Employee Relations

Swallowing hard, Scarlet glanced around the waiting area of Chandler Specialty Software, Inc. Everything glowed white from the hard couch she sat upon to the high reception desk to the walls. Even the petite blonde seated behind the counter wore a starched white blouse.
She wondered why Mr. Chandler wanted to interview her here, rather than at his home. After all, whomever he hired would be living there and they'd definitely want to see the place, not to mention meet the kids.
Thankfully, no other applicants were there—yet. How many did she have to compete with? She was positive the listing had only been posted last night since she’d been searching the newspaper’s online help wanted section for the past week. Fingering the gold acorn that hung around her neck, she prayed for good luck.
She tugged at the hem of her skirt, unaccustomed to wearing anything but jeans or shorts. Good thing she was able to fit into Lindsay non-pregnant size. Her back ached from too many nights on Lindsay and Joe’s lumpy couch. With the baby arriving soon, Scarlet would have to move out. Just this morning she’d walked out of the bathroom and nearly crashed into her half-asleep, completely naked brother-in-law.
God, I need this job. It would not only replace the one she’d just lost, but it would also give her somewhere to live that didn’t involve infringing upon her sister’s privacy. Best of all, she wouldn’t have to drop out of college.
The double glass doors swung open and a tall man with dark brown hair that barely grazed his shoulders breezed in. His confident stride left no doubt he was the boss. She sucked in a nervous breath and hoped he couldn't hear the banging of her heart against her ribcage.
Please don’t let this be the guy I'm interviewing with. Way too good looking.
He stopped at the coffee station and poured himself a cup. The cut of his expensive suit emphasized broad shoulders and a slim waist. The morning sun reflected in his emerald eyes. God, he was beautiful with a strong jaw, a cleft chin and prominent cheekbones. And no wedding band. Perfect, except for a slanted scar on his forehead. And he looked familiar.
Realization slapped her like a blast of frigid winter air.
Oh, no. He was the guy who'd nearly sideswiped Lindsay’s car a couple days ago in his hot little Porsche, the guy she’d flicked off. Her heart clunked.
Damn. She'd hoped she had a shot at this job. Too good to be true. Now what would she do?