Page 22 of Fighting the Pull

I tucked that thought away, and as I got closer, I also noted that Chuck had it set up so Hale and I were sitting on the same couch.

It was a deep-seated sectional that had an open-backed space in the middle that gave it interest. But Chuck had the four cameras set up, two at corners, two angled from the ends so they could get long shots of both of us—me facing Hale, Hale facing me—as we both sat on the same couch.

“Maybe Hale can be on the couch, and I can be in a chair,” I suggested.

Chuck sidled closer, and talking low, he said, “This is your first onsite interview. Always up to you, babe, but I think you should go in warm. A relaxed, informal chat between friends. This is going to make your mark. Where do you want to go from here? How do you want it to come off? What do you want to be your signature?”

It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about this, it was just that, with my team, I wanted them to know I thought their input was important and they should always feel free to give it. As such, I always made time to listen to what they had to say. Not to mention, we hadn’t had the opportunity to scout the location, so we had to make this decision on the fly.

And Chuck was right, having this come off as a friendly chat would be what I preferred.

It was just that I personally didn’t want to sit on the sofa with Hale, no matter how big it was, because, to put a fine point on it, I thought he was a dick.

Yes, in the last couple of days, I’d come to the difficult realization that I’d committed the absolute unprofessional. I’d avoided this interview with Hale because I had a crush on him.

Mm-hmm,meavoiding conducting a career defining interview because I had the hots for a guy.

Also, and fortunately, in the last couple of days, he’d cured me of that crush.

But I could no longer let personal get in the way of professional.

He wasn’t the first dick I’d interviewed, and he wouldn’t be the last.

I nodded to Chuck. “Carry on.”

He smiled at me.

Zoey approached.

I was twenty-seven years old.

She was younger, twenty-two.

But she had it together. She also hadchutzpah. She was born and bred in the Bronx. Nothing fazed her. Which made her perfect for her job.

Until now.

She appeared hesitant and star struck.

Fabulous.

“Head in the game,” I said quietly.

She blinked and focused on me.

Then she asked, “You want me to go out for coffees or something?”

I nodded again. “Yes, thanks. And ask Mr. Wheeler, and everybody, what they want, please.”

“Will do,” she said and moved off.

At this point, Fliss called, “Hale says I can set up in the kitchen. I’m going to do some moisturizer and powder for him. Then I want you for touch ups.”

That was Fliss for you, wandering around, performing miracles with her mascara wand. The current one, within a couple of minutes, talking Hale into allowing her to prepare him to be filmed.

Hale was smirking at me as he followed Felicity and her big, wheelie case to his kitchen, and Zoey made her approach to them.

Pure professionalism and competency, I ignored his smirk and moved to the cameras Chuck had already set on tripods that he and Zoey would operate. I bent and looked through the lens.