he’d even dangled the possibility of working for him. But first he’d challenged her to create and manage an image. And he gave her the hardest subject to work on: herself.
Blond, stylish and dressed for success, Max Blair oozed money and confidence. He worked for celebrities and A-listers in Hollywood and quite a few people had followed him around the conference like groupies. They’d wanted to know how he got the high-profile clients and what it was like to party with the stars.
Her peers found him innovative and called him the future of their industry. They didn’t seem to notice that Max was brash, aggressive and always turned the conversation to sex.
Claire had no interest in celebrity parties. What mattered to her was that if she tackled his challenge and succeeded, she would get a job working for one of the biggest social media companies in the industry. The opportunity to be Max Blair’s protégé would be such a coup. It would prove to her family—and to herself—that she had finally made it.
What are you wearing?
But first she had to respond to his texts the right way.
Claire knew she should answer it honestly. Show him that she actually couldn’t transform herself into a wild party girl, as she’d boasted at the conference that she could. But she wasn’t ready to end this preinterview. She was going to show Max that she could do this. She wanted to be the best at something and she wanted everyone to know it.
What was she wearing? She looked down at her blazer and shook her head.
Nothing but a satisfied smile, she replied.
She wasn’t sure where that answer came from. Probably from a TV show she’d just watched. She liked the answer, though. It was breezy, flirty and so not like her. She wished she could have come up with something this quickly when she’d been face-to-face with Max, but she always thought of a comeback hours later.
I’m intrigued, he responded immediately. What are your plans for tonight?
Her nights were usually filled with work and the occasional outing with friends, but she wasn’t going to tell Max the truth. This was the guy who’d at first thought she was a woman with no future. He’d taken one look at her at the bar during the conference and decided she didn’t have an original or scandalous idea in her head. And proceeded to explain why her small business couldn’t compete with his big company.
The worst part was that he’d been correct. But she didn’t let him know that. Her ideas were based on what had proven effective for others and her success was built on consistency and hard work. She was a grinder, not an innovator.
Claire had wanted to walk away and ignore him. But she was proud of her business, and she hadn’t liked hearing him dismiss it so easily. So she’d looked him in the eye and argued with him about his ideas, horrifying his disciples and fangirls.
But he’d seemed intrigued and asked her for more details about her strategies. Claire had been nervous while she told him what she had accomplished since she started her business. She didn’t have famous clients or an office filled with employees, but something she had said must have impressed him. Out of all the people at the conference, Max had said he wanted to interview her for a job. It had felt amazing and scary to be in the spotlight. She wanted to make the most of it.
She thought for a moment, wondering how to respond to his question. What could she say she was doing tonight? It had to be wild and fun.
Defending my title in the wet T-shirt contest, she answered. You?
That should keep him busy for a while. Claire bit her lip to contain her smile just as her phone was snatched from her hand. She squawked and whirled around to find Jason behind her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a naughty smile,” Jason said as he held her phone out of her reach. It looked small in his hand.
“That’s not true. You have a mirror, don’t you?” She blinked and pressed her lips. Where had that come from? Jason seemed just as surprised by her sassy response. Claire decided it was best to ignore it, and she held out her hand. “Give me my phone.”
He shook his head. “You spend too much time on it.”
“I do not.” Okay, maybe she did. But her phone was her lifeline. It kept her focused and on schedule. Her gut twisted when she heard the chime of an incoming text. “Would you please hand it over?”
Jason glanced at the small screen and went very still. “Wet T-shirt contest?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, his gaze still on the phone.
Claire felt the hot blush spread from her neck to her face. She braced herself for Jason to double over with laughter. To her surprise, his smile faded as he gave her a piercing look. “And who is this Max?”
“Give it to me.” She leaped from her chair and made a grab for the phone but he kept it out of reach. It was just like old times.
“Not until you tell me who Max is.”
Claire glanced around the wine bar, hoping they weren’t causing a scene. To her relief, no one was paying them any attention. “He’s not someone from around here,” she whispered fiercely.
She watched in horror as Jason started typing on the keypad.
Don’t freak out. He’s messing with you, just like he used to. He’s just pretending. He won’t dare send a text.
“What did he say?”
“Something about photographic evidence,” he muttered as he texted a reply. “He sounds charming.”
“What are you doing?” She grabbed his arm and was momentarily distracted by the sensation of the warm and solid muscle beneath her fingertips. She wondered how it would feel to have his arms around her. “Do not tell him anything,” she rasped.
“Wow, you are really panicky with this guy.” Jason squinted at the screen as he continued to type. “You must like him a lot.”
Like him? No. But Max Blair could be her fairy godmother. His approval would make her the belle of the ball instead of the wallflower. “It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
She gasped when he pressed the send button. “What did you say to him?”
He shrugged. “Just your run-of-the-mill marriage proposal.”
Her fingers dug into his arms. “What?”
“I’m kidding.” Jason’s smile widened. “So why haven’t I heard anything about this guy?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Claire needed to see the text Jason had sent. She jumped for the phone and collided with him. Her hands flattened against his chest as she inhaled his scent. It was woodsy and masculine.
“Are you really entering a wet T-shirt contest?” he asked quietly.
She jerked her head up in shock. Jason’s face was right above hers. His blue eyes were mesmerizing and she hurriedly stepped away. “That’s what he asked?”
“No, I’m asking you.”
She nervously licked her bottom lip. “Why? Do you think I could win?”
Claire should have curbed her tongue. Deep down she knew that question would require Jason to look at her—really look at her. Her skin tingled with awareness as his eyes darkened. Her breasts felt heavy and tight under her printed pink top as his gaze lingered on her chest. She didn’t breathe until his eyes met hers again.
“I don’t think you’re the kind of woman who could enter a wet T-shirt contest.”
Claire reared her head back. “Could?” she repeated. What did that mean? Did he believe she lacked the curves or the audacity for that kind of competition?
“I meant would.” Her phone chimed again. Claire held back a panicked whimper.