“Just hold on.” He followed her to the office, where she picked up her purse and looped the strap over her shoulder. She was pale, her eyes dark when she faced him. Had he scared her that badly?
She stepped forward, her hand clenched around the leather strap. “Please move.”
Roman saw she’d already cleared work space on the card table and made neat piles. He didn’t want this girl to leave. “Give me a hint why you’re quitting already.”
“I could give you a list.”
“Look.” He lifted his hands. “You’re catching me on a bad day.”
“Mrs. Sandoval said you don’t have any good ones.” She took a shaky breath and met his gaze.
She clearly regretted speaking so quickly, but he couldn’t argue. “Yeah, well, the people she sent weren’t a good fit. The whole process has been frustrating, to say the least.”
“That’s not my fault, Mr. Velasco.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
She took a step back. “I’m not trying to make you angry.”
Was that it? “I’m not angry with you. I’m just . . .” He muttered a foul word under his breath. “I don’t know what I want, but I think you’re what I need.”
She probably came from a nice tidy life. Two parents, nice home in a nice suburb, private school, college. A class act. He hadn’t said anything worse than what she’d hear in a mall, but clearly, she found him offensive. He’d have to be more careful if he wanted to keep Grace Moore around. “You’ll be working in here. I’ll be in my studio. We won’t be around each other that much.”
“A personal assistant has to work in close contact with her boss. It’s the nature of the job.”
“Personal is a loaded word.” He let his smile turn rogue. Seeing that didn’t go over well, he removed any hint of innuendo. “Maybe I should call you something else.”
“You can call me Ms. Moore.”
She was unbending a little, but still setting boundaries. Okay. He’d honor them. “Ms. Moore it is.” He could be respectful . . . when the situation called for it. She frowned, studying him like a bug under glass. “At least give me two weeks before you quit.”
Her shoulders drooped slightly. “Two weeks.” She made it sound like a lifetime, but she let the purse strap slip off her shoulder. “Please don’t swear at me again.”
“If I swear, it won’t be aimed at you. But I’ll try to be careful when you’re around. Deal?” He held out his hand. She bit her lip before she accepted the gesture. Her hand was cold and trembled slightly before she withdrew it.
“I’d better get back to work.”
He got the hint. If she proved to be as efficient as she looked, things might just work out this time. He found himself curious. “Why a temp agency?”
“It’s the only thing I could find.” She blushed.
He felt on firmer ground. “Good to know you need this job as much as I need an assistant.” She didn’t say anything. He tilted his head, studying her. “Where did you work before the temp agency?”
“At a public relations firm.”
“And left because . . . ?”
“I was redundant, as the British would say.” She glanced at him. “I have a letter of recommendation, if you’d like to see it.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Sandoval vetted you.”
She took a deep breath. “I do need this job, Mr. Velasco, but I’m sure you understand I’m looking for something better than temp work. I’ll give you my best while I’m here.” She gave a slight shrug, as if not holding much hope that her best would be good enough. “You’re a far cry from my last boss.”
“A Philistine?” There was that blush again. He couldn’t remember having met a girl who blushed at all, let alone three times in a few hours.
“He was a gentleman.”
Meaning Roman wasn’t. He’d been taught to play the role when necessary. “Why aren’t you still with him?”
“He retired and turned his business over to another firm. They were fully staffed.”
Roman looked her over again. He wasn’t sure he liked anyone making rules in his house, but then this one had done more in two hours than the combined efforts of the other four. And he liked her. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was her complete lack of interest in him. Might be nice to have someone who did the work and didn’t ask too many questions.