Free Office Toy by Cleo Peitsche Page B

a place to dump the coffee. The glossy-leafed philodendrons in the corner probably wouldn't appreciate it, but philodendrons were hard to kill in her experience, and at least she wasn't going to risk scalding their roots. She leaned over and dumped the mug's contents into the pot.
    "Miss Girdley."
    Elle jumped up. Brian Cunningham stood there, his brow creased, his full lips turned down at the corners. "Those are plastic." He didn't sound amused.
    Momentarily stunned by the glowering male who loomed over her, Elle could only gawk. The photos hadn't captured the way his large, athletic body seemed to fill the entire room, or the way his eyes gleamed with intelligence. And that voice ... even scolding her, his voice was so sexy that she wanted to plunge her fingers into her panties. Or maybe it was especially because he was scolding her. The sudden rush of heat between her legs was barely sufferable, but the accompanying wetness made her squirm.
    What could she say? Just barrel through it, act like nothing strange had happened. That's what Mama would have done, and for once Elle was going to follow her example. She stuck out her hand. "So, um, thank you for this opportunity." She meant to project confidence, but her voice trembled just a little.
    "Don't thank him yet," the receptionist said dryly. He slid behind his desk—without a glass of water, Elle noticed—and sneered. When Cunningham turned, the resigned look the receptionist gave him made Elle uneasy. Something very odd was going on in this office. It felt like she'd walked into the middle of a power struggle.

    Luckily, the conference room was devoid of hostile employees. Cunningham motioned for Elle to enter before him, and she felt his eyes traveling down her tightly-wrapped curves.
    He closed the door behind them with a little click, then took a bottle of water from a tray, loosened the top and handed it to her.
    "Thanks." She met his unwavering gaze. He was so intense, she wondered if he'd somehow detected how turned on she was. She averted her eyes and focused on sipping the water, trying to look casual about it, hoping he didn't notice the blush rising on her skin.
    "Go ahead and open your portfolio."
    Elle wasn't expecting that. She'd had over a dozen interviews and they always started with some chitchat about her education, her plans. Cunningham had already covered all of that on the phone, but he had also seen an emailed sample of her work, too. She unzipped the large case and decided this way was easier. Her work would speak far better than she could. Cunningham made her feel like a schoolgirl unprepared for the big exam.
    He moved quickly through her samples. When he reached the end, he pulled up a bit on the back cover of the portfolio as if to suggest that her body of work wasn't substantial enough.
    "So I just graduated last spring," Elle said hastily. "So I don't have a lot of samples, but they're all from the last six months." She'd told him that, but he'd probably forgotten.
    "You start a lot of sentences with the word 'so,'" Cunningham said as he flipped through the portfolio a second time. "You've got talent, but talent will only take you so far. Part of this job is projecting a good image to our clients." His eyes traveled down her cheap, faux-silk blouse, the barely knee-length polyester skirt, the modest heels from Bargain Bin. Elle blushed scarlet as his gaze slowly wandered back up her body.
    Cunningham leaned against the sturdy conference table. Behind him, the sky was cloudless. Elle suddenly wished she could jump out the window and glide somewhere far away. But anywhere she went, she'd still be herself, Elle Girdley, awkward, graceless, unsure of herself and with a sad resume of jobs that a high schooler could perform.
    "Do you want this position?"
    "Yes." She forced herself to meet his eyes and projected as much sincerity as she could, hoping to disguise the desperation welling up in her chest. "Cunningham & Associates is a great company