His eyes didn't even track to my legs, or the fact that my top was practically screaming "look at my tits." He scowled and looked at his bottle then said, "So, you're the babysitter?"
"No, sir. I'm your new communications intern. I'll be?—"
"Says you went to," he grunted, leaning toward his computer screen. His eyes narrowed and then he rubbed them, but for all the squinting in the world, it appeared he couldn't read the screen.
I almost wondered if he had glasses somewhere he was missing, which would be a shame.
If Clayton had the bluest eyes in the family, Asher had the most perfect face for them.
He was handsome, and not in the "ooh, that guy's cute" sort of way. Asher Locke would put the GQ Man of the Year to shame.
His face screamed,I make adorable babies, and my groin warmed at that thought.
Screwing him would not be a problem at all.
He'd have me eating out of his hand.
"The Ohio State University, sir. I studied business communications. That's why I'm?—"
"I get it." His dismissive wave of a hand annoyed me. Though he wasn't as rude as Clayton was. "But this…" He pointed at the screen, and this time, I was certain of the swaying.
He couldn't even sit straight.
How long had he been drinking today?
And how did he work with so much alcohol in his system?
I waited. I tried to be patient, but it was killing me. This was only a formality, anyway.
Clayton assured me the job, so whatever interview Asher thought he was giving me was a moot point.
It felt torturous to sit here waiting for his questioning when there was real work to be done, and I got a spark of inspiration.
I rose, walking around his desk while his delayed reactions had his eyes still locked on his computer screen, and right away, as I stooped to bend over his shoulder, I saw my resume.
My chest brushed his shoulder as I pointed at the screen, reaching right past him.
"See? OSU… Labeled right there." Here I was pressing my chest to his shoulder, and Mr. Locke was more interested in my portfolio than the press of my body on his. Either he was way too drunk or this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
"Yes, I see," he slurred and kept reading. "Bachelor’s in communications, with an emphasis in…"
His words trailed off as I let my eyes wander lower.
His desk was a mess for sure, but right in front of him was a press release that looked set to go out today, except there were errors.
In the first line alone I spotted two spelling errors, and if this got out to the press, it wouldn’t look good for the company's reputation.
I could see exactly why Clayton thought Asher was bad news.
"Mr. Locke, did you want some help proofing this press release?" I picked it up, noticing more errors the more I looked it over. "I mean, that's why I'm here, right? To help out?"
"Give me that," he said ,snatching it from my hand hastily. I felt startled as I straightened, but I wasn't going to take crap from him, drunk or not.
"There are typos there that need to be fixed or you'll look bad. Let me help out."
Asher narrowed his eyes at the paper and then up at me, and every single movement was lethargic and exaggerated.
He scowled, then he dropped the paper on his desk and ran a hand over his face.
