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Surrendering Series Box Set

By´╝ÜChelsea M. Cameron

I've been having some trouble finding a suitable candidate and I do have some free time now, so why don't you come with me and we can do an interview right now?" I wondered if he could spot all the lies. Firstly, I didn't have free time. I had a meeting I had to prepare for. Second, there was no way I could interview this guy without doing something stupid.

It had to be the cursed chin dimple. It was rendering me incapable of behaving normally.

I'd taken shit from men ever since I started at this company as an intern in high school. There was no way this guy was going to come out on top, so I rolled my shoulders back and motioned for him to follow me.

I made extra sure that my heels were loud as we marched back to the interview room, Mrs. Andrews gaping at me from where she'd been eavesdropping in the hallway. I gave her a look that told her I had everything under control and opened the door to admit Mr. Blaine.

This . . . could be interesting.

Two

"May I offer you some water? Coffee?" I motioned to the little table that had a mini water cooler and a Keurig on it. I turned my back to him for a brief second to pour myself a glass of cool water, and I could feel his eyes staring at my ass. Granted, it did look great in this skirt, but you're not supposed to ogle your future boss.




"To be honest, I'd like a Scotch on the rocks, or even a Whiskey, but I'm guessing that would be frowned upon." He was trying to throw me off; I could feel it. Two could play at that game. I turned slowly, sipping my water. I set a glass down in front of him and sucked my bottom lip into my mouth to get off the last of the water.

He watched me without blinking and I could almost see the wheels in his head turning under that gorgeous mop of hair. Something sparked in his earlobe, and for the first time I noticed a tiny diamond stud in his left ear that was out of place, given the office setting, but somehow suited him.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but this is an alcohol-free building. Unless, of course, it's one of the corporate dinners. Then all bets are off." I sat down across from him, making sure my back was as straight as possible, crossed my ankles and rested my hands on the table.

"Would I get to see you go a little wild? Let your hair down?" He motioned to my tight chignon. Oh, he knew absolutely nothing about me.

"How about we talk about you, Mr. Blaine, since you're the one that needs a job?" I put emphasis on the word "job". Mr. Blaine leaned back in his chair as if he were in his living room and gave me a whisper of a smile.

"Aren't you a little ray of sunshine?"

I fumbled with my list of normal interview questions and could only come up with a few.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" He smirked at me for a second, as if he was going to give me a wiseass answer and then changed his mind.

"I see myself being happy. Having a job I love and working with people who are reaching for the same goals. Despite my earlier comments, I'm not a slacker. I work hard and I don't take no for an answer. I just see it as an incentive to make someone say yes." He leaned forward then, placing his forearms on the table and I saw his arms flexing under the jacket. One sleeve slid up and a watch glinted on his wrist. I pulled my eyes away from the watch and back up to his eyes, which were blazing now.

The storm was raging. This . . . this was a passionate man. Was he passionate in all areas of his life, I wanted to ask, but I already knew the answer.

Unequivocally, yes.

I re-crossed my ankles and cleared my throat again, moving on to my second question.

He answered it the same way as the first, with a sincerity that was hard not to believe. I moved on to a few more questions and I realized that it was growing hot in the room, and I was wishing I could open one of the windows without making a fuss.

"So," he said when I was done with all the normal questions I could think of and was groping for something else to say, "where do you see yourself in five years, Miss Clarke?"

That was none of his business. This was his damn interview, not mine. I'd already gone through one of those. Several, actually, as I worked my way up. Being the boss' daughter only got me so far. In fact, I was pretty sure being Walter Clarke's daughter made it even harder to get where I was.

"But we're not talking about me, Mr. Blaine. This is your interview." A beat of silence followed what I said and he was studying me in a way that made me both uncomfortable and a little intrigued. He stared so openly, so confidently. Not in a gross way, more in a way that said he was just as interested in me as I was in him.

"Why can't we talk about you? Yes, I am the one who needs the job, but wouldn't it be good to see if we are . . . compatible? We will be working very closely together." Was it just me, or did he mean to make that sound dirty? To make my mind play a little fantasy of the two of us getting close? As soon as I thought it, I was picturing it.

I swear to God, I was going to kill Royce Winkle for cheating on me and forcing me to break up with him, so I wasn't getting regular sex anymore. The fact that his last name was Winkle should have been my first red flag, but he was charming and rich and liked to pay for dinner when we went out. That was before I found out that he was just after my money (big shocker) because he had a gambling problem and owed a lot of people a lot of money. He was also banging a bartender on the side, but that was just the straw that broke this camel's back.

"I suppose you have a point there. What, do you want to play twenty questions?" This was already an off-the-wall interview. Why not make it even more so?

He didn't answer so I sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if it would tell me how to deal with this guy.

"I see myself being president of this company. Dad wants to retire and sail aro

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