“It’s not like that—” Willa sighed. Maybe it is. Willa stepped out of the doorway when several men walked by in suits. They didn’t notice her at all. She gave her reflection another look. Her hair was tied back. She’d worn subtle makeup. “I’m not supposed to look like I’m going dancing. It’s a job interview, for God’s sake.”
“Be careful with a man like Clay. Don’t take anything he says seriously.”
“What does that mean?”
Lexi sighed. “I mean if he compliments you or asks you out say no. Don’t let him confuse you. I liked him when I met him, but I’m not so sure now. I don’t trust him, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Have a little faith in me, Lexi. I’m not as naïve as you think I am.”
“Good. Then get in there, get that job, and get out the minute it becomes weird. You don’t owe him anything just because you agree to work for him. Remember that.”
“Okay.”
“And if you have your blouse buttoned up to your neck like a nun, please undo the top two.”
Willa touched the top button of her blouse, which was securely closed. “Why would I want to do that?”
Lexi sighed in disgust. “I give up. Good luck with your interview.”
“Thanks.” Not sure what else to say, Willa hung up and turned off her phone, placing it back in her purse. She raised her chin in determination and walked into the building. I’m going to get this job and not because of what I’m wearing.
Once inside, she entered the elevator with several businessmen and pressed the number for her floor. She fiddled with the button near her neck. I’m not the prude Lexi thinks I am.
Am I?
I button my shirt up this high because it’s more comfortable this way.
If I wanted to show cleavage, I could. It wouldn’t bother me at all. She undid the first button and then the second. With a touch of defiance, she spread the V of the neckline open and smiled. She glanced down. The edge of her bra was still tastefully concealed.
When she raised her eyes she caught a man next to her watching her with interest. He looked about her age, but pale and soft like a man who spent too many hours at a desk. She blushed and looked away. He probably thinks I’m stripping.
I don’t care. His opinion of me doesn’t matter either.
Willa undid the third button of her shirt. It brought the V of the neckline down to the very tip of her bra. If she leaned the wrong way, she’d likely give someone quite a glimpse of her—she made a face as she remembered she’d worn a practical white cotton bra.
She raised her eyes and caught the man across from her still watching her. She glared at him. He looked away. She refastened the third button, but left the top two undone.
I’m not a prude.
Willa was relieved to step out of the elevator when it came to the correct floor. She approached the receptionist and gave her name. “I’m here to see Mr. Landon.”
The young woman gave her a puzzled look. “Do you have an appointment? He’s in with Mr. Marshall at the moment.”
“I have an interview.”
The woman’s eyebrows rose and fell. “I’ll see if he’s available.” She held a pen above a piece of paper and looked at Willa pointedly.
“Willa Chambers.”
The woman nodded, wrote the name down, then picked up the phone on her desk. “Mr. Marshall? I have a Willa Chambers here. She said she has an interview with Mr. Landon.” She hung up the phone and waved a hand in the direction of a circle of chairs. “He’ll be just a few minutes.”
Willa nodded and took a seat. While waiting she had time to look around. The waiting area was flanked by offices. Some of the doors were open. Others were closed. These were Dax’s people, and the atmosphere was fast-paced and intense. The people coming and going from the offices were all well dressed in outfits that put her department-store suit to shame. Some of the women were in outfits Lexi would have chosen. Some were dressed in slacks and blazers. They all reeked of success and money. Dax’s receptionist, however, was dressed conservatively.
The door to Dax’s office opened. Willa stood while Dax and Clay walked toward her. Dax smiled in greeting, but it looked forced. Clay ran a critical eye over her and made a face.
I’m not late. She looked down. Do I have toilet paper or something stuck to my shoe? No. She ran a hand over her hair to make sure it was still all in place and greeted them. “Dax. Mr. Landon.”
“Call me Clay.”
Dax sent what seemed to be a warning look at his friend. “I was just reminding Clay about how long you’ve known my fiancée and what a good friend you’ve been to her.”