kidding.” Jason’s smile widened. “So why haven’t I heard anything about this guy?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Claire needed to see the text Jason had sent. She jumped for the phone and collided with him. Her hands flattened against his chest as she inhaled his scent. It was woodsy and masculine.
“Are you really entering a wet T-shirt contest?” he asked quietly.
She jerked her head up in shock. Jason’s face was right above hers. His blue eyes were mesmerizing and she hurriedly stepped away. “That’s what he asked?”
“No, I’m asking you.”
She nervously licked her bottom lip. “Why? Do you think I could win?”
Claire should have curbed her tongue. Deep down she knew that question would require Jason to look at her—really look at her. Her skin tingled with awareness as his eyes darkened. Her breasts felt heavy and tight under her printed pink top as his gaze lingered on her chest. She didn’t breathe until his eyes met hers again.
“I don’t think you’re the kind of woman who could enter a wet T-shirt contest.”
Claire reared her head back. “Could?” she repeated. What did that mean? Did he believe she lacked the curves or the audacity for that kind of competition?
“I meant would.” Her phone chimed again. Claire held back a panicked whimper. Jason glanced at the screen but didn’t say anything about it. “It was supposed to be a compliment.”
Of course it was. She nodded silently. Taking a long look at her and saying she couldn’t enter a wet T-shirt contest could only be construed as complimentary.
Her phone chimed again. Claire wanted to wrap her arms around her. Instead she bunched her hands into fists. She wasn’t going to react. She wasn’t in a playful mood and Jason would catch on. He’d soon lose interest and give her back the phone.
Jason read the text and frowned. “Have you ever been to one of those contests?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly. She didn’t even know where they were held or if there were rules. “Why?”
“Then you may have a problem.” Jason gave her the phone. “Looks like Max is coming for a visit so he can see you in action.”
Visit? That didn’t make any sense. Max wouldn’t waste his time visiting a rural small town. She read his last text.
I’m going to be in Seattle next Friday. Would love to meet up.
She doubled over as her stomach twisted violently. “Nooo.”
Another text popped up.
Consider this challenge your interview—transform yourself in one week and the job is yours.
The panic clawed her chest as she gulped in air. “This isn’t happening.”
* * *
JASON WATCHED CLAIRE with growing concern. She shoved her hands in her long blond hair. Her blue eyes were dull and her full lips were pinched. Her fair skin had gone white. The woman had always been uptight but he had never seen her this upset before.
He glanced at the message on her phone. “Transform?” he asked as he curled his arm around her shoulders. She felt soft and delicate against him. “What is he talking about?”
“Max Blair helps celebrities manage their public image on social media. He is a big deal and he’s interviewing me for a job.” She covered her face with her hands. “But I have to pass a test by reinventing myself into a wild party girl.”
Claire Miller, a party girl? He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea. This Max Blair knew how to test her. Claire didn’t have the attitude to be a wild woman. She was quiet and gentle. Serious. Intense. Always had been. At times it turned into anxiety. When that happened, he tried to distract her until she calmed down. He wasn’t always successful.
But this test was something else. Claire didn’t like revealing anything about herself, but he discovered something new every time he saw her. Like when she had unintentionally shown her deep romantic streak when she gathered the love stories of his grandparents and parents for a Valentine’s Day feature on the website. Claire had tried to act as if it was all to emphasize the family aspect of the winery, but she couldn’t hide her true interest from him.
“Are you going to do the interview?”
“I want the job.” She stumbled to the bar stool. Claire sat down and flopped her arms and head onto the bar. “Everyone in my industry would kill to be Max’s protégé. I want to be the one. I want everyone envying me for a change. Have my colleagues know my name and listen to what I have to say.”
He was missing something. “Then what is stopping you?”
“It means I have to appear...bolder than I am.”
Bold? No, that wasn’t Claire Miller. She was like his favorite dry Riesling—a balanced contrast of sharp and sweet. He would have added flowery, considering her secret romantic side, but now he wondered if there was an underlying hint of spice.
“This interview technique is questionable,” Jason said. “Are you sure he’s not one of those creeps who uses his position to get women into bed? Does he use job openings as a casting couch?”
“Jason, please.” Her voice was muffled. “Now is not the time to share your paranoid theories that I’m walking into danger.”
“Paranoid theories?” he repeated. He had pulled Claire and his sister, Kim, out of one bad situation after another for as long as he could remember. He didn’t ask for the role as their protector but he couldn’t stop being concerned. Especially about Claire. She seemed more vulnerable and more trusting than his sister.
“You didn’t answer my question, Claire. What do you know about this guy?”
Claire sighed. “He’s a legend and has launched the career of many influential people in the field. Max can make you a star or he can send you back into obscurity. He gets hundreds of résumés in a week and he approached me for a job. Me.”
Jason realized Claire had been seduced simply by the way she was offered the position. “Is this your dream job?”
She rocked her head from side to side. “I never allowed myself to dream about it. I didn’t think it was possible.”
Jason sat down next to her. “What about your business? You built it from scratch. You are the boss.”
“I know.” She lifted her head. “I love my work. I love being in charge. But this offer...I could be more. I could be a star in my industry.”
Jason watched her silently. He didn’t think that accolades would have been important to Claire. She didn’t seek the spotlight.
She rested her head against her hand. “The thing is, I’m sure I could do this assignment. I can create an image and maintain it. Make it feel authentic. I’ve done it many times for my clients. But can I do it to myself?”
Jason
