Was she creating barriers where none existed? But her hearing was just fine. I forgive you, he’d said. How could they move forward with that distrust between them? She could overlook the fact that he was her boss and that he’d paid off her debt to Ray, though his habit of making decisions without her input really chapped her ass. But if he was always waiting for her to betray him…
Hurt people hurt people, and she wasn’t sure which of them would hurt the other more. One thing she did know was that this ache in her heart would eventually fade, because the only way out was through.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma smoothed the skirt that did not need smoothing and surreptitiously checked her phone again. Two minutes past her scheduled interview time. She smiled nervously at the receptionist for the Teagan Consulting Group, who gave a sympathetic smile in return, then mouthed, “Any moment now.”
The leather portfolio in her lap was stuffed with paper copies of her references and a résumé. Not that it was necessary. The person who would be interviewing her—a Mr. Tyler—would have received them with her application three days ago. This was the third job she’d interviewed for this week and she had a good feeling about it, especially as she’d received the tip from Hunter, when she’d called him a week ago asking if he’d provide a reference.
Entry-level property consultant. Working for Score Property had taught her so much, so she knew she could do it. The benefits were excellent, salary almost in her preferred range, and bonus: it offered tuition after a year. She could finish her degree at night, finally get those letters after her name.
A phone rang and the receptionist picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Tyler. Right away.”
“You can go in now,” she said to Emma.
With a nod of thanks, Emma wiped her clammy hand on her skirt and walked into the office. She gasped. It couldn’t be—no, no, no. Heart in a free fall, she took in the broad, instantly recognizable shoulders of the man standing at the window with his back to her. Having seen him in that pose a million times before, it was etched on her eyeballs.
A flurry of panicked thoughts pinwheeled through her mind as Brody turned, those silver-gray eyes betraying nothing.
“Ms. Strickland, have a seat.”
She remained standing, feet warring with her brain.
“What are you doing here?” But really, she didn’t want to know because her feet had won the battle. She was already pivoting on her heel and placing a shaking hand on the doorknob.
“Running again, Emma?”
No fair. She was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. Composing herself without showing any signs of doing so, most notably breathing, was difficult. Turning, she found him leaning on his desk, so handsome pain slammed through her gut. How dare he look that good in a suit?
“I came here to interview for a job, but now I’m questioning if one even exists.”
“There’s a job,” he said softly. “Perhaps you should give me your résumé.”
Her fingers dug into the leather portfolio reflexively, concerned he might try to wrest it from her. She’d printed her résumé on 100-bond creamy vellum, which cost her what little she had left and damn, even that was precious. He’d already taken enough. “I’m sure you already have it.”
“Well, how about you show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” A curl of amusement lit up his mouth.
The bastard thought this was funny? “What’s going on here, Brody? Is there a job or isn’t there—you know what, even if there is, I wouldn’t want it. I can’t work for you.”
And still she hadn’t walked right out that door. “Why are you here? Do you own this place?”
“It’s one of my subsidiaries.”
Of course. She should have been suspicious when she got a call the very next day. The job search process never happened that quickly, but she’d assumed her rotten luck was turning. Damn Hunter Dade.
“Have a seat, Emma.”
She should have run from that office like hounds were nipping at her heels, but she hadn’t seen Brody in two weeks, and the void he’d left in her life had near destroyed her. Five minutes hearing whatever junk he had to deliver might tide her over. Hell, she wouldn’t even have to listen; she’d just watch that sexy mouth as it shaped words and that huge hand as it scrubbed his hair and that magic sex wand forefinger as it pushed his glasses back up his nose. Whatever garbage he had to say, she wouldn’t hear it above the pounding of her heart.
This would be her last act of selfishness. Gaze on his beauty one more time.
Setting herself down in the seat opposite him, she laced her hands over the portfolio in her lap.
“So the job you’re here about—”
“The entry-level property consultant job.” Which likely didn’t exist.
“Right. I’ve had a good look at your résumé and I think it’s only fair that you read mine. See if you’re a good fit for what we do here.” He handed a page over to her.
Heaving an annoyed sigh, she snatched it from him. Just your fairly standard billionaire résumé with name, email, addre—she blinked.
Address: Hell, Illinois.
Her gaze flickered downward as she tried not to look too absorbed in the most riveting thing she’d ever laid eyes on.
Phone Number: 1-900-IM-AN-IDIOT