Exposed (VIP 4)

“Thing is,” he continues as though we hadn’t paused our conversation, “I usually turn my focus to other projects. How does it work when you only have one client?”

A grimace twists my lips before I can school my features. “It doesn’t, sadly. I just…push through.”

Marshall nods, and an awkward air falls between us, brought on by my painful honesty and the uncomfortable feeling that I’ve betrayed Kill John by complaining. It’s broken by the arrival of our coffees. It’s my cue to go, but I find myself walking out with him as if by silent agreement.

It’s one of those perfect New York autumn days where the air is crisp but not too cold and the sun is shining lemon yellow in a lapis sky. We stroll toward Central Park, which is at the end of the block. Tourists are wandering up Fifth Avenue, heading for the Met. We ease past them and go into the park.

“You ever think about taking on more clients?” Marshall asks as we amble down a path.

“I work for Liberty Bell too.” A small, wry smile tilts my mouth. “Although that’s more of a ‘keeping it in the family’ kind of thing.”

“You all really do think of yourselves as a family, don’t you?”

An image flashes through my mind, of Rye kneeling between my spread thighs, his eyes searing with hot need. Cheeks hot, I’m grateful for the cool breeze that cuts across the park. “I suppose we do. Perhaps that’s my problem. Family matters are always complicated.”

“You’re burnt out, aren’t you?” He doesn’t so much accuse as ask, as if it just hit him and he empathizes.

And I find myself telling the truth.

“I think I am. I’m just not into work these days and that’s utterly foreign to me.”

Marshall ducks his head as he walks, and I’m struck by how similar in appearance he is to Rye. But where Rye exudes a kind of kinetic vitality, Marshall is more grounded and serious. My body doesn’t hum with want when it’s next to his, but he does make me comfortable. It’s a rare talent, given that I don’t let my guard down with anyone.

“I’d been planning to ask you something…” He pauses and glances over at me. “Now I feel like an opportunist.”

My stomach tightens just enough to make my steps slow. If he’s planning to ask me out, it will be awkward. Before Rye, I’d be all over this man. But I keep my voice light. “Well, now you have me intrigued.”

Marshall huffs out a small laugh as if to say, Well, I tried, albeit not very hard. “My firm has been looking for top talent to recruit.”

“You’re looking at Kill John?” The very idea slides like ice inside my stomach.

His laugh is heartier now. “No, I’m looking at you.”

I stop in my tracks. “Me?”

Marshall pivots to face me. “You’re the talent I’m interested in. The firm is growing leaps and bounds, and our PR division is having trouble keeping up.” His expression is kind, persuasive. “We’d be lucky to have someone like you leading it.”

He’s offering me a job. Surprise prickles over my skin. “And here I thought you were about to ask about going out for tacos,” I blurt out. Like an idiot. Because I don’t want tacos.

He chuckles and takes a step closer. “I am not opposed to doing that either.”

Shit.

Wryly, I shake my head. “Sorry, that just slipped out.”

Heat enters his gaze. “I’m not sorry. We can do both.”

Even if I weren’t doing whatever it is I’m doing with Rye, the idea of going on a date with the man offering me a job doesn’t sit right. “I couldn’t, not if you’re serious about the job offer. It would be a huge conflict of interest for me.”

Marshall winces. “God, that was inappropriate of me. I’m usually better than this. Please, accept my apology.”

“It’s all right. I’m the one who mentioned tacos.” I shake my head slightly. “It came out wrong, anyway. I’m seeing someone.” Jesus. It’s true. I’m in a relationship with Rye. The truth of that hits me in the knees and makes them weak. I brace myself and push on. “Although, I’d love to take you out for tacos as a friend.”

A flicker of disappointment darkens Marshall’s eyes, but it’s gone quickly, and his smile seems genuine. “Ah, well. I suspected someone like you wouldn’t be available for long. But my offer about the job remains. In fact, it’s stronger than ever. You speak plainly, and I like you.”

I can’t help laughing. “That’s succinct.”

He winks, and it is surprisingly not cheesy. “You haven’t said anything about the position. Tell me you’re thinking about it.”

Am I? God. Am I?

Excitement over the prospect of something new to work on bubbles through my veins. But the very thought of considering leaving Kill John feels like the ultimate betrayal. I’m guessing Marshall knows this because he leans in slightly, his expression one I’ve used on reluctant record executives and promoters over the years. “We’re offering an equal partnership position. At least come to LA and hear us out.”