Chapter 6

I stand and smooth down my clothes and put my jacket back on quickly. Buttoning it up nervously, I walk the short distance to her door which blocks entrance to his.

I need all my willpower to walk into the office and all my acting ability, dredged up from somewhere deep, to pull off the undaunted, calm demeanor that I try to present at all times. My stomach turns somersaults and my throat dries up. I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble today.

“Ah, Emma, here you are.” Margo meets me as I pull open the heavy wooden door and slide in, suddenly conscious of how short I am, even in my spike heels, next to her swan-like body. She is tall for a woman, and I’m around five-foot four.

“Jake, this is Emma Anderson. She’s your new assistant-in-training, your new number two.” She smiles fondly at me and gestures me to come to her. I move beside her and get the gentle, familiar pat on my shoulder as she tries to put me at ease.

I blink a few times, pausing at the use of the name Jake.

Am I missing something here?

My brain clicking with memories from my research, it dawns on me he prefers the name Jake. He corrected many interviewers, and I remember he likes the informality, and so he encourages the use of his nickname.

All my thoughts slip away to nothing, and I’m held captive to the floor unable to speak as the object of my nerves gets out of his seat. This is what I’ve been afraid of, my reaction when faced with someone I find attractive, and it is completely new to me.

I don’t even notice the others in the room as he effortlessly glides toward me. He has the walk of someone who’s never doubted his own confidence or abilities, someone who knew early in life that he was devastatingly attractive and has the best kind of reaction from all women. It’s mesmerizing in a way but also disconcerting.

He towers above me as he approaches, putting him over the six-foot mark easily. Wearing all black, suit minus tie, and shirt with top buttons open, the overall effect makes me breathless. He’s beyond underwear-model hot; he’s like some female fantasy come to life.

Jeeze.

“Miss Anderson.” He extends his arm, and all I can do is reach out and shake the neatly manicured yet masculine hand. I’m painfully aware of the way my heart quickens, and my breath is slightly labored at the tingling sensation of his skin on mine. I immediately feel betrayed by my own body.

I push it down, abhorred that I should react this way. It’s alien to me and has me shifting on my own axis. I don’t like being forced out of my comfort zone and into new experiences.

“Mr Car—” my voice is feeble. I’m so pathetic and obvious.

“Jake! Please,” he cuts in, those green eyes taking me in, leaving me no clue to anything going on behind them. “Margo informs me she’s happy with you so far and will be training you a little more extensively to step in fully when she retires. I guess that means we should get better acquainted and on a first name basis.” He throws me a charming soft smile, and I’m not immune to the effect. It’s a gesture that hints that he knows exactly what he’s doing with it though.

So, this is how you win over women is it, Carrero? Melting them with seductive smiles. Ughhh.

My insides lurch unexpectedly. His hand is smooth and unusually warm in mine, and I’m starting to feel clammy. Anxious Emma peeks her head out only to be pushed back down with a firm shove.

Be still, Emma. Stay cool. Stop drooling.

“I’m really grateful for the opportunity.” I sound normal enough with only a slight waver in my voice this time, and I’m relieved. If anything, my years of poise are saving me from myself right now; I’m pulling off the pretense.

He subtly looks me over. There is nothing in his glance, which surprises me, just an interested appraisal as he tries to measure me up. I guess he’s used to women going all weak-kneed and pie-eyed at his presence, and it interests him that I don’t appear to be. I’m glad he can’t see my internal reactions as they are behaving disgustingly right about now.

I’m unnerved that this close he is just as handsome as his internet pictures, if not more so, and his ruggedness is intimidating. The sheer power of his shoulders and toned body strains behind the expensive clothing; I know from photographs that he prefers more casual attire than suits and ties most of the time. He is sexually intimidating and so far out of my league in every way and now, in the flesh, that is so much more obvious. I swallow hard.

“May I get you a drink, Emma? You look flushed.” His voice pours over me like honey and my mouth dries up fully. I’m blushing, heat emanating from my roots, and scowl at my inner-adolescent self. He removes his hand and walks away from me with a confident swagger toward his desk.

I’m uneasy and try to regain my equilibrium, swallowing several times to get the moisture back into my parched mouth and keeping my eyes off his ass. A drink would be good right now, if only to release my throat.

“Thank you.” I catch Margo watching me with a strange look in her eye, and I realize it’s a touch of uncertainty. Mr. Carrero moves off to a bar at the rear of the room near the side of his desk; with his back to us, he fixes me a drink.

Shit!