Chapter 8 The Offer

Leighton woke up to an email notification at eight in the morning.

She grabbed her phone, squinting at the screen.

Her heart jumped when she saw the sender: Knight Security Solutions.

Noah's company.

Her stomach dropped.

She opened it.

Dear Ms. Hayes,

We're currently seeking a Senior Brand Designer for our marketing department.

Your portfolio was recommended to us, and we'd like to schedule an interview at your earliest convenience.

The position offers a competitive salary, full benefits, and opportunities for creative leadership.

Best regards,

Jennifer Martinez

Director of Human Resources

Leighton read it three times.

Then she threw off her covers and marched downstairs.

She found Noah in his office, door open, on a phone call.

He glanced up when she appeared in the doorway, his expression neutral.

She held up her phone.

Waited.

He finished his call and pulled off the headset.

"Morning."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She walked into his office and set her phone on his desk, the email still open.

"This."

He glanced at it.

"Looks like a job offer."

"From your company."

"We're hiring."

"You can't just. You can't do this."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Do what? Have my HR department reach out to a talented designer who's looking for work?"

"You told them to contact me."

"I forwarded your portfolio to Jennifer. She makes her own hiring decisions."

"That's the same thing."

"It's really not."

Leighton grabbed her phone back.

"I'm not taking it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's charity."

"It's a job."

"A job you're giving me because you feel sorry for me."

His jaw tightened.

"I don't feel sorry for you."

"Then why did you do this?"

"Because you're good at what you do, and my company needs someone good."

He stood up, moving around the desk.

"This isn't charity, Leighton. It's business."

"Bullshit."

His eyebrows rose.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. This is bullshit. You saw me crying yesterday and decided to fix it by handing me a job I didn't earn."

"You did earn it. I've seen your work."

"For five minutes. While I was having a breakdown."

She shook her head.

"I'm not taking a job from you just because you feel guilty about being cold to me when I moved in."

"That's not what this is."

"Then what is it?"

"It's me recognizing talent when I see it."

"You're lying."

"I don't lie."

"Everyone lies."

"Not to you."

He moved closer.

"I'm offering you a legitimate position at my company because you're qualified. Better than qualified. You're exactly what we need."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because people don't just hand out jobs to people they barely know."

"I've known you for fifteen years."

"You didn't even remember me a week ago."

"I told you I was lying about that."

"Maybe you're lying now."

His eyes flashed.

"I'm not."

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Tell me this isn't about yesterday. Tell me you didn't see me fall apart and decide I needed saving."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, "I can't tell you that."

Her chest tightened.

"Because it's true."

"Because it's part of it. Not all of it, but part of it."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, I saw you yesterday. Yes, it bothered me. But I sent your portfolio to Jennifer because after I looked at your work, I spent an hour on the phone with her talking about how we need someone who can rebrand our consumer-facing products. Someone with fresh ideas who isn't going to play it safe. And I kept thinking about your designs. About how they had personality. How they took risks."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not."

"Do you know how many designers I've looked at in the past six months? Forty-three. Your work is better than most of what I've seen."

She wanted to believe him.

God, she wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.

"I can't take a job from you."

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, everyone will think I only got it because I'm living in your house. Because I'm Chloe's friend. Because you felt sorry for me."

"Who cares what people think?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to be the girl who slept her way into a job."

"We haven't slept together."

"Yet."

The word slipped out before she could stop it.

The air between them changed.

Charged.

Dangerous.

"Yet," he repeated quietly.

She swallowed hard.

"That came out wrong."

"Did it?"

"Noah, I just. I can't do this. I appreciate the offer. Really. But I need to find something on my own. Something I earned."

"You would be earning it. You'd have to interview. You'd have to prove yourself to the team. Jennifer doesn't hire people just because I recommend them. She's turned down three of my suggestions in the past year."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because those people weren't living in your house. Weren't. Whatever this is."

"And what is this?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. But I know it has nothing to do with this job offer."

"Everything is connected, Noah. You can't separate it."

"Watch me."

He moved closer.

"The job is real. The opportunity is real. Whether you take it or not doesn't change anything between us."

"You can't promise that."

"I just did."

"What if I take the job and I'm terrible at it?"

"Then you'll get better. Or you'll figure out it's not the right fit and you'll find something else. But you won't know unless you try."

"I hate that you're making sense."

"I usually do."

"Take the interview. That's all I'm asking. Talk to Jennifer. Meet the team. See if it's something you actually want. If it's not, walk away. No hard feelings."

"And if I do walk away? You promise it won't be weird?"

"It's already weird."

She couldn't argue with that.

"I need to think about it."

"Fair enough."

He checked his watch.

"You have until five to respond to the email. After that, Jennifer moves on to the next candidate."

"You're giving me a deadline?"

"I'm telling you how my HR department works. If you're interested, you need to say so today."

Leighton looked down at her phone, at the email still open on the screen.

A real job.

With benefits.

At a successful company.

Everything she'd been desperate for a week ago.

"I need coffee," she said.

"There's a fresh pot in the kitchen."

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

"Leighton?"

She looked back.

"For what it's worth, I think you'd be good at it. Great, even. You just need to believe that about yourself."

Something in her chest cracked open.

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and left.

In the kitchen, she poured coffee with shaking hands.

She pulled up the email again.

She thought about yesterday.

About how Noah had looked at her work like it mattered.

He believed in her work.

Maybe it was time she did too.

She grabbed her phone and typed a response before she could change her mind.

Dear Ms. Martinez,

Thank you for reaching out. I'd be very interested in discussing the position. I'm available for an interview at your convenience.

Best regards,

Leighton Hayes

She hit send before her brain could talk her out of it.

Her phone buzzed immediately.

A response from Jennifer.

Wonderful! Are you available tomorrow at 10 AM? We can meet at our downtown office.

Tomorrow.

Less than twenty-four hours to prepare.

She typed back: Yes, that works.

Perfect. I'll send you the address and details. Looking forward to meeting you!

Leighton set her phone down and pressed her hands to her face.

She'd done it.

She'd said yes.

She heard footsteps behind her.

Knew without looking that it was Noah.

"I sent the response," she said without turning around.

"Good."

"I have an interview tomorrow."

"I know. Jennifer just texted me."

Now she did turn.

"You're still watching this whole thing?"

"I like to be informed about what's happening in my company."

"This feels like you're meddling."

"I prefer the term 'staying involved.'"

He moved into the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

"You're going to do great tomorrow."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"How?"

"Because I've seen you work. I've seen how you think. And I've seen how much you care about getting it right."

He took a drink.

"That's what Jennifer looks for. Passion. Drive. Someone who gives a damn."

"What if she asks how I heard about the position?"

"Tell her the truth. That you're staying here temporarily, and I forwarded your portfolio."

"Won't that look bad?"

"Why would it?"

"Because it looks like nepotism."

"It's networking. There's a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes. Nepotism is hiring someone unqualified because of personal connections. Networking is connecting qualified people with opportunities. You're qualified. I'm just making the introduction."

She wanted to argue.

Wanted to find a flaw in his logic.

But she couldn't.

"I'm scared," she admitted quietly.

"Of what?"

"That this will ruin everything. Everything like you and me and whatever this is becoming."

He set down his water bottle and moved toward her.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

She didn't step back.

He stopped close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice low.

"The job has nothing to do with us. Whether you work for my company or not doesn't change what I feel when I look at you. Doesn't change the fact that I can't stop thinking about you in my shirt. In my kitchen. In my space."

Her breath hitched.

"Noah."

"You want to keep things separate? Fine. At the office, you're an employee. Here, you're..."

He trailed off, his eyes searching hers.

"You're whatever we decide you are."

"And what do we decide?"

"I don't know yet. But I know I'm tired of pretending there's nothing here."

"So am I."

His hand came up, catching her chin.

His thumb brushed across her bottom lip.

"Take the damn job, Leighton."

It wasn't a request.

She nodded, unable to form words.

He held her gaze for another long moment, then stepped back.

"I have meetings all afternoon," he said, his voice back to normal. Professional.

"But if you need anything before tomorrow, let me know."

"Okay."

He grabbed his water bottle and walked out, leaving her standing in the kitchen with her heart pounding and her whole body trembling.

She touched her lip where his thumb had been.

She could still feel the pressure.

The promise.

Tomorrow she had an interview.

Tomorrow she'd have to be professional and competent and prove she deserved this opportunity.

But tonight, all she could think about was the way Noah had looked at her.

Like she was something he wanted but was trying not to take.

And god help her, she wanted him to stop trying.