8. Ana
CHAPTER 8
ANA
“ Y ou have all the right qualifications,” Derek says. “Though you haven’t managed a department yet, we think you’re capable. You impressed us at the interview.”
This is more words than I’ve heard Derek say at once, and though it sounds like high praise, and I’d typically be flattered if a prospective employer had confidence in my not-yet-proven management abilities, I can’t help but feel like this is still all about sex. Or desperation. Maybe I’m not the first applicant to have turned down their job offer.
A mischievous little thought crosses my mind, one that I’m pretty sure will bring this conversation to an end. I name a salary request that’s quite a bit larger than what they offered me yesterday. It’s a big number, one that will no doubt be denied.
“Okay,” Derek says without even blinking .
I’m sure he sees the shock in my eyes, but I manage to keep my mouth from dropping open. “Okay?” The number I named is way beyond the range that was noted in their job listing.
“Okay,” he repeats as confirmation.
Saying no to the job has been easy, but this type of money could be life changing. Not in a “you’ve won the lottery” kind of way, but in a way that would allow me to buy a new car, not worry about rent every month, and even help my family and friends. Like Stella.
Not to mention that the job title and increased responsibility are exactly what I’ve been looking for. But … “But I can’t work for you after what I did during the interview. It’s as if I took a roll on the casting couch. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I slept my way to the top.”
The faintest of grins curls his mouth. “HR manager is hardly the top, Miss Flores.”
“You know what I mean. I want to earn a job based on my education and experience, not my … well, you know.”
“I’d be bringing you in as another CEO if I were basing this offer on your … you know.” His eyes drop to the part of my body he just expertly worked, and I blush at the compliment. “We need you, Miss Flores, because we know you’ll do good work.”
I let out a sigh and look out the window at the ocean that I’ve hardly noticed was there. I need to focus on something other than Derek so I can think straight.
The job he’s offering would be a huge boost to my resume, and the money would be amazing. I could send money to Stella so Jessie could have her dance classes. I could get a better car and save for a house. And it would be good to be a part of Community Bean, with all of its charitable giving. But how could I take this job without completely abandoning my professional ethics?
As I watch a seagull dip down to the water, an idea comes to me. “What if I work for you for a limited period of time? What if it’s just a short-term contract?”
“Would that make you feel better?” He sounds as though he’s humoring me, as if my ethical concerns are silly.
“How about six months?” That should be plenty of time to help them get staffed up. And I should be able to put up with two stubborn grumps for the short term … and keep my hands off of them, or rather, keep their hands off of me, which has been more the issue.
Derek’s eyes look upward, then straight out, unfocused, as wrinkles crease between them. “Okay. Six months at—” He names a figure that’s less than the wild number I requested, but more than half of it. More than what I should earn in six months, and more than I currently make in a year.
There’s no way I can reasonably say no to this.
With my bottom lip caught between my teeth, I nod slowly. “Six months. And absolutely no more sex, in any form.” It pains me to say this, especially since I haven’t even had the chance to see his body. Today, I haven’t even had the chance to get him off.
His frown wrinkles deepen. “Why not? You’re going to want more.”
He’s not wrong. I want more right now.
A big, frustrated sigh escapes me as I remind myself why I need to do the right thing. “It can’t happen.”
Derek’s enticing lips purse as his dark eyes narrow. “We’ll see, Miss Flores.”
I’m full of second thoughts as I compose my resignation letter for the job I’ve had for over three years. It feels like I’m taking a big gamble, and while I should be excited about the opportunity, I worry about the challenges that lie ahead.
It would be easier to stay with what’s familiar and comfortable, but I know the position with Community Bean will stretch me and give me a chance to grow—if I can keep from wanting the bosses to stretch me.
I can’t decide if Derek and Jansen are a pro or a con. I’m fairly certain they’re going to be huge pains to work for, but I can’t deny that I kind of like butting heads with them. But that’s all I can do now, is metaphorically butt heads. No more body parts can actually touch!
When I only have one day left at my soon-to-be-former job, Derek shows up again as I’m heading to my car. He’s in the same sports car and he’s giving me the same smoldering gaze that short circuits my brain.
“Get in.”
“And hello to you too.” I stay outside his passenger door, hands at my side, even though they itch to follow his terse command.
“I’m taking you to dinner.”
“You are? I don’t recall receiving your invitation.” I try to take a step back from his open window, but my feet won’t cooperate.
“Get in, Ana. You’re wasting time, when you know you’re going to come with me.”
Damn it, he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I need to make things easy. And I really, really shouldn’t get into his car, because I’m going to be his employee next week.
“You’re too bossy.”
“I am your boss.”
“And that’s why I shouldn’t go out to dinner with you … unless we’re going to discuss business?”
“Sure, we can discuss business.”
As I stand there hesitantly, he repeats, “Get in, Ana.”
I know this isn’t about business, but he’s given me an excuse to go with him, even if I know I’m lying to myself. I get in, breathing in a chestful of his enticing scent as I sink into the luxury of the seat. “Why are you taking me out?”
He gives me a look that makes it very clear why he’s here, and it has nothing to do with Community Bean. “I wanted to see you.”
“We can’t have sex.”
Derek arches a brow and my heart races at how irresistibly good he looks. “I see where your mind’s at.”
I give him a look that calls him on his bullshit. He and I both know why he’s here, no matter what stories we’re telling ourselves.
“You’re not on the payroll yet,” he reasons. “Maybe we should go to my place before dinner, so you can get it out of your system.”