Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (29 page)

“I’d like to apply for the supervisor position.”

His gaze returned to me, like he was evaluating me right then and there, then it drifted back to the computer screen. “Okay. I can set your interview for four tomorrow. Does that work with your schedule?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“See you then.” The computer dinged with a new email and his focus left me, dismissing me. When I got back to my desk, I pulled up short. Jamie waited in my chair.

“Did you just come from Logan’s office?” Suspicion coated her voice.

“Yeah.” I tried to hide my frustration. I wasn’t pleased she was sitting in my chair, and I was even less thrilled with her question.

“Are you two, like, friends?” She asked it with an even mixture of disdain and accusation.

“No. I applied for the supervisor position.”

Her face flooded with surprise. “You did? You’re not even a senior.”

“Logan didn’t say that was a requirement.”

She relinquished the chair to me as if just realizing it wasn’t hers. “You’re right, he didn’t. Anyway, I wanted to ask if I could borrow your uncoated swatch deck. Mine’s gone missing again.”

I dug through my drawer and pulled the fan of color swatches out. She took it and nodded
thanks
, but lingered. “Sorry, I just thought it was weird, seeing Logan and then you at Spiro’s, and Debbie said you’ve been in his office a lot recently.”

I shrugged, but inside I cursed nosy Debbie whose cube was closest to Logan’s door. “If I have, it’s to go over the GoodFoods account.”

A smile broke on her face. “Yeah, of course. You know Debbie,” she said, although I really didn’t. “Always spreading rumors.”

She began her trek back to her cube, but my word stopped her. “Rumors?”

“That you and Logan were friends, maybe more. I told her it wasn’t true.” She paused. “Unless . . . Are you?”

It wasn’t a lie, I told myself.
Be convincing.
“No. Logan Stone and I are not friends.”

She flashed me a smile, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she went. “Yeah, I told her that’d be crazy.”

God, it was like being back in high school.

Logan and I ate frozen pizza at his place, and I debated telling him about my conversation with Jamie. I made it two slices before it spilled out of me.

“There’s a rumor going around the office that we’re friends.”

He blinked. “Wow, juicy.”

“Debbie thinks we might be more, just because I’ve gone into your office a few times. I mean, honestly, she thinks I’m going in there to get it on with you in the middle of the day?”

I could tell from his playful smile he wasn’t going to let me off easy. “
Get it on
? Is that what we’re doing?”

“Let me revise. Does she think I’m going in there to fuck your brains out?”

The smile widened into a full-out grin. “That does seem to be a more adequate description.”

“Stop distracting me from my worrying.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. They’ve been running low on drama in the department. When the PC staff comes on board that will give them more to work with.”

“Assuming everything . . .” How to phrase it? “. . . works out like you want it to, how long do we have to pretend at the office?”

He considered the statement. “We’ll have to play it by ear, but I would think a few months.”

It’s not like we were in some elaborate scheme, hiding our love. At the same time, I had lied today, and we’d lied to his family about how long we’d been together, lied to my parents about how we’d met . . . The lies were piling up.

“Is that okay?” He seemed to be trying to read my thoughts.

When Kathleen found out she’d been passed over the promotion she thought was in the bag, she was going to be upset. Finding out it went to me, who wasn’t even a senior, would leave her beyond pissed. If she had an inkling Logan and I were in a relationship, she’d go screaming to Jon about favoritism in a heartbeat. It would be a disaster, and no matter how Logan defended his position, how could he come through that unscathed?

“Yeah,” I said. “I can pretend that we’re not . . . getting it on.”

“Good. Oh, by the way,” he dug a hand in his pocket and set something down on the counter, “this is yours.” His palm lifted to reveal metal. A key.

Whoa. It wasn’t exactly the same as telling me he loved me, but it was pretty damn close.

“You sure you want to do that? All of your other girlfriends will have to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, mocking me. “And I had so many.”

Did he have a clue that being girlfriend number two to him made me feel like number one?

I sat at my desk and stared at my uneaten lunch. Knowing Logan had me as the front-runner should have been helpful, but all my nerves whispered back to me was, what would happen if it didn’t go well? What if what I said in the interview changed his mind?

The interviews started at one. I saw Gary’s mop of black hair turn the corner into Logan’s office and shut the door. Gary had even worn a tie. The atmosphere at the agency was relaxed, and a lot of designers wore jeans and flip-flops. Not me. I wanted people to know how seriously I took my work, and looking the part helped.

Gary’s interview didn’t last too long. Thirty minutes later he was back at his cube and the tie was gone. At two, Maurice was up. He was another senior designer, but honestly, I didn’t view him as much competition. He was timid and quiet. I couldn’t imagine him managing some of the full-bodied personalities we had here.

My competition went into his office two minutes before three. Kathleen wore a beautifully cut charcoal gray pantsuit with a sunflower yellow necklace. She looked every bit the part of a professional manager when she breezed into Logan’s office, and her interview lasted a long time. So long, I began to worry what I was going to do if the interview ran over into my timeslot. Should I knock? Wait outside the door? Thankfully, it swung open before I had to make a decision, and Kathleen exited.

I squashed my nerves for the millionth time and went into his office. They said if you were uncomfortable, you should picture the other person in their underwear. Yeah, well, that wasn’t any help. I knew exactly what he looked like in his underwear. Or with absolutely nothing on at all.

I shut the door. When I turned to his desk, he wasn’t there, because he was standing before me. I took a confused step toward the pair of chairs facing his desk, but his hands encircled my waist.

“What are you doing?” I whispered in the moment before he set his mouth on mine. His sweet kiss lingered on my lips even after it was gone. “What about my interview?”

“We’ll get there. I need a minute to recover. You mind?” His hushed voice was so sexy it made my knees soften.

“Um . . . no, I guess not.”

I went to sit and face him while he sat behind his desk. He arched his back and stretched up as if trying to shake loose the tedium of the interviewing process. When it was done, his gaze drifted over my body, upward until his eyes found mine.

“Why do you want the job,” he asked, “Evelyn?”

Evelyn, not Evie, because we were at work. Because the interview had now begun. I fed him the talking points I’d drafted from my research. He listened respectfully and said nothing. Then came a sharp look that made me feel about three pixels tall.

“I want to know the real reason you want the position,” he said. “Not some bullshit answer you think I want to hear.”

His aggressive tone disabled my filter. “Because it’s a stepping stone to yours.”

“You want my job? What about me?” His eyes glittered with interest.

“You’ll be Creative Director.”

His mouth went slack with what I guessed was surprise.

“Don’t you think that will go to Chase McCutchen in PR when Will retires?” His voice was . . . unsure. “They’re not going to give it to someone in print.”

I could see everything behind those gorgeous mahogany irises. Like me, he wanted to reach for a job he might be too inexperienced or too young to land. But I believed no one would work harder or be better at it than he would.

“No, I don’t think they’ll give it to Chase. Not if he has to go up against you for it.”

He blew out a breath and an emotion streaked his face, like I’d just said the most flattering thing he’d ever heard. He hesitated and visibly struggled to pull himself back on topic.

“Tell me about a difficult situation in your work and how you handled it.”

I swallowed a breath. This was going to be a gamble. “When I first started, I was paired with a senior designer—”

“Austin.”

“He had difficulty working as a team. He fought me on everything, told me that he knew better because he was a senior. He used it as an excuse to steamroll me.” I had to still my nervous hands, folding them into my lap. “Austin wouldn’t take my suggestions. I tried being nice, I tried to give him time, but when the customer was screaming for a new direction and Austin wouldn’t budge, I ran out of options.”

“You did it yourself.”

“I gave it to our manager and told him Austin and I had collaborated, but Austin hadn’t even seen it.”

Logan straightened in his chair. “Do you think telling me a story about going behind another designer’s back is a good idea?”

“I’m hoping you’ll understand I’m willing to do something that makes me unpopular if it’s going to get the customer what they want, plus I’m not a pushover. I can stand up to someone who has more experience when I believe they’re wrong.”

He looked pleased. My opening answer had disappointed him, but this one did not.

“Austin was an asshole and a shit designer. Notice he’s not around anymore?” He’d been let go Logan’s second week as manager, and the firing had sent a clear message that Logan was going to run a tight ship.

“It didn’t make you popular,” Logan continued, his voice dropping down low. “But it made people in the department notice you.” His expression crept back into a smile. “And, just so you’re aware, it put you on my radar.”

“Oh.” That’s all I could get out.

“This position requires you spend less time designing. Will you have a hard time sacrificing that creative outlet so you can manage?” His voice was professional and business-like.

“I’ve made much bigger sacrifices to get what I want. Was it hard for you to give up the creativity?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Because professionally we were so much alike.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

I wanted to ask it in a subtle way, but the interview had gone off the rails the moment he’d kissed me. “Salary?”

“Negotiable, but we’d like it in the upper fifties.” Only about ten grand more than I was making now. I fell silent, focusing on that number.

“Any other questions?”

I shook my head.

“Okay, we’ll be making a decision sometime in the coming weeks, and I’ll let you know. Thanks for your interest, Evelyn.”

I climbed out of the chair, and he rose as well. I only made it halfway to the door when a hand curled around my waist.

“Wait.” His breath whispered the hair by my ear. “Evie.”

He spun me in his hands to face him, and his kiss was untamed. It sank down through my body like liquid love, filling every inch of me. He hadn’t said the words, but he had no problem showing them to me. I buried my hands inside his suit jacket, letting fingers dance over his defined chest, covered in the lightly starched dress shirt. Every passing moment he continued to kiss me was more dangerous than the last.