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in the margin, about the last candidate, Clay
assumed. Looking at the last interviewee’s resumé, he could tell
that the guy might be a good assistant after all, but he didn’t
feel a connection with the guy. Clay knew it could mean that he was
bypassing smart, capable people, but he had to follow his gut. That
was how he’d wound up choosing Mary—pure instinct.
    He shuffled through the pile, though, and
scanned the resumés. Truthfully, he could barely tell one from the
other. It seemed that most of the candidates claimed to have strong
communication skills and were excellent organizers. That was all
Clay really needed—someone to keep his ass organized and on track.
He was sure that any one of the people they were going to interview
today would be able to do the job. He needed to figure out from the
interviews who he’d click with...but Mary felt like he wasn’t
taking the interviews seriously. He knew if he at least glanced
through the papers, she would feel like he wasn’t just goofing
off.
    Still, looking through them didn’t help him
at all. Talking with the people—whether he asked intelligent
questions or not—would tell him if the person was right for him or
not. They’d interviewed two people already, and neither of them
seemed right for the job. Well, not the job—they weren’t right for
Clay. He’d know the same thing about the rest when he met them.
    Mary poured them more coffee (good thing,
since it was before noon and Clay couldn’t remember the last time
he’d been up that early) and then the doorbell rang. “Be right
back,” she said, and left the kitchen.
    Clay wasn’t sure why, but Mary acted very
much like a butler when she was on premises. She answered the door,
and he was sure she would have answered the phone if he’d had a
landline. She’d signed for packages before, paid for deliveries,
and whatever else Clay had ever asked. If he could find someone
half as perfect as Mary had turned out, he’d be quite pleased.
    He heard Mary talking with the latest
arrival. She was friendly yet professional sounding, asking what
traffic had been like and things like that. Clay was glancing at
the resumé of the person Mary had said would be next—a woman named
Emily Brinkman. According to the information on the paper in front
of him, she had just graduated from University of Colorado-Boulder
with a Master of Business Administration. That probably meant she
was young and didn’t have much experience. It also meant she was
more than likely book smart with no common sense. Well, that was
okay. They still had four other people to meet after her, and it
would give Clay a chance to try being more serious about his
questions.
    He heard the two women walk into the kitchen,
and he looked up from the paper. Holy shit. This woman, the
one walking into the kitchen, didn’t look like what he’d pictured
in his mind. He’d imagined a mousy, business-suit-wearing,
tight-assed immature girl. Instead, the woman next to Mary looked
put together, in charge, sharp, and gorgeous. She was a sight for
sore eyes. Clay needed to take a deep breath and get himself under
control before both women noticed he was staring. Instead, he stood
and held out his hand to shake hers and he suddenly felt
underdressed. She was wearing a navy blue skirt that ended just
above the knee and those long, long legs. Wow. They looked even
better in the black heels she was wearing. She also wore a navy
blue jacket over a black blouse. Her long dark hair was pulled away
from her face but still flowed down her back. Her brown eyes didn’t
seem to miss a thing. And he didn’t see a tattoo or piercing in
sight. Those were normally huge turn ons for Clay, but she was
quite hot without them.
    Why was he feeling underdressed? She wanted
to work for him. She came to the interview expecting a rock
musician, so he shouldn’t feel weird wearing blue jeans with a
Mastodon t-shirt. He didn’t remember what he said when he took her
hand in his