Jordyn's Army, page 39
Well, that’s not so bad, I suppose. At least I’ll have my clothes for my interview tomorrow. Before I can respond, she continues in a rush. “We will, of course, have it delivered wherever you’re staying, ma’am. Free of charge, of course.”
I scoff and shake my head in frustration. “I would expect so.”
“Can you give me an address where we can have it delivered, and a phone number to reach you at?”
I sigh, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm my nerves. I’ll have my clothes by this evening. Everything is going to be fine. I just need to breathe. I blink my lids open and award her with the most gracious smile I can muster. “Of course. I’m staying at The Sapphire Resorts on Wall Street. My cell number is 213-774-8448.”
“Thank you, Ms. Adams.” She slides a card across the counter to me. “Please, feel free to call me if you have any other issues at all. I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Thank you, I appreciate your help,” I reply, about to walk away, but then step back to the counter. “Can you tell me which direction I can find a taxi?”
She smiles, then points to my left. “Just go up those stairs and straight through the sliding doors. The taxi station will be on your right.”
“Thanks again.” Less than five minutes later, I’m up the stairs and about to walk through the sliding doors when a hand latches onto arm, stopping me in my tracks. I spin around, then freeze, the corners of my mouth lifting in recognition. “Fin.”
“Chloe.” He draws me from of the doorway, out of the way of foot traffic, then releases his hold. “I thought that was you.”
“You’re still here?” I ask, finding it curious that he is.
“So are you, it seems.” He chuckles, his fingers brushing over the stubble lining his face. “I ran into a colleague. We had a quick drink before his flight.” He lifts his chin toward me. “What’s your excuse?”
I frown, lifting my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Lost luggage. It seems it never made it onto our plane in Los Angeles.”
“Well, shit. That’s not good news for the snappy outfit you planned on wearing to your interview tomorrow,” he teases, a smile tugging on his lips.
“Yes, well, don’t you fret. I’m told it’s on the next flight in and will be delivered to my hotel this evening.”
“Phew.” He chuckles again. “Not that I don’t think you look exceptional in that outfit.” His eyes trail over my bare legs for at least the third time today. “But, I don’t believe it meets the dress code for the restaurant I’m planning on taking you to tomorrow evening.”
“We could always grab a hot dog and take a walk through Central Park instead,” I suggest. “I am a simple girl, truth be told.”
He shakes his head back and forth, the dimple in his cheek appearing as he gives me a wide smile. “Chloe, there isn’t anything simple about you.”
I feel my traitorous cheeks heat, belying the confidence I want to portray, but give it my best shot anyway. “Fin, the same could be said about you.”
He lets out a huff of laughter, his eyes twinkling as they stay locked on me. “You need a ride? I’ve got a car. I can drop you at your hotel if you like? Especially now that I know you’re traveling light.”
“I was just headed to grab a taxi, as a matter of fact.” I look behind me through the doors, noting the long line of people waiting. “Are you sure it’s not an imposition?”
His large, warm hand presses flat against my back before I can blink, leading me outside, across one lane of traffic and to a waiting town car. A middle-aged man in a dark suit leaning against the car jumps to attention, moving to open the back door for us. “Good evening, sir.”
“Hey, Jimmy.” Fin’s hand slides from my waist down the length of my arm to grasp my knuckles as I lower myself into the car. “We’ll have an extra stop tonight.”
“No problem. You just tell me where to go.” The door shuts hard and firm, both men suddenly gone, the door on the other side of the car opening a second later, Fin sliding in beside me with ease.
It’s then that I notice he doesn’t have any luggage with him either, and I comment on it. “You don’t have any bags?”
“I have a place here. A place in Los Angeles. There’s usually no need,” he explains before changing the topic. “Are you going to the hotel?”
I nod. He knows where I’m staying because I gave him my information earlier so he can pick me up tomorrow evening. He instructs the driver where to drop me, then turns his attention back to me. “Sure you don’t want to do dinner tonight?”
One corner of my mouth lifts, but I shake my head. “No. I need a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.” I point my finger at him. “And don’t try to change the subject,” I scoff. “Mister I have a place in NY and LA and I don’t need luggage, but I’m going to try to pretend I’m not rich.’”
“I never said I wasn’t rich,” he states. “You made the assumption I was, and I didn’t dispute it.” He squints as he continues to assess me, scooting a little closer, his voice low when he continues. “Why, does it bother you that I am?”
“Hmmm, no.” I purse my lips as my perusal of him blatant. “It’s just not fair that you’re this damn good looking and rich.”
His head falls back as laughter erupts from deep in his chest, amusement lighting up his eyes as they find their way back to mine. “Some guys get all the luck, I guess.”
“I guess,” I muse, my gaze shifting to his full lips before tracking a slow trail up to his gorgeous green ones.
“You really need to stop looking at me like that.” His voice grows even lower, a slight growl to its edge, as he leans even closer.
“Like what?” I whisper, his face a breath from mine.
My eyes flutter shut as his whiskered cheek presses against my smooth one, his breath hot in my ear as he speaks. “Like you want me to kiss you.” His nose ruffles against my hair, loose strands drifting toward him as he inhales, humming when he exhales. “Roses.” His lips trail over my skin, up the edge of my face before leaving a soft kiss on my forehead. My eyes flicker as he pulls away, his gaze locking with mine. “If I kiss you now, I won’t stop.”
“So?” I mutter, desperate to feel his lips on mine. “I’m not saying stop.”
“And I don’t want you to.” He slides away from me but keeps a hand on my bare thigh. “Which is why I don’t mind waiting until tomorrow.”
I can’t help the frown that I know mars my expression, but I just don’t care. I’ve spent over six hours next to this man, this demi-god, and Jesus, he has me hot and bothered. I’m not giving up without a little bit of a fight. “We don’t have to.”
He answers on a low chuckle. “We do. For the sake of your interview.” He leans forward again, his hand sliding up my thigh until it stops just below the seam of my very short shorts. “Because, Chloe, once I start, it’s going to last a very, very long time, and I don’t want to be the blame for you not looking rested at your interview.”
I shift my eyes to his, my tongue swiping across my lips, dry from the short, quick breaths leaving them, and nod. He responds by cocking one side of his tempting mouth into a devilish grin, his fingers drifting like a feather down the length of my leg before they lift off my skin. He shifts back just as the driver pulls up in front of my hotel.
Sweet holy mother of God, I think I just came. Thank goodness my luggage is getting delivered tonight.
4
Losing Altitude
I take one last look in the mirror, adjust the cuff on my sleeve under my jacket, then stroll out of my room, through the hotel, and into a waiting car. This is it. The interview I’ve waited my entire career for. What I’ve been working toward for the last twelve years. Today, it either pays off, or I go back to Los Angeles with my tail between my legs and keep on fighting the fight.
When the driver pulls up in front of the address, my eyes stare wide-eyed at the building towering over us. We have some tall buildings in Los Angeles, but none compare to the structures lining the streets of this city. I step onto the sidewalk, thanking the driver who’s holding the door open for me. “Go in through those doors, miss, and tell the front desk who you’re here to see. They’ll take care of you from there.”
I do as he instructs, taking a fortifying gulp of courage as I approach the man standing behind the large counter. “Good morning. Chloe Adams for an interview with Harrison, Harrison & Watkins.”
“Of course, Ms. Adams.” The gentleman motions to a ledger. “If you can just sign here, and I’ll need to see a form of identification.”
After the verification preliminaries, I’m given a temporary identification badge and escorted to an elevator that whisks me to the sixty-fifth floor. I know from researching the company that the law office occupies floors sixty to sixty-five. I also know that only the founding and senior partners occupy the top, makes things a whole lot scarier. “You got this. You got this,” I murmur to myself over and over, not stopping until the doors slide open.
“Ms. Adams.” A sharp dressed woman is waiting in the wings as I step out of the elevator, surprising me when she speaks. She walks in my direction, her hand flying up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“Please, it’s fine.” I laugh, trying to dismiss the moment. “I just didn’t see you. Let’s try this again.” I extend my hand. “Chloe Adams. Nice to meet you.”
“Gina Crosby.” She clutches my fingers for only a moment then releases them. “I’m the executive assistant to Mr. Harrison.” She pauses and looks my way as she leads me to an office. “Jefferson, not Griffin.” She shakes her head, waving a hand in the air. “It can be so confusing having father and son on the same floor.” She stops in front of a conference room then turns to me. “Your meeting will be held in here.”
She opens the door, holding it wide for me to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” She watches as I pull out one of the cushioned leather chairs, and then as I lower myself into it, nodding once I’m seated. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, water?”
I smile politely. “No, thank you, Ms. Crosby.”
“Very good.” She smiles back at me. “I’ll let Mr. Peters know you’re here. He shouldn’t be long.” She turns on her heel and strides away before I can reply.
I try to sit patiently, but that lasts about three minutes before I stand and move to one of the windows. The view is astounding. Something I could definitely get used to. I press my hand against the glass to lean forward, trying to see if I can catch a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. I startle when someone behind me clears their throat. I spin around, embarrassment flaring in my cheeks (yet again), as my eyes land on a man in his mid-forties, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.
“It’s a nice view, yes?” He steps further into the room, shutting the door behind him as he does, and stops when he’s a foot shy of me. “Ms. Adams?”
“Mr. Peters?” I grip the hand he’s reached out to me and shake it. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“For enjoying the view?” He releases his hold to wave my apology away. “Don’t be silly.” He moves to sit at the table. “Please, take a seat, and please, call me Ross.”
I sit in the chair I claimed earlier, clasp my hands in front of me, and dive in. “It’s truly an honor to meet you, Ross. I’ve been an admirer of yours for many years. I truly appreciate the opportunity and consideration of this position.”
“It’s you who deserves admiration. I’ve been watching you the past year. You’re good. You’ve earned that seat you’re sitting in right now.” He slides a folder across the table to me and points to it. “We’re already prepared to make you an offer. Everything you need to know is in that folder, but let’s talk a little more about the role.”
My heart thunders in my chest at his words. They’re already making me an offer? I was not expecting the process to move at such a quick pace. I give myself a mental shake and concentrate on what Ross is saying. We spend the next hour talking about the position, how I’d integrate and work with him, and the current media concerns of the company. It’s everything I want and more.
“So, if you don’t have any further questions, I think we’re done.” Ross concludes, rising to move around the table to shake my hand. “I hope the next time I see you, it’s to show you to your new office here at Harrison, Harrison & Watkins. It’s truly been a pleasure.”
“Thank you again.” I shake his hand and smile warmly. “I promise I’ll be in touch with my decision quickly.”
“Mr. Harrison will stop by in just a minute to give you our official partner pitch.” He gives me a wink. “But make no mistake, the job is yours if you want it.” With that, he gives me a quick wave and exits the room.
I can’t help the grin that’s plastered to my face. This is really happening. I knew I was a good candidate for the position, but this seemed way too easy. I reach over with two fingers and pinch the skin on the back of my hand to make sure this isn’t some crazy dream I’m having. “Ouch!” I flinch at my own action.
“I was right.” A deep voice sounds in front of me, goosebumps bursting across my flesh at the familiar tone, my head snapping up. “You look like a million bucks in that outfit.”
“Fin?” I take a step back, blinking rapidly to make sure what, or who, I’m seeing in front of me is real. I watch, speechless, as the door shuts quietly behind him and he strides towards me. He looks even more handsome, as if that was even possible, in the dark suit he’s wearing, the crisp white of his shirt making his eyes look even brighter.
“I don’t think we ever formally introduced ourselves.” The corners of his lips twitch as he takes one of my hands into his, the heat that surrounds my fingers intimate as he grips them. “Griffin Harrison, Senior Partner at Harrison, Harrison & Watkins.”
My mouth falls open as I take another step back, my hand dragging out of his as realization dawns. “Holy shit. You knew who I was the entire time.”
“Well, the company did book your ticket,” he chides. “And, not coincidentally, mine too, making sure we were seated together.”
“So, what is this?” I cross my arms over my chest and lock them there in an effort to restrain myself from slapping him. “Some kind of scheme to embarrass me? Trick me into telling you something or showing you something about myself that you may not discover in an interview?”
He scratches the scruff lining his otherwise perfect face, a gleam in his eyes as he stares back at me. After what seems like moments, but in actuality is just a few seconds, he explains. “Not a trick. Just a unique way of getting to know what someone is really like in a more relaxed setting.” He paces back and forth then stands in front of me again. “We had already made the decision to hire you, sight unseen, given your reputation and all the different ways we could watch your work online. When we realized that I would be flying back to this office on the same flight as you, I asked them to book my seat next to yours. I wanted to make sure we were getting someone authentic and not someone who knew how to easily contrive herself, as well as the media.”
“Like the genuine way you represented yourself?” I stomp a foot then throw a hand up as I continue. “You completely misrepresented yourself! And took advantage of me in a situation I obviously wasn’t aware of!”
“How exactly did I take advantage of you, Chloe?” He takes a step forward, which I counter, flinching when I feel myself bump up against the window, feeling like a fly in a spider’s web. My eyes dart up to his as he continues. “By sharing a couple drinks? A meal? Watching a movie together.” He smirks. “Which you fell asleep to, by the way.” He steps a little closer. “Or was it when I held your hand through a patch of rough air?”
I stare back at him, my breathing shallow, his closeness only causing me to be more confused. Why does he have to smell so Goddamn delicious? I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, then make my appeal. “Because you knew who I was. And how much I wanted this job. And how attracted I was to you. And you invited me to dinner. You don’t do that to a possible colleague.” I raise my eyes to his. “How will I ever know if I got this job because I’m the best you could hire, or if it’s because my boss wants to sleep with me!”
“First, if I wanted to sleep with you, I could have done that last night.” His eyes bore into mine as he grits out his response. “Second, I’m not your boss. Ross Peters is. I’m just one of the partners who work here. Third, you’re getting this job based entirely on your own merits and because Ross loves your work.” He takes another step forward, his body now leaning into mine, his voice a growl as he finishes. “And let’s get one more thing clear. I don’t want to just sleep with you. I want to fuck you, long and hard, and then I’m going to want to do it again.”
“Fin.” I gasp when his hips thrust against mine, making his intentions more than clear. “Don’t make this more difficult for me.” I look up into his eyes, almost giving in right there. “You know I’m attracted to you. How are we supposed to work together?”
He releases my arm, taking a step back as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. He tilts his head toward the ceiling, a long breath leaving his lips before he looks at me again and begins to speak. “I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to be sneaky, or even a trick. The last thing I ever expected was to be so attracted to you. Or you to me.”
I snort. “Really?” I wave my hand up and down the length of his body with a dramatic flair. “How could anyone not be attracted to that?”
“Not this again.” He bows his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “Listen, there is no one that is better for this job than you. It’s yours. On a silver platter.” He steps over to the table and leans against it. “Chloe, the bottom line is the company wants you. To be honest, your job and any direct interaction you’d have with me will be minimal at best. You deal with Ross. Ross deals with the partners and clients. If this were a conflict of interest for me, I wouldn’t even broach it.”
