Please (Please #1) Read Online Free

professional level.
    It was to be close to Hunter Carlisle.
    I glanced up into those sexy, smoldering eyes, and just stared. I didn’t know what came next, but I was pretty sure I needed a moment to get ready for it.
    “Did you bring your résumé?” Mr. Carlisle asked.
    “Y-yes, of course,” I stammered, picking it off the ground where it had fluttered after my fingers lost their grip. The sheet trembled as I handed it across the desk.
    He stared at me quietly for a moment before his gaze dipped to the page. He dropped the page to his desktop and resumed his scrutiny of me.
    “Tell me,” he started in a deep voice that vibrated down my spine and tickled parts of me that were distinctly feminine. “Why would a Stanford grad in a sought-after field turn up in my office applying for an admin role?”
    I willed saliva into my mouth to cure the sudden dryness. “As you see—” I pointed a shaky finger at his desktop where my résumé lay “—I graduated five months ago. I’ve been diligently searching for work, but at the moment, there aren’t opportunities for those without experience, however great the school I graduated from.”
    The words sounded professional, but my tone was much too wispy. The sheen of sweat on my face screamed uncomfortable. Or, more correctly, turned on. I was out of control without a clue how to fix matters.
    His gaze traveled my face, and then grazed my body. When he was once again looking into my eyes, he said, “The economy is lagging at present. You’re unlucky in your timing.”
    “I’ve come to that realization,” I heard myself say. The words were like an echo from someone else. Wobbly and distorted. I was not in charge of my linguistics. I only hoped he attributed it to nervousness.
    “Olivia?”
    “What was that?” I blurted.
    Humor sparked in his eyes. “I said, would you be open to tasks outside of that strictly administrative? I have a variety of projects that come through this office, or that need overseeing.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “And hours? Do you have a preference?”
    A blush crept up my face as heat saturated my body. “No. I’m always available,” I said in a breathy voice I did not recognize. Get a grip!
    He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his desk. “Tell me about your hobbies. Your usual day.”
    Caught off guard with a non-interview question, and with my mind on complete hiatus in his company, I just blurted out what came to mind. Unfortunately, that turned out to be the minute details of my life. I told him everything, from my morning walk, to getting inventive with what was in the fridge. When he asked about my job search, I stupidly told all, one rejection to the next. I didn’t add flourishes or hold anything back. All my faults I laid bare, and all the things I excelled at I bluntly offered up. I just opened my mouth and purged.
    He sat and watched me, gaining all my life’s secrets with a focused, almost predatory gaze. Only when shadows started crawling across the floor from the neighboring high rises did the question and answer segment slow, and finally stop. Silence descended as he sat and stared at me. My heart thumped under that handsome gaze.
    The swish of expensive fabric was the only sound as he rose. “I think that’ll be all for today. Check in with my assistant on your way out. You’ll hear from my office either way.”
    “Oh.” I painfully uncrossed my right leg from my left before I stood. My skin peeled away, leaving a red mark. Ouch.
    I stood, a little lopsided, and tried to get my bearings. I should’ve switched positions at least once during the interview to prevent my leg from falling asleep.
    After shaking it out, aware that I was the subject of scrutiny, I stepped forward to leave. My numb leg gave out. My knee knocked into the back of the desk with a loud thud. I fell forward, ungracefully sprawling across his desktop.
    In a panic, I tried to right myself, but my leg was mostly useless. It stayed limp as my