She gave a sigh of relief when he saw her and waited until she’d gotten on and taken a seat in the nearly empty coach.

Tara looked down at herself. This wasn’t exactly how she dressed for an interview either, but she hadn’t had much of a choice. She was grateful that her hair dried by itself so that she hadn’t had to waste any time on it. She wore casual white slacks and a colorful long tunic that reached to mid-thigh. It would have to do. After all, the company built boats, and the way she was dressed, she looked like she belonged on a yacht.

For the entire three hour ride, she tried to calm herself down and practiced her answers to the usual interview questions in silence. She’d have to try to make up for her lack of experience with confidence in her own abilities. She could do this.

Tara stared out the tinted window. Soon, she’d be financially independent from her parents and could truly make her own decisions. What this would mean for her relationship with Jay, she didn’t know. Maybe she could spend the weekends with him on the boat; perhaps, once the summer was over, Jay could find a job in the city. Only time would tell if the feelings she was developing for him were real and lasting.

20

Jay picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk and dialed his assistant’s extension.

“Mr. Bohannon?” Karina answered promptly.

“Has the last applicant still not shown up?” he asked impatiently, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his fifty-seventh floor office.

“I’m afraid not, sir, Miss York is still not here,” she replied.

Jay grunted. He had the helicopter on stand-by and was eager to return to the Hamptons. He’d seen several passable applicants today and had already drawn up his shortlist.

“Well, if this Miss York can’t even keep an appointment, I guess she’s not the right person. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, Karina.” He disconnected the call and looked back at the file still open on his computer monitor.

The portfolio of the woman Paul had recommended was indeed impressive. Her taste was impeccable, but so was that of all the other applicants he’d seen today. However, there was a simplicity to her designs that spoke to him on a deeper level. Elegant, yet understated. Most designers put too much into their designs to show that they had the skills for the job. Miss York’s work was different and fresh. He liked it. It was a shame she didn’t have the professionalism to show up on time. It disqualified her immediately.

He was about to close the file when he heard voices outside where his assistant greeted his visitors. His phone rang a moment later. He recognized Karina’s number and answered it.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bohannon, but Miss York is here. Do you still want to see her?”

He hesitated and glanced back at the monitor, admiring the designs before him once more. He sighed. “Fine, send her in.” Sometimes one had to make an exception even to the strictest of rules.

A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of it swinging open.

“Miss York, you’re late,” he said, without looking up from his computer.

“Jay?”

Jay spun his head in her direction and jumped up at the same time. “Tara,” he choked out.

There was no doubt. Tara stood in his office, only a few yards away from him, seemingly paralyzed. Her eyes bored into him, and her mouth had dropped open. She shook her head as if trying to shake off a bad dream, and he was inclined to do the same.

“You are Mr. Bohannon? The owner of Hannon Boats?” Shock made her voice tremble.

His heart pounded. “I can explain.” Could he?

“How could you? How could you do this to me? After all the things I told you. You lied to me!”

He took a few steps toward her, but her hand came up as if she wanted to physically shove him away. He stopped, not wanting to scare her off. “You didn’t want a rich guy.”

“So you thought it was okay to lie to me to get what you wanted?”

“No, that’s not what it was like,” Jay started again, not really knowing how he could make her understand.

“You were playing me. Every single second you were playing a game with me.”

“It wasn’t a game.” It had been real. More real than any other relationship he’d ever had.

“You pretended to be some ordinary guy just to get into my pants.” She spat the words, disgust evident in them. As if she regretted every single second they’d been together.

“That’s not true. You mistook me for a waiter. I wanted to explain, but then I—”