There were about eight other people waiting. Most of them were young women, clutching their resumes, looking infinitely more confident and professional than I imagined I did. What had I expected — James had gotten me an interview, but of course that didn’t mean I was the only one. I heartily wished I’d thought to go over my CV, and maybe put it in some fancy folder.
I took a seat, smoothing my skirt beneath me, and played with my phone to while away the time.
One by one, the applicants were shown through. I saw them leave, too, with smiles on their faces. I could have sworn each looked very confident about their chances for the job.
Eventually it was my turn. The receptionist peered around the room inquiringly. “Jessica Adams?”
I’d been in a daze, and jumped up in surprise. “I’m here.” Clutching my resume and my handbag, I followed her.
Rick Alcott’s office was huge. A giant desk dominated one side of the room, with comfortable-looking leather furniture on the other side. There was an adjoining room, which was closed. It was all very tidy, and had the requisite beautiful city view. I could see it had started raining outside, the sky darkening and a few drops of rain landing on the windows.
“Good afternoon, Miss Adams. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Please, take a seat.” Rick Alcott had a pleasant but bored-sounding baritone voice. He was seated at his desk; pen in hand, stack of papers in front of him. I wasn’t sure if he’d even looked up from his reading. I smiled, and walked toward the desk, heels clicking on the tiles and then growing silent as I stepped onto the thick carpet.
I sat down slowly, placing my resume on the desk before me, and waiting. After a minute, I felt decidedly awkward. I willed myself not to fidget. Instead, I crossed my legs and watched him. He was young — maybe five years older than me at most, I estimated. His hair was light brown, or perhaps dark blonde, and slightly messy, and he wore glasses with steel-colored wire frames. In his hand the pen tap-tapped restlessly against the desk as he read.
After a minute, he abruptly dropped the pen, and pulled off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes briefly, and then sat back with a sigh. His eyes met mine as he ran a hand through his hair, and his face was transformed with a warm smile. I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat under the force of that smile. His eyes were a light blue and his strong jaw was covered in light stubble, and he was… well, he was completely hot.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “ I hate this crap.”
I blinked.
He and reached over to grab my resume, and I slid it gently toward him over the polished wood. Then he looked stared at me, taking in my face and then briefly, my upper body. I fought the instinct to shield my expansive bust.
He went back to reading. “So…” He began. “As you know, I’m in need of a new assistant. James mentioned you’re a bartender?”
I flushed. “Yes, that’s what I’m doing at the moment. But I have had plenty of experience as a receptionist. I know all the new software, and I have an excellent phone manner.”
He smiled again, not looking up, eyes scanning the pages. “You have plenty of experience in a lot of things.”
I rolled my eyes while he wasn’t watching. “Yeah — Yes. Let’s just say I haven’t yet found my calling.”
He turned the final page, glanced at it, and put the resume down. “You believe you have a calling?”
I licked my lips nervously. “I don’t know.” I decided to be honest. “I haven’t been happy in a job for a while. I don’t think I’ve found the right one for me, yet.”
Rick just looked at me for a long moment, folding his hands and leaning back in his big leather chair. He didn’t look like a typical big business type, but he pretty much had the mannerisms down. “Well,” he said, “That’s okay. Five years ago I didn’t know what I wanted to do, either. And to be honest, I’m not just looking for someone who can use a phone and open my mail. In fact, that’s probably going to be the smallest part of it.”
I nodded, my b row furrowing ever so slightly, and listened politely.
“It’s… hard to broach this matter with someone I’ m just meeting.” He ran his hand through his hair again restlessly. “Firstly, what I need, is someone who can assist me in personal matters, not just at work. I need someone who can travel with me, come to events, do my shopping and hell, sometimes maybe cook a meal for all I know.”
I nodded again, more slowly. “I can do all that.” — I wasn’t sure about the cooking part. But for now I decided to run with it.
“Most of all I need someone who I can trust with intimate matters.” He said, looking right into my eyes. “And I don’t expect this to happen overnight. I haven’t gone into this expecting to hire the right applicant the first time. There’ll be a probationary period. To see if we get along.”
“Alright,” I agreed. That wasn’t so out of the ordinary. And he seemed alright — certainly easy on the eyes. I thought I could get along with him.
He smiled warmly again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had blue eyes, I noticed. Hesitantly, I smiled back.
“Obviously,” he continued, sitting forward again and picking up the corner of one of the pages, 'if you have commitments here — a partner, children… this position might not be suitable. We could be traveling for long periods of time.” One of his eyebrows was raised slightly, questioningly.
“No,” I said quickly. “To either.” And I felt the flush returning, my cheeks growing hot.
He rubbed his stubbly chin with one hand thoughtfully. “Well,” he said, “I just have one other thing to ask you.”
“Sure.”
“Will you come to dinner with me tonight?”
Rick must have seen the confused look on my face, as he hurriedly continued, giving a little laugh. “I know it sounds strange, but think of it as an extended job interview. I hope you can forgive me — I think you would suit the job well, but I do want us to get to know each other. This isn’t a decision I can make based on fifteen minutes in an office. And I need you to be sure, too. You might not want the job, once you get to know me.” He grinned.
“ I don’t think that’s likely.” I replied, belatedly hoping I didn’t sound flirtatious. But his grin was infectious, and I smiled back. “Sure, why not.” I agreed.
“Thank you.” He sounded grateful, somehow. “I’ve been interviewing people all day. It’ s been boring as hell,” he confided.
“Are you going to dinner with all of them?” I asked, his casual manner putting me at ease.
He laughed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
He had offered to pick me up in his car, or to have me picked up — but I’d declined. I took a cab, and met him at the restaurant, which was one of the fancier ones in my part of town.
As I entered wearing my low-cut purple dress and super-high heels, I couldn’t help looking around nervously, wondering just how underdressed I was. Wealthy looking couples and groups sat at tables full of delicious looking food, lit by candlelight. They laughed and joked together. But I couldn’t see Rick.
Just as I was beginning to worry, a staff member approached me. “Jessica Adams?” He politely but neutrally inquired.
I nodded, dumbfounded. The thought occurred that I was about to be stood up.
“This way, please.” The waiter looked me up and down with an empty smile as he turned to lead me out.
Rick was seated at a table in a back room. All of the other tables were empty. He was fidgeting with his phone, brows furrowed, looking somewhat tense. The waiter walked out, and I stood watching Rick for a minute, a small smile forming on my face. He was wearing jeans and a casual shirt with his sleeves partially rolled up, and looked utterly out of place. And I had been worried about being underdressed! But then, I supposed, when you’re rich you can do whatever you want.
I cleared my throat softly.
He looked up sharply, then smiled his warm smile. “Jessica.” And he stood up, waiting for me. Hesitantly, I went to join him. He held out his hand for a handshake, and I took it. It was soft, and very warm. I smiled. “Hi Mr. Alcott.” I greeted him.
I made myself comforta ble at the table, sitting down and crossing my ankles under the chair.
