In fact, I had two of her afghans myself. They were very soft.
I picked up the phone. “Send the first one in, Joyce,” I instructed.
Four hours later, I stared at the résumés each woman left. They were all fine. Capable. One was actually perfect. Susan had accounting experience, knew how to run an office, was only looking for some time out of her house now that her husband had retired. That seemed to be the running theme with a lot of these women. She had informed me she could work ten to four, three days a week, and she didn’t carry a cell phone, nor could she work weekends. I had assured her that was fine.
Any of them would fill in nicely for Joyce. And I knew, soon enough, they would get bored or move on once something else came along, and Elite Security would be a distant memory.
Exactly how I wanted it.
I stood, deciding I would think about it overnight and make a final decision tomorrow, although I was leaning toward Susan. She was the top candidate and would do well in the role. I told the agency I used not to send anyone else. I had enough to choose from.
I slipped on my jacket, straightening my sleeves, and grabbed my cell phone. I was going to head to the local bar and grab a late lunch. I had a full evening ahead of me.
But as I stepped into the outer office, the door leading to the hall burst open and a woman stumbled in. She was breathing hard, her hand pressed against her chest. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and I was stunned into silence.
She was in her late twenties. About ten years younger than me, I guessed. Average height, with full breasts and wide hips I glimpsed under her coat. But it was her hair that caught my attention. It streamed over her shoulders and down her back in a riotous mass of curls and spirals. And the color. Vivid copper with highlights of gold and brown woven in and catching the bright lights of the late-afternoon sun that filtered through the window.
Her cheeks were flushed, staining her creamy skin a dull pink and highlighting a scattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones. Finally, I met her eyes. Bright sapphire blue met my stare, her gaze anxious.
“Am I too late?” she gasped out.
“Late?” I asked, confused. “I think you have the wrong office.”
“For the secretarial job? Isn’t this Elite Security?”
I gaped at her. She was looking for a job—here?
Absolutely not.
She spelled one word. Trouble. The exact kind of trouble I didn’t need.
Yet before I could comprehend what I was doing, I swept out my arm.
“No, you’re not too late. Come in.”
I escorted her into my office, my hand hovering near her lower back, itching to touch her. Her head came to my shoulder, and when I inhaled, I could smell the scent of her incredible hair. As she moved, the strands brushed the back of my hand, and I had to forcibly stop myself from fisting it to find out if it was as soft as the curls felt briefly on my skin.
I waited until she was in front of my desk. “May I offer you anything?” I asked. “Water, coffee…?”
“Oh, a water would be great. I ran all the way here from the subway.”
That explained the flush. I headed to the corner and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, setting it down in front of her. I tried not to stare as she picked up the bottle and drank deeply, her throat moving in time with her swallows. The skin there was fair and delicate, faint blue lines of veins running under the surface, highlighting the paleness of her neck.
“Much better,” she murmured, then removed her coat, revealing a simple shift dress. It clung to her curves, highlighting her breasts and hips, and showing off her neck and arms. I suspected it showed off her legs as well, but aside from dropping down to check, I had to keep my assumption private.
I indicated the chair. “Sit, please.”
She did so gracefully, crossing her legs, and thanks to my glass-topped desk, confirming they were indeed shapely. She bent and pulled an envelope from her bag, handing it to me. I noted her low voice and serious expression.
“My résumé.”
I accepted the envelope, our fingers brushing briefly. I tried not to start at the feeling of her skin against mine. Internally, I shook my head. I must be hungry since there was no other explanation as to why I was acting this way. Why I had even allowed her into my office. She wasn’t the right type for this job.
She was far too… I glanced up at her, meeting her vivid blue gaze, then dropped my eyes back to the piece of paper I had pulled from the envelope. She was far too everything I avoided.