Alden McLaren had me completely off balance.
Not only was he incredibly intimidating, as his reputation as a playboy preceded him, but he was very, very, very gorgeous—the kind of gorgeous that would get him tons of girls without being absurdly rich like he was.
He was clearly older than I was, which made it even hotter, a killer jaw and a head of model-esque slicked back dark brown hair, and despite the semi-formal pants and shirt he’d been wearing, I could tell he had a physique that belonged on a magazine cover.
My body had started responding the minute I’d seen him.
I had done a good job at not letting on (I think), but obviously had given something away if he’d moved in on me like that. I couldn’t have been giving him the impression that I was looking for an arrangement, could I?
I dressed professionally, brought a resume, shook his hand and presented myself like the professional woman that I am, but still he’d made a move on me at the door. And even worse, I’d given into it!
And even worse than that, if he had grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back into the room, there’s no doubt in my mind that I would have let him bend me over that big, expensive, wooden desk of his that only billionaires have and fuck my brains out.
“Shit,” I grumbled as I pulled into the driveway. This was a really tough situation. On one hand, I desperately needed the job—we hadn’t even discussed pay, but unless he was a real asshole, it would be great—but on the other hand, he was gorgeous and I wanted him. And in my line of work, those two things didn’t mix, especially after what I’d been falsely accused of.
I glanced at my nearly empty fuel gauge as I shut off the car, took my satchel and headed into the house to find Sara sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine.
“Pour me one of those,” I told her. “I need it.”
“Bad interview?” she asked as she handed me a glass. I downed the entire thing in a single gulp. Sara chuckled.
“Not quite,” I corrected her.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “Wait a minute…was this the Alden McLaren interview?”
I nodded as I poured myself another glass.
“Ohhh….” she said.
“Ohhh?” I asked her. “What does ohhh mean?”
“You know what ohhh means,” she teased.
“No, I don’t, Sara! What does ohhh mean?”
“It means Alden McLaren is a gorgeous billionaire,” she smiled. “And you are a gorgeous girl.”
“And so that means what exactly?” I asked.
“Gorgeous babies?” she suggested.
“Sara!”
“Relax, girl,” Sara cooed, rubbing my knee. “I’m not Melissa. I’m not here questioning your reputation as a business woman. I am however fully aware that you are a hot, single, warm-blooded lady and he is an equally hot, single, billionaire playboy and you were just at his Hamptons mansion by yourself.”
“I wasn’t by myself,” I corrected her and took a sip of my wine. “His assistant was there.”
“In the room?”
I paused. “No…”
Sara laughed. “So what happened? You guys get a little flirty?”
I shook my head and buried my face in my glass.
“He didn’t flirt with you?” she asked, sounding surprised.