A Perfect Match: (Raining Romance Series) Read Free Page A

wears many hats, only one of which is administrative assistant.  Sahara Birkner holds fifty-percent ownership of Zena Starkler and one-hundred percent of Rhein’s heart.”
    Jaslyn’s shoulders slumped under the weight of his words.  Her emotions were all jumbled. Her heart was breaking for the CEO and, selfishly for herself.  Earlier, for a few brief moments, she had been positive he was flirting with her.  Had she been so desperate as to imagine his eyes adoring her breasts and the heated inflections of his voice?
    That was likely the case.  If the woman he loved was dying, he certainly wouldn’t be engaging in unseemly behavior.  It was all in Jaslyn’s head. Wishful thinking for sure.  She hadn’t been on a date in over two years, not since her breakup with Eric.  The two-timing asshole had really worked a number on her.  Even though she hadn’t let the incident make her bitter, it had made her a tad more distrustful.
    Forcing herself to focus on the present, she said, “I understand.  If Mr. Birkner is willing to give me another chance, I’ll do my very best for him and this company.”
    “Thank you, Miss Scarpa,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.  “In addition to the temp agency’s fee, I’m going to have Human Resources invoice an additional bonus.  It will be paid to you personally.”
    “You don’t have to do that.  My regular pay will be enough.”
    “No. It won’t.  Trust me.  Now I must have a word with Bree.  I want to make sure your work station is set up, your laptop is booted up and you have a healthy supply of pens and pads at your disposal,” he said, winking.  “While I take care of those things, why don’t you take a break?  Have yourself a beverage and a snack.”
     
    RHEIN RUBBED THE BACK of his neck.  His muscles stayed bunched in clumps of perpetual knots.  He no longer knew the meaning of relaxation.  His body was constantly coiled, ready to strike.  Every minute Sahara lay in a hospital bed, hooked to a dialysis machine, was one more minute he couldn’t breathe.  In his book, money could buy a lot of things, even happiness.  What it couldn’t buy was a six-antigen match—the HLA tissue typing needed for one fucking kidney.  The one that could keep the most important woman in the world alive and a part of his life.
    Sahara had been on a transplant waiting list for nearly three years, and still no compatible kidney had been found.  He was at the end of his hope-rope.  On top of everything else, the last thing he needed was a beaming cheerleader, shaking her pom-poms in his face.  Where did these temp agencies find their employees these days? At Chuckie Cheese? What happened to the administrative assistants of old? The no-nonsense, glasses-hanging-around-the-neck-on-a-lanyard, hairbun-knotted-at-the-nape-of-the-neck secretaries? That’s what he needed. That and another cup of coffee.
    Gulping the hot liquid, he relished the scalding, burning sensation on his tongue and in his throat.  These days he actively looked for ways to reroute the pain from his heart.  He couldn’t imagine life without his sister, Sahara.  She was the only family he had left. She was the reason he started this company.  The reason they left Berlin, Germany for a shot at the American Dream.  The reason he got up in the morning.  The reason he did anything .
    Setting his cup down on a saucer, he slowly turned around, sensing the temp before he saw her.  Taking her in, he couldn’t help but notice how the long, silky hair adorning her pretty, oval face had come loose from its pink ribbon.  Now it cascaded like a river over her slender shoulders.  The thick wavy strands were so black, they were almost blue.  He had only seen that particular shade one other time—in the mirror.  He hadn’t thought much about it before. But now, he longed to weave his fingers through it.  To grip those lovely locks in his fists.  To force her head back and kiss her