Breathless.
Perhaps she should have been prepared. She’d interviewed for the job with Alex Cassidy, the editor in chief who would be her boss.
As far as male specimens went, it didn’t get much hotter than the green-eyed, dark-haired brand of tall dark and handsome that Alex Cassidy had going on.
But even if the title of boss hadn’t marked him off-limits already, the gold wedding band marked him as a look but don’t touch.
Little did she know that Cassidy was the rule, not the exception. So far on her tour of the office, she’d met at least a half dozen guys who qualified as perfect tens in her book.
Taylor wasn’t ashamed to admit she had a type. She liked her men polished, successful, and quick-witted, and so far the guys at Oxford ticked all her boxes.
She tried to remind herself that she was above this.
That she’d practically been raised in high heels, was professional enough to rise above ogling her colleagues, and that her aunt would be absolutely appalled if Taylor’s only impression of her first day was “cute boys” and not world domination.
But damn if Taylor wasn’t just a little disappointed by how many of them either had wedding rings or had given her the polite welcome of a man whose heart—and body—was otherwise engaged.
“I hate to do this on your first day, but okay if I hand off the rest of your tour? I’ve got a meeting in five that I tried to get out of, but—”
Taylor waved her hand at Alex Cassidy. “Please. Don’t worry about it. Just point me toward someone who can show me where the coffee is kept and give me a couple lunch recommendations, and I’ll have everything I need.”
The editor in chief had spent the past fifteen minutes taking her around the office, making introductions, doing the typical we’re like a family speech, although she had to admit that, based on what she’d seen, it did feel a bit like a family.
Cassidy smiled. “That I can do. And I know just the person.”
Taylor braced for another obnoxiously attractive man, but the small office Cassidy led her to belonged to a woman. A pretty twentysomething with blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a friendly smile.
“Brit, this is Taylor Carr. She’s starting today with the advertising team. Taylor, this is Brit Robbins, digital marketing extraordinaire.”
Brit smiled. “Welcome! Fab shoes,” she said with an approving look at Taylor’s Jimmy Choos.
“Annnnd, that’s my cue,” Cassidy joked, already backing out of the office. “You mind showing Taylor the rest of the office? Specifically, where she can find coffee.”
“Should I also tell her the coffee sucks because you won’t replace the machine?” Brit called after an already retreating Cassidy.
He didn’t respond, and Brit turned her attention back to Taylor, giving her a once-over that was unabashed but friendly. “So. Please don’t think me forward, but there’s a shocking lack of stylish women around this place. Any chance you want to be best friends and talk about boys?”
Taylor laughed in surprised pleasure.
She had never been much of a girls’ girl.
Growing up she’d been almost painfully shy in that way that other kids interpreted as standoffish. By high school, her aunt’s icy demeanor had rubbed off on Taylor enough that the other girls’ avoidance of her hadn’t hurt—much.
College had gotten better. She’d joined a sorority, learned how to play nice with the other girls, so to speak. She’d also learned that for every competitive, catty woman out there, there was another perfectly nice, loyal friend to be had.
Still, she could count her really good female friends on one hand, and none of them lived in New York. She was definitely due for a local BFF.
Taylor leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “So I’m not the only one who noticed.”
“That we live in the headquarters of hot guys? No, trust me. I spent the first six months trying to remember to wipe away the drool. I was basically HR’s worst nightmare.”
“No dating among colleagues?”
Brit shrugged as she picked up her cellphone and gestured for Taylor to follow her down the hallway. “As far as I know, it’s not an official rule, I just know I lack the emotional maturity to handle a workplace romance.”
“Not even a holiday-party hookup?”
“Nah, but trust me, if Lincoln Mathis looked my way twice, I’d break all my own rules.”