Unforgettable: Book Three (A Hollywood Love Story #3)(57)

Over delicious cheese burritos, Libby fired away, never one to hold back.

“So, is Blake Burns as big an * as everyone says he is?”

I was taken back by her question, expecting something more along the lines of “How’s your day going?”

I hesitated before answering. The answer was a loud “yes,” but Mr. Burns had had an unexpected effect on me. While I had googled him and knew he was good-looking with that thick mass of dark hair, I just didn’t expect him to be that good-looking. Okay, breathtaking. Tall, built, and with the face of a movie star. He was not my type—the brainy preppy type—but the way his sapphire eyes held me in a fierce gaze did something to me. I was a heated up, nervous wreck throughout the interview, and thanked my lucky stars I’d taken some drama courses so I could get through it.

“So . . .” Libby’s inquisitive voice brought me back into the moment. I loved Libby to death, but I needed to be careful with my answer. Tell Libby, tell the world. My curly redhead friend was a gossip, though loveable one, and proud of it.

“Actually, he was very nice and very professional.” Arrogant *. “He’s given me a very challenging first assignment.”

“Like what?” asked Libby, her hazel eyes wide. She forked a chunk of her burrito and put it to her mouth.

“I have to analyze ratings and SIN-TV’s morning lineup.”

Libby swallowed and scrunched her face. “The ratings suck in that daypart. I keep telling Blake we should do some focus groups to find out what’s going on. But he’s very anti-research. He believes one should program by instinct, and his instincts are never wrong.”

I digested Libby’s information. My instinct told me that Mr. Burns’s instincts were wrong. I quirked a sly smile at my friend. “Well, we’re going to change that.”

“How?”

“Right after lunch, I’m going to start figuring that out,” I replied before taking the last bite of my burrito.





Chapter 4

Jennifer


I had to admit it was a good first day at work. Conquest Broadcasting was a great company. I just wasn’t sure about working for its porn channel, SIN-TV. Is this where I really belonged? Developing this cock-driven programming? Working with my arrogant, know-it-all boss who kept checking in on me all day? Could I make a difference? After spending all afternoon in my office poring over the ratings to the point of getting bleary-eyed, I’d begun to think maybe I could.

At six o’clock, I gathered up the ratings files I needed to finish reviewing and stuffed them into my briefcase along with my laptop. The Coach leather briefcase had been a graduation gift from my parents, and I treasured it. My next stop was dinner. I was meeting Bradley at a restaurant close to his office. Much of me wanted to cancel our dinner date as I was eager to get home and continue studying the ratings package and even watch some more of SIN-TV to get a better handle on the programming. But I couldn’t disappoint Bradley. He had made a reservation and said he had a surprise for me.

With my briefcase in hand and my shoulder bag slung over my shoulder, I stepped out of my office. During orientation, I was told to be sure to lock my door every night; the company had recently experienced a barrage of break-ins, with the thieves stealing anything from computers and televisions to office furnishings and personal possessions.

As I curled my fingers around the handle and began to close the door, a familiar voice called out to me.

“Good night, Ms. McCoy. Looks like you have your work cut out for you.”

It was my boss. Blake Burns. Flustered, I turned my head at the sound of his sultry voice, and my mouth dropped open. A loud gasp of pain escaped my throat. Stars swarmed my head, and a sudden rush of nausea rose to my chest. It took me a sickening moment to realize what I’d just done. I’d accidentally slammed the heavy door on my middle finger. The throbbing was so intense I couldn’t think straight or get my mouth to close.

“Are you okay?” The words whirled around in my head. I couldn’t get my brain to communicate with my mouth to respond. As the nausea intensified, a black fog descended on me, and my legs turned to jelly. “Geez” was the last word I heard as I felt myself going down. Before I hit bottom, two strapping arms wrapped around me and then everything faded to black.


When I fluttered my eyes open, there was Blake, looming above me, his dreamy blue eyes moving slowly over my face. The throbbing in my finger brought me back to reality. Fuck. I must have fainted, and now I was stretched out on the leather couch in my new boss’s office. He had propped a pillow under my head. How embarrassing was this? What a dumb thing to do on my first day of work.

“Are you okay?” he asked before I could utter a word.

I nodded.

“Are you sure? You blacked out.”

I nodded again. “The door to my office slammed on my finger.”

“Let me see it.”

I lifted my hand. My finger was swollen and quivering, the cuticle torn. He gently took my hand in his. I felt chilled and still sick to my stomach from the excruciating pain. His touch warmed and comforted me.

He examined my finger. “Jesus. You really did a number, tiger.”

He called me tiger? I twitched a little smile as my stomach twisted. A new throbbing sensation—between my legs—gripped me.

“Do you want me to kiss the boo-boo?”