Surprised, Lance asked, “She’s interested in working for me?”
Kenzi rolled her eyes. “Not that she has said, but you could offer her something and see.”
Lance imagined how little he’d be able to concentrate on anything but her if she worked in his building. He had a policy prohibiting office affairs. They were a distraction, just as she would be. “I can’t hire Willa.”
Kenzi shrugged and linked arms with Lance and urged him to walk back to the dining room with her. “I imagine she’ll take the job with Clay, then.”
Lance ground his teeth together but kept his thoughts to himself. Like hell she will. He rejoined his family just long enough to appease them before making a hasty exit.
He wasn’t about to sit back and let Clay manipulate Willa for amusement. He remembered every comment Clay had made about being with one or both of them simply because they were twins. Lance didn’t know how much of what Clay had said had been real and how much had been bullshit he’d thrown out to see what would get a rise out of him, but Lance wasn’t taking any chances.
As he pulled out of the driveway, he gave into an impulse he’d fought against but lost. Although he never used it, he had Willa’s number in his contacts. He said, “Call Willa.”
Her line rang two, three, four times before going to voicemail.
“Hi, you’ve reached Willa Chambers. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message.”
Beep.
“Willa, it’s Lance. Call me when you get this.” He considered saying more, but hung up instead. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t answered. He was still trying to figure out what to say to her.
Chapter Four
In an oversized T-shirt and shorts, Willa was seated on the couch in her living room with her laptop and a cup of coffee. She’d spent the last hour writing and editing her résumé to hand to Clay when she interviewed with him the next day. Although the job had come to her because he was a friend of a friend, Willa wanted to show him she would take it seriously.
The problem was he hadn’t exactly given many details about the job description. He’d said he needed a traveling assistant. That had to require organizational skills. I’m a natural organizer. Willa listed her past jobs that would document her ability to do just that. So much of what she’d done in the past had been solitary work. She didn’t know how she’d do being with someone as gregarious as Clay, but she told herself she could handle whatever life threw at her.
Haven’t I already proven that?
She read as much as she could about the duties of an assistant then crafted her résumé in a way she hoped would make her sound qualified.
When Dax had first put Clay on the phone with her, Willa had felt awkward, but it was quickly apparent that Clay saw her only as Lexi’s quiet sister. He didn’t seem to have any idea that it had been her dancing in the flash mob. Then he’d offered her a salary that would allow her to make in a couple months what she was used to making in a year. With that job, she could put money aside. No, it wasn’t in her field or something she was passionate about, but Lexi was right about one thing: the bank doesn’t care how much I do or don’t like where I work. It’s time for me to stop thinking about what I want to do and focus on what I have to do. I have to pay my bills, and this will allow me to do that. With that mindset, she’d put aside her concerns about not being qualified and decided she would not only get that job, but also excel at it.
Her phone rang. Lance Barrington.
It went through to voicemail while she was still debating with herself if she should answer him. After she played his message back, she hurriedly closed her laptop and stood. She played the message back again.
If Lance weren’t Kenzi’s brother, Willa would have played the message to her. If Willa had talked to Lexi since their argument, she would have called her and done the same.
Lance didn’t call her. Not anymore. Not since she’d told him to never call her again.
Willa played the message once more. He didn’t sound happy.
Did he find out it was me at the flash mob? Is he upset that I lied to him?
Upset I wasn’t Lexi?
I won’t know if I don’t call him.
Sometimes not knowing is better.
Stop.
Willa called Lance back and held her breath. I’m not eighteen anymore. I can handle the truth now. “Hi Lance. You called?”
“Are you home?”
Willa glanced down at what was technically her pajamas then at the clock. It was seven o’clock on a Thursday night. No wonder Lexi thinks I don’t have a life. “Yes. What do you need?”
“I’m on my way over.”
Willa dropped the phone then scrambled to pick it back up. “Sorry about that. Slippery phone case. Did you say you’re on your way here?”
“I did.”
“Lexi’s at work.”
“That’s fine. It’s you I have to talk to.”
Have to? Shit. Don’t panic. It’s probably nothing. “About anything in particular?”
“I’d rather talk about it when I’m there.”
Willa glanced down at herself again. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest. “I’m actually busy tonight. I’m finishing up something I need done for tomorrow. Can this wait?”
Like until never?
“What are you working on? Anything I could help you with?”
She would have loved to have been able to respond with something impressive. The truth was almost too lame to voice aloud. I’m almost thirty and—“I’m tweaking my résumé.”
“I hire people all the time. I could give you some suggestions.”
I’m sure you could, but I can’t be alone with you. It hurts too much. Willa imagined how the evening would go if she said yes to him coming over. She’d rush around like a maniac throwing on clothing she hoped made her look good. She’d do her makeup like a madwoman. By the time he’d arrive she’d be in a nervous sweat and hating herself for it. For nothing. No. “Sorry, Lance, but tonight’s not good. I don’t want company. I do have a minute, though, if you need to ask me something.”
“I just pulled up to the front of your building.”
Panic set in. Sorry, I’ve already met my quota when it comes to making a fool of myself over you. “You’re not hearing what I’m saying, Lance.”
“And that is?”
Willa closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip before answering. This isn’t supposed to be hard. He’s not supposed to matter anymore. “I don’t want to see anyone tonight. Goodnight. Sorry you drove over here for nothing.”
Willa hung up and glared at her reflection across the room. She was a tangle of resentment. She’d closed the door on that time in her life and nothing good could come from opening it. I shouldn’t have called him back. Hearing his voice . . . hearing the way he said her name . . . Why can’t I leave that door shut? I have to get this job with Clay, anything to get me away from Boston even if only for a short time. Just long enough to clear my head.
Stop.
>
Step one: get this job.
She forced herself to focus on preparing for her interview. She reworded and added to her work history until she was satisfied that it represented the best of what she’d done and what she could offer any employer. She printed it out, placed it in a neat folder, and put it on the counter next to her keys.
With her task completed, all that was left was to think about how rude she’d been to Lance. If I don’t apologize things will get awkward. I didn’t believe I could be happy again, but I am. I can’t let him ruin that.
A memory came to her in a flash: blood running down her legs, too much to wash away in the shower. And the pain. God, the pain.
She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands. Don’t go there.
Unlike Kenzi, the truth won’t free me.
It’ll only make me hate Lexi.
Lance.
And myself.
Enough time has gone by. Forget.
Do yourself a favor and forget.
Lance slammed the door of his apartment behind him and dropped his keys into the small bowl he kept on the table just inside. He’d tried to call Willa back, but she hadn’t answered. He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but he was offended. No one brushed him off the way Willa did. He was rich, successful, and attractive. Women wanted to be with him; men wanted to network with him. Sometimes the reverse, but never did any of them treat him the way Willa did—as if he didn’t matter at all.
He didn’t matter enough for her to be honest with him. Not then, not now.
When given the choice between seeing him and typing up a résumé, she chose the fucking résumé.
Lance yanked off his tie and shrugged off his suit jacket. You’d think after ten years of watching her choose to sit away rather than beside me at events, I’d learn.
He dropped his clothing on the back of his couch and walked over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a Scotch. He downed it in one gulp. If she wants to work for Clay, let her.
She’s nothing more than a woman I once fucked.
The front crotch of his pants tightened instantly and he frowned. And still want.
