Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(56)
How about a blow job? Or a hand job? I bit down on my tongue.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She scowled at me. Damn. She was sexy when she did that.
“What kind of question is that? What does that have to do with this job?”
“I’m just curious. Is that a crime?”
“Well, it borders on sexual harassment, and the answer is yes. I have a boyfriend. In fact, a fiancé. He’s a dentist.”
Her tone was defensive. Like she was off limits. I glanced at her left hand. There was surprisingly no ring on her fourth finger. I let it go and instead handed her a thick file.
“What’s this?” She opened the file and gazed down at the stack of papers.
“Your first assignment. This file contains our latest ratings reports. I’d like you to review them and then tomorrow present a full analysis of why our daytime ratings are sagging.” I checked my agenda in Outlook. “Why don’t we say at ten a.m.?”
She closed the file and then retrieved her shoulder bag and briefcase. “I’ll get right on it,” she said, rising to her feet.
My eyes glanced down at my desk. “Don’t forget your glasses.”
She twitched an embarrassed little smile. I handed them to her and brushed my fingers against hers.
“Thanks,” she said, nervously setting them back on her face. “And thanks for hiring me. You won’t be disappointed.”
With that, she marched toward the door and disappeared. My cock flexed. I hoped she was right. The word “disappointment” didn’t exist for Blake Burns.
Chapter 3
Jennifer
I spent the rest of the morning going through orientation. I met with Human Resources to fill out some paperwork and then moved on to some down-the-hall conference room where another straight-laced HR person explained company benefits and policies to a group of new hires like myself. One thing she made loud and clear was that the Conquest Broadcasting Company (CBC) did not look favorably upon fraternization though it wasn’t banned; what was important was that you reported any such liaison to HR so they could evaluate if it was affecting your job performance. I had nothing to worry about. I was engaged to my college sweetheart, Bradley Wick, DDS. The love of my life. The lecture was long and boring, and before long, my mind was wandering. My heart hammered. I was once again reliving last night’s kiss with a total stranger. Those beautiful lips crashing on mine, sending me orbiting into space. My body heated with hot tingles everywhere. I couldn’t let it go. Or stop thinking about that man. I gave myself a hard mental kick as the HR rep told us we’d now be going on a tour of Conquest Broadcasting.
Occupying the lot of a defunct movie studio in Culver City, the complex was vast, almost as big as a college campus. In addition to the towering building where I would be headquartered, there was another rambling building that housed a cafeteria, gym, and state-of-the-art theater for screenings. Scattered across the campus were numerous soundstages where they shot television series, including some for SIN-TV. I instantly recognized the set for one of the network’s porn game shows—Wheel of Pain. I’d forced myself to watch it once. Big-boobed women and their endowed partners were strapped together on a wheel and had to f*ck while the wheel spun around. As the wheel turned, the contestants were subjected to all forms of torture like ice cubes, insects, and nauseating speeds. Whoever lasted the longest won the grand prize—money and a trip to Vegas. What sicko came up with this concept? Watching it once in my lifetime was one time too many. I was glad the job of overseeing current programming belonged to someone else. Thank God, I didn’t have to deal with this show or the rest of the pornographic crap that filled the lineup.
After orientation, I settled into my new office. Adjacent to my new boss’s corner suite on the main floor, it was the size of a closet consisting of the following: a utilitarian blond wood desk with a computer and phone, a matching bookshelf and credenza that housed a small outdated TV, and a pair of basic armchairs. It was sterile and claustrophobic, but at least, there was a window overlooking the parking lot. I sat down behind my desk and assembled the few possessions I’d brought along. On it, I set a framed photo of my parents and another of my fiancé Bradley and me taken at one of his dentist conventions. Opening the top drawer, I lined up the three T’s—toothpaste, toothbrush, and Tampax—along with a box of SpongeBob Band-Aids. Accident-prone me went through Band-Aids as fast as some people went through tissues. I stood up and strode over to the bookshelf next to the door. I placed the two other possessions I’d brought along on the top shelf—my cherished Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary and vintage Roget’s International Thesaurus—both gifts from my dad, a retired English professor. Heading back to my desk, I promised myself I would try to personalize my new office. Maybe buy a few framed posters and hang them up on the sterile white walls. Yeah, some art would liven the place up and give it a little personality.
At noon, I met up with my best friend Libby in the commissary. She and I were roommates and had been since our college days at USC. One year ahead of me, she had landed a position at Conquest Broadcasting—as a Research Analyst in the Consumer Insights division—and had been the one who encouraged me to apply for a job here. She’d raved about the creative working environment, the benefits, and the cutting-edge personnel. And the great low-cost food at the cafeteria.