Never Got Over You
“Good afternoon, Miss Kennedy.” A grey-haired man entered the room behind me. “I’m Joseph Jewell and I’m the chair of the board. Our apologies for starting your interview so late today, but our CEO ran into a bit of trouble with one of his private jets.”
He has more than one? “That’s fine,” I said, smiling. “I totally understand.”
“We’ll have to start the first part of your interview without him.” He pointed to the front of the room. “Feel free to take your place there, set up any materials you may have, and let us know the moment you’re ready to begin.”
I obliged and moved to the podium. I set my purse on top of it and inserted my flash drive into the mini-device that was next to the screen. I organized the flashcards for my five-minute pitch and made sure that my cell phone’s ringtone was set on silent.
Taking a deep breath, I silently counted off in my head, like I was about to perform on a stage.
“And one … two … one, two, three, four …”
“I’m ready.”
“Great!” A woman in a red sweater flipped open a folder. “Let’s cut straight to the chase, Miss Kennedy. We were highly impressed with all of your essay answers and the attention to detail. So, we’ll keep this simple. Why are you interested in becoming our new marketing director?”
“I’ve always loved advertising and coming up with unique concepts to lure in customers.” I said. “For the past several years, I’ve worked my way through ad agencies all over the country—with a few odd jobs here or there, and I’d love the chance to work on a much larger scale with your organization.”
“Do any of these companies have names with substantiated proof that you worked there?”
“Yes.” I opened my bag and pulled out the stack of portfolio files I’d crafted late last night at FedEx Office. “I’ve brought copies of my previous work and results, and I look forward to sharing them during my five-minute pitch.”
Her lips curved into a smile, and a few of the other board members sat up a bit straighter.
An intern grabbed my portfolio stack and set a copy in front of every chair.
“On one of your application questions, you mentioned that you’d be willing to immediately relocate to Seattle from your current residence in Philadelphia. Is that still true?”
“Yes.”
“Our marketing chief is now required to meet with the CEO and the board at least once a week. We’d prefer if you didn’t send an intern or junior associate in your place. Would you agree to those terms, if we considered hiring you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Would you be willing to?” She paused as the door opened on the other side of the room. “Ah, here he is now, finally deciding to grace us with his presence. Miss Kennedy, this is our Chief Executive Officer, Mr. Sean Holmes.”
A suited man strolled into the room, his eyes focused on his cell phone, his wrist watch sparkling under the shimmering lights of the chandeliers. He stood still and continued tapping his screen, enwrapped in a private conversation, as if no one else was in the room. As if we all needed to wait until he felt like talking.
He finally slipped his phone into his pocket and took a few more steps toward the table, stopping dead in his tracks when he looked up at me.
He blinked a few times, taking half a step back as he slowly looked me up and down.
I felt my jaw unhinging as his beautiful green eyes met mine, and I lost all train of thought.
His lips parted as recognition sparked between us, and I tried to rack my brain for an explanation as to why these people had just referred to him as “Sean Holmes.” Why they didn’t know him as the man who’d dominated my dreams for damn near a decade. The man who’d loved and left me, breaking his promise and ultimately ruining my life.
James Garrett…
Whenever I’d fantasized about him and all the things we could’ve been, I envisioned him exactly like he was in the past. Always wearing a white T-shirt that clung to his rock-hard abs and dark jeans that exposed his perfect “V,” always ready and willing to take me down, whenever and wherever.
But seeing him now, in a custom dark grey suit with diamond cufflinks that glistened under his boardroom’s lighting, put all of those fantasies to shame.
He was still staring at me—pinning me to the spot with his gaze, and my mind was starting to run wild with our old memories.
“We’d love it if you joined us for the interview, Mr. Holmes,” the man who was seated at my left said. “So far, we’re finding Miss Kennedy quite impressive.”
“I’m sure you are …” His jaw clenched at the words ‘Miss Kennedy’ and he took his time walking to the table. Keeping his eyes on mine, he took his place in the center seat, directly across from me.