The Good Father

Oh, no. Her cell phone had run out of juice just before lunch. Currently it was charging in her car. “I didn’t check my voice mail,” Jane stated without apology. “Is there a problem?”

“Mr. Remington had to run out—some type of printing emergency. He told me to extend his apologies.”

“Oh.” Jane almost sagged with disappointment. “Can I reschedule, then?”

“Actually, Mr. Remington has already made a decision about the artist.”

“Without even interviewing all the candidates?”

Carol hesitated. “I’m sure he would look at your work as a courtesy.”

A courtesy? Like hell. He’d caused her divorce, or at least accelerated the timeline. The least he could do was give her a shot at the position. “I’ll just wait here until he returns.”

“Why don’t I make you another appointment,” Carol said smoothly.

So he could cancel that one, too? “I’d prefer to wait.” She was going to see Max Remington today, one way or another.

Carol nodded just as a door opened behind her and Max Remington appeared. “Carol, has John Canfield—” Surprise registered on his handsome face as he spotted Jane and recognized her. “Jane? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to interview for the artist position.”

“You’re Jane Selwyn? I thought your last name was Simone.”

Jane inhaled sharply. He was even better-looking than she remembered. After a few months in Port Clara he’d acquired a golden tan, and his unruly hair had turned more blond than brown.

He wore neatly pressed jeans riding low on his slim hips and an open-collar shirt, no tie, no jacket, and she felt ridiculously overdressed. Few people wore suits in their laid-back beach community, but she’d thought it appropriate for an interview.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his lingering gaze said he approved, but not in a completely professional way.

Her face flushed. She told herself it was the weather.

“I changed back to my maiden name.” She’d wanted nothing to remind her of Scott.

“I told Ms. Selwyn that the job was already filled,” Carol put in.

Max quickly overcame his surprise and smiled, revealing even, white teeth. “It’s great to see you again.”

Jane stood, fumbling her portfolio before she could extend her hand to accept his warm handshake. “I’m surprised you would make a decision without interviewing all of the candidates.”

“Well, now, I was leaning toward one applicant, but I haven’t made a final, final decision yet.”

Carol peered at him skeptically over her half-moon reading glasses.

“Why don’t you come back to my office,” Max continued. “Pardon the mess—the workers are still putting in the finishing touches.”

Mess was right. Men were laying carpet in the hallway, painting walls, installing light fixtures. Jane had to dodge ladders, sawhorses and paint buckets, and once she nearly tripped because her attention was focused on her potential employer’s buns.

She’d sworn up and down to her ex-husband that she hadn’t been flirting with Max that fateful day of their first meeting a few months ago. But he’d certainly been flirting with her, and on some level she had responded to him. How could she not? How could any woman with a pulse not feel drawn to such a gorgeous male?

He held the door of his office open, and she entered. It was large but not ridiculously so and a little bit messy, but nothing like the hallway outside. At least it had carpet, paint and furniture.

He cleared off a small table and pulled out a chair for her. “Sorry to be so casual. My conference room furniture hasn’t arrived yet.”

“This is fine. You’re certainly doing up everything first-class.” She settled into the chair, again juggling her purse and portfolio. Why did she feel so awkward? As a corporate wife she’d been required to handle all kinds of social situations, from formal banquets to funerals to ladies’ coffee klatches, and she’d never had problems saying the right thing or fitting in. But now she second-guessed every word.

“Advertising is all about image.” He settled at the table across from her and placed her résumé, such as it was, in front of him.

“Your reception area certainly makes a statement.”

“You think it’s too much?” He sounded a bit worried.

Goodness, why would he care what she thought? “No, I think it’s lovely. I love the sound of moving water.”

“I guess you would, since you live on a boat.”

She wished he didn’t know quite so much about her already. But his cousin, Cooper, owned the fishing charter boat berthed next door to her, and she was close friends with Cooper’s wife, Allie. In fact, she and Max had both been in Cooper and Allie’s wedding, though they’d hardly exchanged two words. She’d been very subdued that day, wanting to feel happy for her friend but unable to shake her overall pessimism regarding marriage.

In addition to her living situation, Max also knew she was freshly divorced and a single mother—and that her millionaire ex-husband had a violent temper.

“Why don’t I show you my portfolio?” Jane said brightly, wanting to get it over with. She figured her work would speak for itself. Either he would see her talent and give her a chance, or he wouldn’t.

She unzipped the large, black leather case, a thoughtful graduation present from her parents, and opened it in front of Max. He flipped through it silently, scrutinizing each page.

“I’m not familiar with any of your clients. Can you tell me a little bit about them?”

“They’re mostly fictitious,” she blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

“Most of this work was done as class assignments. The businesses don’t exist. Remington Charters is the only real client I’ve ever had.” She had designed a logo for Allie’s fishing business before Cooper had come on the scene.

She expelled a long breath. There, she’d gotten the worst news out.

“Your résumé says you’ve been working freelance since you graduated.”

“A gross exaggeration to get me in the door,” she admitted. “If you want the absolute truth, I don’t have much experience. But I have talent, education and technical know-how.”

“Can you do video computer editing?”

She nodded firmly. “I did some video work in school. I’m sure the technology has advanced, but I can learn it. I’ll learn it on my own time.”

He looked at her, at her artwork, then back at her. He was going to reject her, that was obvious.

She leaned forward slightly. “Just give me a chance, Mr. Remington…Max. I won’t lie to you. I need this job. I’m already behind on my payments to the marina, and pretty soon they’re going to kick me out and…and I’ll just have to drift, I guess.”

Oh, God, she hadn’t meant to say all that. Please, sir, I want some more. Could she humiliate herself any further?

Max studied the woman sitting across from him. He’d been surprised as hell to find out she was Jane Selwyn. If he’d known, he never would have even scheduled an interview.