P.S. You’re Intolerable: Chapter 1

THIS INTERVIEW WAS PRACTICE.

It didn’t count.

It wasn’t like I would get the job anyway.

There had to be someone with a far more impressive résumé.

I needed the job. That wasn’t up for debate, but I wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t get it. It wasn’t as if being an executive assistant was my dream. Honestly, I didn’t know what my dream was, and figuring that out was on hold for now. What I did know was money was required to fund just about every possibility.

I stepped up to the bathroom mirror, barely recognizing myself. A few months ago, I’d been building houses in Costa Rica. I’d hardly spent time running a brush through my hair, let alone ironing my clothing. Truth be told, I hadn’t even owned clothes that required ironing.

Now, here I was, flat-ironed, starched, and prim. If human resources was hiring based on looks alone, I was a shoo-in. I sold responsible and organized really well.

“Okay. You’ve got this, Kit,” I whispered to my panic-eyed reflection. “This doesn’t count. Who cares if they laugh you out of the room?”

Since that was the most likely outcome, it was better to expect it.

Grabbing my iced coffee from the counter, I walked out of the bathroom, humming a random Miley Cyrus song that was stuck in my head, my chin raised high.

Too high.

Much, much too high.

If I’d had my head at its normal angle, I would have seen what was right in front of me. I wouldn’t have collided with the tall man in the charcoal suit. My coffee wouldn’t have defied gravity and the laws of physics by busting through the lid and shooting up like a geyser before raining down on my formerly pristine white blouse.

“Oh no!” I yelped. “Oh no, no, no. This absolutely can’t be happening. Not today of all days. I refuse to believe it.”

This was what I got for drinking coffee. I was supposed to be cutting back on caffeine but had told myself one cup wouldn’t hurt. I’d even Googled to make sure before letting myself indulge.

After today, coffee and I were broken up.

The remains of my ex-favorite drink dripped down the inside of my blouse, welling at the waistband of my trousers. The cup and ice splattered across my cute little chunky loafers—the barest nod to my punkier days.

How had half a medium iced coffee managed to drench me so completely? There was even a sodden chunk of hair stuck to my cheek.

I closed my eyes. This was a very bad dream, complete with “Party in the USA” as background noise. When I woke, this would all be over.

“That won’t work.” Abrupt and deep, the clipped statement drew me out of my fantasy.

My eyes flew open, taking in the man in front of me, who was holding me by my elbows. His head was dipped, studying the disaster at our feet. It was then I noticed the drops of creamy iced coffee on his leather shoes.

His very expensive-looking leather shoes.

“What won’t work?” I asked instead of apologizing. It really should have been the first thing from my mouth, but I was flustered, not thinking straight at all.

His hold on me fell away, and he slowly lifted his head. I barely held back a gasp.

Not because he was one of the most attractive men I had ever seen—he was—but because I recognized him from his company’s website.

His. Company’s. Website.

Elliot Levy was the founder and CEO of Levy Development, where, up until this moment, I had been hoping to land a job. Now that I’d butchered his shoes and made a coffee-scented massacre of his lobby, he’d more likely have me banned from the building.

His chin lifted slightly as his nostrils flared. “Closing your eyes to disappear. Everyone can still see you and the mess you made.”

My cheeks flamed, and with my deathly pale skin, I glowed. There was no hiding it.

“Actually, I’d been hoping this was all a bad dream. No such luck, but it was worth a try.” I sucked in a breath. “I apologize for running into you. I’d offer to replace your shoes, but I have the distinct impression I wouldn’t be able to afford them.”

“No. I don’t think you would.”

He could have hesitated even the slightest amount, but he hadn’t. I guessed the origin of my discount-rack blouse was obvious. We did not exist in the same socio-economic strata.

“I can grab some towels from the restroom for you,” I offered.

“No.” He raised a hand, waving at someone behind him, though it was impossible to tell who since his eyes were on me. “I have a change of shoes in my office.”

“Of course. You’re probably prepared for every contingency. That’s really admirable.” I tugged on the wet fabric clinging to my chest, suddenly remembering with abject horror I was wearing a very red, very lacy bra. It hadn’t been visible when I’d checked earlier, even in direct sunlight. Now, I was afraid to look down. “I should duck into the restroom to clean up. No one deserves to have to look at me like this.”

His dark brow dropped over his narrowed hazel eyes. “You don’t work in this building.”

My head jerked, startled at his low utterance. “No, I don’t. I’m here to interview for an assistant position, but it’s not looking like that will be happening.”

“You’re going to let a spill stop you from interviewing?”

“I’m not exactly presenting my best foot.” I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to hide my bra. “I don’t think anyone would give me a job looking like I had a battle with a coffee monster and lost.”

His mouth, inordinately plush for a man with such razor-sharp features, silently formed the words, “Coffee monster.”

“What’s your name?”

I almost said Kit, but my nickname wasn’t very professional. “Catherine Warner.”

“Don’t you want the job, Catherine?” My name rolled off his tongue like honey. It had been so long since anyone had called me anything other than Kit. It was strange hearing my given name from this man.

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He nodded precisely. “Then you should find a way to make it happen. If you give up this easily, you wouldn’t be a good fit for this company.” He gave me a long look as if assessing me. I couldn’t tell if he found me wanting or not. Maybe he hadn’t decided. “If you find a way to make yourself presentable in the next ten minutes, you’ll still have the interview. I’ll let security know to allow you up to the executive floor.”

With Army-like precision, he turned with a click of his heels and strode off.

It took until he disappeared around the corner for me to really wrap my head around what had just happened.

I hadn’t known who I’d be interviewing to work for. Since there was no way I would have convinced myself to come here if I had, that was a good thing. Working directly for the CEO of Levy Development was so far above my paygrade.

But Elliot Levy was personally giving me a chance. The head of this company had challenged me to problem solve. I was here now. How could I not at least try?

I stood there for a solid minute, too stunned to take action.

Then I had nine minutes. Just nine minutes to possibly change the course of my life.

I walked into my house and slammed the door shut behind me hard enough for the bare walls to rattle and the fine layer of dust coating just about everything to take flight. My hand pressed against my racing heart, and I took a deep breath.

It was over. I’d survived.

Liam sauntered out of what was supposed to be a kitchen but was more of a storage room slash disaster zone. His grin faltered at the sight of me sliding down the door, and he hurried over, catching me before I could fall on my butt.

“Come here, Kit. You look all tuckered out.”

I let him lead me to the most uncomfortable couch known to man and gingerly lowered myself onto it. I’d been poked by a spring one too many times to be anything but careful when sitting on the death trap.

It was temporary.

All of this was.

I kept reminding myself that.

Liam took my hands, rubbing them between his. “How did it go?”

“Like cherry bombs in a middle school toilet. Sounds fun until someone loses an eye.” Liam gave me a look that said he didn’t get it, so I gave him more details. “It began with me spilling coffee all over the CEO’s shoes.”

He winced, hissing air between his clenched teeth. “Babe, we talked about coffee. You said you were going to cut it out.”

Liam’s Australian accent normally amused me, but his admonishment was grating. He’d wanted me to cut out coffee. My doctor had assured me a cup a day was safe and Google had confirmed it.

“I know, and believe me, I will now. I just needed—” I shook my head. There was no need to justify myself. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and the coffee was beside the point. “Well, he gave me ten minutes to get it together and make myself presentable. I made it to his office in nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds.”

“His office?” Liam’s blond brows popped.

“Yes. The position is Elliot Levy’s executive assistant.”

His mouth stretched into a wide grin. “Shit, babe. That’s golden. How did the interview go?”

I swallowed hard. “After the scene in the lobby, it went shockingly well.”

Elliot Levy had been nearly impossible to read. Only the slight raise of his brow and a barely perceptible twitch of his mouth had told me he’d been at least a little impressed by the outfit I’d put together with the help of the security guards and the lost and found box.

Liam clapped his hands together. “All right. The compensation package has to be huge for that position.”

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Of course that was his first thought. Money was all Liam talked about these days. He had valid reasons for being distracted by it, sure—the house renovations being the biggest drain at the moment—but I was tired of the topic.

I was just plain tired.

At nine weeks pregnant, it was to be expected, but sometimes, exhaustion hit me like a sledgehammer out of the blue, and with it came extreme grumpiness.

I had to be careful not to take it out on Liam. It wasn’t his fault the one time we slept together resulted in the little life growing inside me.

Okay, it was half his fault.

To say this baby had been unexpected would have been the understatement of the century. I was only twenty-five, far from settled, and Liam and I were friends and travel buddies—nothing more. Not exactly the stable environment a child deserved.

But he was all in on the co-parenting thing. And his excitement to be a dad had convinced me I wanted this baby too.

“I don’t know about the salary. First, they have to want to hire me.” I scrunched my nose as Liam pulled my feet into his lap. He was under the impression foot massages solved everything for pregnant ladies, and I didn’t quite have the heart to tell him I wasn’t that type of pregnant lady yet.

“How did he end the interview?” Liam asked as he dug his dagger-like thumbs into the arch of my foot.

“He said HR will check my references, and of course—”

Liam chuckled. “Oh, Christ. Well, good luck getting someone to answer.”

I went still, an uneasy prickle crawling up my spine. “What did you do?”

He shrugged. “Just spruced up your CV a little. Gave you more experience with an Australian firm that doesn’t quite exist.”

I stared at him, fire rising from my chest to the top of my head. Oblivious, he laughed to himself and continued with his terrible foot massage.

He’d messed with my résumé? This was beyond the pale. There was not an iota of a chance Elliot Levy would look twice at me once he found out I’d lied about my past job experience—my fault or not. “Liam, are you kidding—?”

“Calm down, babe. They’re not going to call Australia. Plus, the email address I gave is registered to me. I’ll tell them what a stellar employee you were. Don’t get worked up about it.”

I tossed the nearest object at his head. Lucky for him, it was a pillow. “I should bludgeon you to death for this.”

“No, you should thank me. Soon, you’re going to be bringing home the big bucks. We’ll flip this house and find a cute little place to raise the kid. You’ll see, babe. Six months from now, we’ll be fat and happy. No need to worry.”

Liam sounded so sure of himself. I wanted to believe him, but lying was no way to start anything, and I hated that he’d fabricated a reference on my résumé.

But Elliot Levy was a brilliant businessman. He had to know I’d be an utter disaster as his assistant. I soothed myself with the surety there was no way I’d be hired for this job.