," she mutters. "One of my patients took a dump on me this afternoon."
I’m floored at the stars in her eyes and the silly grin playing at the corners of her mouth. "You know, most people don't smile when they talk about literally getting shit on."
“He was cute.” She shrugs. “It didn't take much to forgive him."