I cocked my head and studied him for a moment, not quite sure what to make of this question. Was I supposed to have listed this? Last time I checked, my degree was worth more than basic beverage delivery services. “Of course not.”
“Right. I’ve read your credentials. Many times. You have fresh ideas, and meetings are a chance to share them. It’s how I grow my company.” He leveled a look at me, with enough ferocity to sucker-punch the breath right out of my chest. A few years ago, during my backpacking trip across Europe, I’d thought I’d met some of the most stunningly handsome men on the planet. I mean, come on, accents. That alone was enough to send my swoon meter into the red. But Brogan had such an intensely gorgeous face—even with his lips currently set in a frown— paired with an equally impressive body, and an air about him that could command a room. Every expectation I’d formed about what was truly attractive in the opposite sex was shattered. Brogan Starr broke hearts…and with those delicious forearms, quite possibly beds—not that I’d be finding that out.
He tapped his papers against the table again, and my attention snapped back to him. All congeniality left his face when he said, “Show me I didn’t make a mistake hiring you.”
“Right.” I frowned. I’d get right on that. Looked like I had a lot of work to do if I wanted to keep my job.
…
“We gather together to honor the short life of Chanel Cardigan Black Friday Find. Your time on our poor Lainey’s shoulders was cut short, but you were with her through rain and overcast days.” Zoey grabbed a cupcake from the package and took a ceremonial bite. “Do you have any words, Lain?”
Another tradition we’d started in high school was clothing funerals. Whether a fashion trend died before we were ready to let go (I will never get over the baggy jeans fad) or something was beyond repair, we’d honor our favorite outfits by giving them a proper good-bye. We started out with sparkling cider freshman year, and by the time we reached college, it was boxed wine and Hostess cupcakes.
“You were a great sweater. You kept me warm on cold days.”
“Dependable as a good boyfriend,” Zoey chimed in.
I swilled my wine. The sad part was that I wouldn’t be able to afford anything that nice for a long time. I tried to take good care of my clothes, especially now, with my budget tighter than a pair of Spanx. “More. I didn’t need to put out for her.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She raised her wine, and we clinked glasses.
“To the best sweater a girl could ask for.” I took a sip of wine and tossed the coat into a cardboard box in my closet. I’d save it for a later date, when maybe in all the spare time I had (ha!) I’d take up sewing.
Zoey handed me the last cupcake in the container and asked, “Want to watch an episode of Gilmore Girls?”
“Only if it’s a Jess episode.”
Anything to get over the fact that work wasn’t all that it was cut out to be, and that little problem of not being able to get my boss’s brown eyes off my mind. “Deal.”
Chapter Six
Starr Media Handbook Rule #263
Animals are not permitted on Starr Media premises.
“Come in to my office,” Brogan says, his harsh voice piercing through the intercom.
“Yes, sir. Is something wrong?” I slide past the door and lean against it.
He frowns and furrows his brows as he pages through papers on his desk. “Your work performance is not up to Starr Media quality lately. I’m not happy with your progress.”
Sweat trickles down the curve of my spine, and I’m gasping for air. The room is closing in on me. I need this job more than anything—he must know that. “But I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”
“I want more,” he demands, hunger in his eyes.
“What do you want?” I don’t have more to give.
He rolls up his sleeves, revealing one delicious tattoo at a time, and gives me a dimpled smirk. “You.”
My alarm buzzed on my phone, and I shot straight up in bed. My bangs were matted against my forehead in a soggy clump, and my heart continued to pound against the wall of my chest. What the ever-loving hell was that? I mean, I guess I was still shaken from the meeting yesterday, but naughty office dreams about my boss were the last thing I needed.
I groaned and looked at the time. I still had four more snooze button presses before I had to roll out of bed. I collapsed back on my pillow and tried to lull myself back to sleep, rolling to my left side. Then the right. I tried fluffing my pillow and pulling my hair into a bun. No use—my body was jacked up from the weird Brogan dream. I groaned and rolled out of bed, resigned to the fact that I would not be getting any extra Zs this morning. Fine. Time for plan B. Liquid sustenance.