The Millionaire Affair(52)

Crickitt scanned the well-dressed man in front of her. He wore a  streamlined charcoal suit and crisp, white dress shirt. No tie, but  she'd bet one had been looped around his neck earlier. She allowed her  gaze to trickle to his open collar, lingering over the column of his  tanned neck before averting her eyes. What would he say if she blurted  out the figure dancing around her head?

Two hundred fifty thousand a year? Oh, sure, I know lots of people who pay out six figures for a new hire.

Well, he asked.

"Six figures," she said.

He laughed.

That's what she thought. If this Shane guy were in a position to offer  that kind of income, would he really be in a club named Lace and hitting  on a girl like her? Why hadn't he hit on someone else? Someone without a  runny nose and red-rimmed eyes. Someone like Sadie. But he'd rerouted  his friend to talk to Sadie. Why had he done that? She smoothed her  hair, considering.

Maybe you're an easy target.

He saw her crying and wanted to help? It wasn't the worst pickup line in the world, but it was close.

Crickitt instinctively slid her pinky against her ring finger to  straighten her wedding band but only felt the rub of skin on skin. For  nine years it had sat at home on her left hand. She used to think of it  as a comforting weight, but since Ronald had left, it'd become a  reminder of the now obvious warning signs she'd overlooked. The way he'd  pulled away from her both physically and emotionally. The humiliation  of scurrying after him, attempting to win his affections even after it  was too late. She lifted her shoulders under her ears, wishing she could  hide from the recurring memory, the embarrassment. Fresh tears burned  the backs of her eyes before she remembered she had a captive audience.  She squeezed her eyes closed, willing the helter-skelter emotions to go  away.         

     



 

When she opened them, she saw Shane had backed away some, either to give  the semblance of privacy or because he feared she would burst into  tears and blow her nose on his expensive jacket. She could choke Sadie  for bringing her out tonight.

Come to the club, Sadie had said. It'll get your mind off of things,  she'd insisted. But it hadn't. Even when faced with a very good-looking,  potentially helpful man, she was wallowing in self-doubt and  recrimination. She could've done that at home.

"What experience do you have, Crickitt?" Shane asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She tipped her chin up at him. Was he serious? His half smile was either  sarcastic or genuinely curious. Hard to tell. The temptation was there  to dismiss him as just another jerk in a club, but she couldn't. There  was an undeniable warmth in his dark eyes, a certain kindness in the way  he leaned toward her when he talked, like he didn't want to intimidate  her.

Maybe that's why she told him the truth.

"I'm great with people," she answered.

"And scheduling?"

She considered telling him about the twenty in-home shows she'd held  each and every month for the last seven years, but wasn't sure he  wouldn't get the wrong idea about exactly what kind of in-home shows  she'd be referring to. "Absolutely."

"Prioritizing?"

Crickitt almost laughed. Prioritizing was a necessity in her business.  She'd been responsible for mentoring and training others, as well as  maintaining her personal sales and team. It'd taken her a while to  master the art of putting her personal business first, but she'd done  it. If she focused too much on others, her numbers soon started circling  the drain, and that wasn't good for any of them.

"Definitely," she answered, pausing to consider the fire burning in her  belly. How long had it been since she'd talked about her career with  confidence? Too long, she realized. By now, her ex-husband would have  cut her off midsentence to change the subject.

But Shane's posture was open, receptive, and he faced her, his eyebrows  raised as if anticipating what she might say next. So she continued. "I,  um, I was responsible for a team of twenty-five salespeople while  overseeing ten managers with teams of their own," she finished.

She almost cringed at the calloused description. Those teams and  managers were more like family than co-workers. They'd slap her silly if  they ever heard her referring to them with corporate lingo. But if she  had to guess, Shane was a corporate man and Crickitt doubted he'd know  the first thing about direct sales.

"You sound overqualified," he said.

"That's what I …  wait, did you just say overqualified?" Crickitt  stammered. She blinked up at him, shocked. She'd fully expected him to  tell her to peddle her questionable work background elsewhere.

Shane reached into his pocket and offered a business card between two  outstretched fingers. "Even so, I'd like to talk to you in more detail.  Are you available for an interview on Monday?"

Crickitt stared at the card like it was a trick buzzer.

"I'm serious." He dropped the card on the bar. "This isn't typically how  I find employees, but"-he shrugged-"I need a personal assistant. And  someone with your background and experience is hard to come by."

She blinked at him again. This had to be some elaborate scheme to get  her to bed, right? Isn't that what Sadie told her to expect from the men  in these places?

"How about one o'clock, Monday afternoon? I have meetings in the  morning, but I should be done by then. If the job's not a good fit, at  least you looked into it."

Well. The only interview she'd managed to arrange since her  self-inflicted unemployment was for a thirty-thousand-dollar salary and  involved her working in a government office. And she'd lost that job to a  kid ten years her junior. She'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity  for an interview with this man. Even though part of her couldn't imagine  working for someone as put together as Shane. But he didn't seem  demanding, or overly confident, just …  nice.

Which brought about another niggling thought. This was too easy. And if  she'd learned a lesson from recent events, wasn't it to be cautious when  things were going suspiciously well? And this, she thought, glancing in  his direction again, was going a little too well.

"What do you say?" he asked.

Then again, as her dwindling savings account constantly reminded her,  she needed to find some sort of viable income. And soon. If the  interview turned out to be a sham, the experience would still be  worthwhile, she thought with knee-jerk optimism.         

     



 

"One o'clock," she heard herself say.

Shane extended his hand and she shook it, ignoring how seamlessly her  palm fit against his and the warmth radiating up her arm even after he'd  pulled away. He excused himself and made his way to the door. Crickitt  watched his every long-legged step, musing how he was taller than Ronald  and walked with infinitely more confidence.

A tall, confident man had approached her. And, okay, it may have been  because she looked needy, but she couldn't keep from being flattered  that Shane had taken it upon himself to talk to her.

Lifting the business card between her thumb and fingers, she studied the  front. The top read, AUGUST INDUSTRIES, LEADER IN BUSINESS STRATEGIES.  No name on the card, just an address and a phone number. She flipped it  over. Blank.

Sadie returned as Crickitt hopped off her bar stool.

"Where're you going?" Sadie asked with a breathless smile. Shane's  cousin stood at Sadie's side, a matching grin on his tanned face.  Crickitt regarded his surfer-dude style skeptically. Cute. A departure  from Sadie's usual type, but cute.

Of course, there was a good chance Sadie would never see Aiden again  given her first-date-only rule. Crickitt looked down at the business  card again, chewing her lip. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to see Shane  again, either. She already felt as if she'd revealed too much about  herself in their short conversation. Wasn't it too soon for her to trust  a man after the one she'd trusted implicitly had left her behind?

"What's with the card? Did you get a date?" Sadie asked.

"No." She laughed, her temporarily reclaimed confidence ebbing. She  considered crumpling the card in her hand, dropping it onto the bar. The  message would get back to Shane via his cousin, she was sure. Then she  wouldn't have to worry about standing him up or canceling the interview.

Chicken.

Despite the very tempting option to stay in her comfort zone, Crickitt  decided maybe it was time to take a risk. Even a small one.

"Better," she told Sadie, snapping up her purse. "A job."





Sadie Howard never dates a guy more than once-but fate has other plans  for her when it comes to Aiden Downey, the one who got away …

Please turn this page for an excerpt from book 2 in the Love in the Balance series,





Hard to Handle.





CHAPTER ONE


Aiden Downey spun his beer by its neck, the now warm contents sloshing  against the sides of the bottle. He'd been watching Sadie from his chair  at the back of the reception tent for the better part of thirty  minutes, unable to shake the guilt swamping him.