Feverish (Bullet #3) (7 page)

Clay? Gone. Jet was in the room. It was
probably for the best. If this woman was going to consider working
for him, she’d have to see and hear it sometime. “What the
fuck
?”

Mary was calm and walked past Clay to the
desk. “Well, is that what you’d do with something like that when
you found it?”

Emily blinked a couple of times and started
to speak once but stopped. Then she seemed to find her voice.
“Well, no, of course not. I’d throw it away. But I—”

“There’s the trashcan I brought over for
you.”

The younger woman took a deep breath and
nodded, then grabbed an edge of the plate and tossed it in the
trash. She didn’t have to worry about the pizza falling off the
plate; it had since molded itself to paper. It was like they were
two parts of one whole. Inside, Clay was
still
wondering
what the fuck
, but this was Mary’s deal. Emily said, “This
has to be one of the most unusual interviews I’ve ever had to
participate in.”

Mary shrugged. “You’ve never worked for a
rock star before. That is just the beginning of the things you
might find doing your regular duties. As Mr. Smith’s right hand
woman,”—wow; he kind of liked the sound of that because, even
though Mary was his housekeeper, she truthfully
was
so much
more—“that is one of the tamest things you might find while
executing your duties. I am hopeful that you will simply be a
personal assistant and help him balance his checking account and
make sure he gets to an interview on time, but you might sit on a
half-eaten TV dinner tray or walk in on him having sex with a
groupie.” Clay raised his eyebrows, but inside Jet shrugged,
knowing she was right. Emily’s face was stone. He wondered what she
was thinking. Mary continued. “If you want this job, you need to
know what you’ll be facing. Money isn’t everything, and if you’re
going to wind up resenting my boss or tearing him down publicly
because you can’t take his eccentricity, then you should go apply
somewhere else.”

Wow. Why couldn’t Mary do and be everything
for him? Oh, but he actually knew. He drove her crazy and about all
she could tolerate was cleaning up after him. He paid her well for
it.

Emily nodded and didn’t miss a beat. She
pointed to each of the piles in order, from right to left. “This is
junk mail and needs to be shredded so Mr. Smith’s personal
information isn’t easily readable. These are bills, organized by
postage date, with the oldest on the bottom. And this stack is a
few things I wasn’t sure about. They might be important or not, but
because I’m not actually working for you yet, I didn’t feel
comfortable opening them. If I were your PA, I would have already
opened them and decided if I could deal with them or if I needed
your input to handle them.”

Clay smiled, considering the tall
raven-haired woman standing behind the desk. God, she was confident
and striking, with dark brown eyes and pale complexion. She was
thin but not skinny, and she had perfectly sized breasts that would
fit just right in Jet’s hands. Pushing that thought aside in his
mind, he walked over to the desk beside her. At the moment, he was
more impressed with her capabilities than he was her looks. He
opened the small drawer on the right-hand side and pulled out a
letter opener. He looked at Mary pointedly before addressing Emily.
“You’re hired.”

* * *

Well, Emily didn’t know if she should be
impressed by Mary’s foresight or horrified by the fact that, if she
took the job, she could potentially find something as disgusting as
a month-old slice of pizza under a stack of bills…or worse. The
shine was already off the apple. This guitar god was hot, but she
could see already that she was repulsed by the pizza and still
feeling creeped out about it.

That said, she knew it could be a great job.
The pay was insane for her first real occupation out of grad
school. She could possibly afford her own place by herself, and she
thought it would be good for her to live on her own before moving
in with Bryce. She might even be able to replace her clunker
car.

Could she work for someone who didn’t care
about the messes he made? Would it bother her if she walked in on
him engaging in some nasty sex with a skanky chick?

Why should it? He would be paying her enough
to not give a shit. Still, she didn’t know if she’d regret it if
she accepted it right away, so after Jet had offered her the job,
she asked, “Can I think about it?”

She could tell from the look on both of their
faces that they hadn’t expected her to say that. They had probably
expected her to jump up and down, giggling and screaming. They’d
forgotten that she had an MBA, though, and that meant that any
interview enthusiasm she would have once shown no longer existed.
She’d practiced every facet of interviewing until she had become an
expert in it, and one of the first rules of successful
negotiation—including landing the perfect job—was showing no
emotion. She knew she had her poker face on, and it was clear to
her that both Mary and Jet were not used to that kind of reaction.
She liked that. It gave her a definite edge and she felt powerful.
It was a shame she was seriously considering turning the job down;
otherwise, she’d have a great position from which to bargain.

Jet nodded, though, and seemed thoughtful.
“Of course. How much time do you need?”

She didn’t think she would need long. She
just needed some time to herself to think it through. “Can I let
you know tomorrow morning? Would that be soon enough?”

“Yeah.” He looked over at Mary. “Would you
mind showing her out?”

Mary smiled. “Yes, and I need to give you a
contact phone number. Just follow me.”

Emily knew she couldn’t blow it now. She held
out her hand to Jet for a last handshake. “Thank you for the
opportunity. I appreciate it.”

He took her hand in his. Still warm. Still
electric. So maybe the shine hadn’t completely disappeared. Another
reason to consider walking away from the job. He smiled and his
trademark dimples appeared in his cheeks. “My pleasure. Talk with
you tomorrow.” He didn’t try to persuade her. Maybe he too knew it
was a bad idea. Maybe he’d looked at her credentials and thought
she’d have better opportunities elsewhere.

As she followed Mary down the hall, she
questioned why she’d applied for the job in the first place, but
she knew why. It wasn’t a big secret, even if she was trying to
hide it from herself. She knew why. She had wanted, just one time,
to have something that was just her own, and it would be perfect if
it happened before Bryce came back. Because she knew, as soon as he
got back from Europe, that either she’d be working for his dad or
she’d have a job the two of them had arranged for her.

She had a big decision to make.

* * *

Clay stayed back in the office and sighed
once the women left the room. He sat in the swivel chair where
Emily had just been and propped his chin in his hand, his elbow
resting on the desk. He knew why Mary had done it, but they hadn’t
discussed it beforehand. In fact, she hadn’t had the old lady or
the nerdy guy they’d interviewed earlier do that.

Clay smiled. He knew why. It was because Mary
knew Clay wasn’t seriously considering the other two. It hadn’t
taken her long to realize, though, that Clay was satisfied with
Emily and thought she’d be perfect.

He wasn’t going to say anything. He
understood where she was coming from. All he knew was he wasn’t
really going to be into the next several interviews today—not by a
long shot.

Chapter Six

EMILY SPENT THE rest of her day packing up
her belongings. She’d been in the same apartment with the same
roommate for two years, an eternity when it came to the nomadic
life of a student. Part of her felt melancholy that this part of
her life was over. The sensible part of herself was ready for
something new and exciting, though.

And the rational part inside kept refusing to
look upon the job offer as just that—something new and
exciting.

No, instead, her goal was to
not
think
about the job offer until the next morning. A good night’s sleep
always made her perception wiser, and there was no way she was
making that decision today. It would be an emotional decision,
rather than one based on the facts or even intuition. She didn’t
want to be driven by her emotions, and so it would have to
wait.

Her roomie had moved out two days before, so
the place already felt hollow. Bryce had flown out yesterday too,
so she knew her emotions were already crazy as it was. She had to
proceed cautiously for the moment. So she played lots of music,
albums by Devour the Day, Adelitas Way, 10 Years, Newsted, and Papa
Roach, and just drowned out her emotions while placing her life in
boxes and cleaning from the corners of each room to the center so
she could leave when she needed to.

The next morning, though, she found that she
was still emotional, so she fired up her laptop and opened up Word.
She made her document with two columns—one pro, one con—and started
typing out all the reasons why she should and shouldn’t take the
job. By the time she was done, the two top reasons for
not
taking the job were that it wasn’t exactly something that would
boost her business resume and also that she found Mr. Smith quite
tantalizing, in spite of the nasty pizza.

There were lots of reasons on the pro side,
some lame (it’s a job!) and some solid (it pays well, especially
for someone with little experience), and so she made her decision
but only with a caveat—that she wouldn’t stay more than a year. At
first, she had thought she would leave by the end of summer, but
that wouldn’t be fair to her employer and she also knew that any
experience less than six months should be left off her resumé.

Enough already. Deep down inside, she knew
she’d already made up her mind. She wanted this. It seemed like it
would be a fun job. She knew too that it wouldn’t be easy either,
but she
wanted
to work hard.

So she picked up her phone and dialed the
number Mary had given her the day before. She didn’t know why, but
she had expected Mary to answer. She was surprised when it wasn’t.
It was a male’s voice who answered
hello
, but she couldn’t
be sure it was Jet’s, so she asked, “Is Mr. Smith available?”

“
Mr. Smith?
” She heard Jet laughing on
the other end. “Yeah, he might be. What time is it anyway?”

“It’s close to ten-thirty.”

She heard him whisper, “Shit.” Then he
cleared his throat. “So who’s this?”

She smiled. “This is Emily Brinkman.”

“Ah…Ms. Emily Brinkman.” Oh, God. She loved
the way he said her name. His voice wasn’t as unassuming and smooth
as it had been yesterday. This morning, it was a little raspy and
low. It was sexy, but she’d never say that. “You have an answer for
me?”

She nodded, fully aware he couldn’t see it.
“I do.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. “If
the offer still stands, I’d like to accept the position.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah?”

“My answer is
yes
.” She took another
breath. “So when do I start?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “When
can
you start?”

“I’m not sure. I have to find a place in the
Denver area to move, so…maybe a week? Do you want me to keep you
posted?”

“What if I need you before then?”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might be
teasing. She didn’t want to chance pissing off her new boss,
though, not after she’d finally decided to take the job. “Um…I’ll
see what I can do.”

“Seriously, just let me know when you’re
ready.”

“Yeah, I will.” That meant she was going to
have to get on the whole moving business ASAP. Stupid. She should
have looked at places yesterday afternoon after the interview. She
hadn’t been in that frame of mind, though.

“Hey…I have an idea. Feel free to say no,
but...I’m given to understand, from guys who already have PAs, that
sometimes you might need to be at my beck and call, close by. I
have a couple of extra bedrooms. You could move in here, and I
wouldn’t charge you. You can still have your own life and plenty of
time off, but maybe it would work out well for those times I need
you for extra hours or whatever. And I know places around here
aren’t cheap.” She was quiet, considering the offer. It
would
be convenient and alleviate any worries of finding a
decent apartment for a price she could afford. Before she could
answer, he said, “Or whatever. No pressure.”

She took a deep breath. “Actually, that would
be pretty cool, if you really don’t mind. But, if I absolutely
needed my own space, would I still be able to move out
and
keep the job?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Okay. Deal. Then when can I move in?”

“Whenever. Just call before you come so I’m
here. I’ll get another key for you.” He paused. “Actually, maybe
that can be one of your first tasks—getting a key made.” She
laughed but didn’t say anything else. “You have my number.”

“This is it, right?”

“Yes. And please call me Clay. None of this
mister
bullshit, for fuck’s sake.”

She tried not to smile. If he thought he was
going to intimidate her with strong language, he needed to think
again. “All right. I think I’ll probably be ready tomorrow.” She
paused. “Morning’s okay, right?”

He laughed. “
Late
morning. If you get
here at seven, you’ll want to find a Starbucks to keep you occupied
for a while.”

Considering she was pretty sure she’d
awakened him just now, she asked, “Eleven okay?”

“That’ll work.”

She hung up. She thought having a boss who
slept late could potentially work. She could spend her mornings
either doing work he’d given her uninterrupted or she could use
that time to network and position herself for a really good job
later on. Once she found out what kind of workload she had, she
could maybe even look into setting up an internship with a
corporation somewhere in downtown Denver. She could ride the light
rail to save gas and get some solid current experience that might
parlay itself into full-time employment once she’d grown tired of
assisting a rock star.