“He’s waiting for you,” she whispered to me. “Good luck.”
I watched her join the other women, a part of me hoping someone would go in with me.
Get a grip, Stewart. You’re an adult. There’s nothing to be scared of.
Taking a deep breath, I started to count backwards.
Three.
Two.
One.
The door flew open, and I stepped back in shock.
“Aren’t you coming in?” he asked, knitting his eyebrows together.
I had been so immersed in my thoughts and worries that I had left my potential future boss waiting. For a moment, I stared into his eyes.
Holy cow.
Another arrogant guy.
Could my day get any worse?
I sounded bitter in my thoughts, I realized, already hating the whole male population when dating would soon become a perquisite—even a necessity—to distract me and help get me over my feelings for Jett.
“Sorry,” I muttered and rushed in, closing the door behind me.
“You still want to do the interview, right?” Grayson turned to regard me with an amused expression.
I stared at him, perplexed. “Yeah. Of course I do.”
Even though he was the owner of GR Photography and, according to Thalia, had been successful for a number of years, he didn’t look much older than thirty. His dirty blond hair was cropped short and messy in a sexy way, and he was dressed in jeans and a dark blue polo T-shirt that fit his tan body. Unlike Jett, he wasn’t all muscles and dark hair and green eyes, but he compensated in height. His blue eyes and scruffy beard gave him a stylish rock-star appearance and made him look rugged and masculine—and absolutely not the way I had envisioned him.
What the heck are you doing comparing this guy to Jett?
I groaned inwardly. At the rate I was going, I’d never get over Jett.
Never.
Because, apparently, I couldn’t stop fawning over Jett’s pair of sinfully sexy eyes and the kind of body that keeps you hot and sweaty at night.
Focus, Stewart. Focus. First, the job interview. Then the self-loathing.
His brows shot up. “Well?”
Damn.
Had I been so absorbed that I didn’t notice he had been waiting for me to introduce myself? Suppressing the urge to turn on my heels and run out the door to get back to my dark thoughts and dwell in the aftermath of the recent discoveries, I cleared my throat.
“Yes. I’m Br—” I took a deep breath, realizing my mistake. “Jenna.”
He shook my extended hand and sat down at his desk.
“Please take a seat.” He pointed to a chair that faced his desk and his blue eyes began to measure me up and down with the air of a professional.
I forced my legs to move, though all I managed was to stumble forward and plop into the chair with the grace of a grizzly bear. “Thank you.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat as I settled into the chair. His penetrating presence did nothing to calm down the frantic beating of my heart. Now I knew why I had never liked job interviews: They always made you feel inferior, as if I had messed up and had just been given a tiny chance to prove in less than ten seconds that I was worth the hassle. Smiling at Grayson, I realized this felt even worse because I wasn’t just applying for any job. I also had to prove I had what it took in the looks and sex appeal department while, under Grayson’s scrutinizing eyes, I felt completely exposed—even more so because, even though he was a bit too lean for my taste, he was still good-looking.
I expected him to sit back and start the usual interrogation, but he stood and walked around the desk, then stopped just inches away from me, his leg almost brushing mine in the process.
“All right.” He sighed and folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the desk. “So... Jenna, right?”
I nodded.
“Thalia tells me you’re interested in working for me. Have you modeled before?”
“No.” I forced the word past my lips in a hesitant huff. I had expected the question, but not straight away, and it unsettled me. “I don’t have any experience in modeling at all.”
“It’s okay,” Grayson said, as though reading my mind. “A lot of girls start here with nil experience. I like to see them as diamonds in the rough that only have to be cut and polished into priceless gems.”
Wow. No modesty there.
For some reason, the analogy made him instantly likeable. I smiled, and he pushed a clipboard toward me, inclining his head in the process, silently urging me to take a look. I peered at the questionnaire and then back at him.
“Let’s start with a few basic questions to see if you’re suitable for the job,” Grayson said.
“Great.” I watched him unscrew the lid of his pen and grab the clipboard out of my hand.