Animal Instincts Read Free

truth.”
    “Hey, either you mail in your application like the others, or I put your name on the bad-girl list and you won’t be considered for the position.”
    Normally I would have been cowed by such a patronizing tone. After all, I’d had years of practice with both my real father (may he twist painfully in his grave) and Richard (may he meet his maker soon and twist painfully in his grave). But, as I’ve already mentioned, I’m in the process of becoming a new woman. A new woman who wouldn’t take this kind of crap from a man.
    And, to be honest, the thought of being on that bad-girl list kind of excited me.
    “Listen,” I said, using one finger to poke him firmly in the chest. “This hasn’t been a good day. I suggest you move before you get hurt.”
    He laughed. Actually laughed! “I ain’t movin’, lady.”
    “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Every word held an iron edge.
    “Not gonna happen.” He gave me a cocky grin, revealing crooked, yellowing teeth. “I wouldn’t let you pass now if God Himself shoved me aside.”
    At that moment, something odd came over me. The guard suddenly represented everything that had gone wrong today, yesterday, all of my life. Getting past him wasn’t just necessary for obtaining a job. It was vital for my peace of mind. Can someone say meow?
    “I might not be able to arrange God’s intervention,” I told him, “but I could certainly shove my foot up your ass.”
    Surprise flickered over his weather-roughened features a split second before he frowned. “God, I hate premenstrual women,” he grumbled.
    “If you want premenstrual, I’ll give you a premenstrual bitch slap. What do you think of that?”
    “You tell ’em, honey,” someone yelled.
    I turned. Almost every woman from the bathroom stood behind me, lined up like a St. Patrick’s Day parade. Empowered by their support, I spun back around, absolutely certain I now wore an “I’ll eat you alive” expression.
    The guard took a precautionary step backward.
    “You have exactly two seconds to get out of my way,” I ground out, “or you’re going to regret it. I spoke with Linda Powell three days ago—”
    “Linda Powell?” Sheer terror clouded his eyes and he stepped aside. “Why didn’t you say so? Take the express elevator. Nineteenth floor.”
    Shocked by my success, I could only blink up at him. The women behind me acted instantly, surging forward. Unprepared for movement, I was propelled past the guard and into the elevator. I managed to right myself before I kissed the carpet.
    “ I spoke with Linda Powell,” several women shouted at once. “I did. I swear.”
    “Back off, ladies,” I heard the guard say, just as the doors closed around me.
    As I rode up the many flights, my hands began tosweat and my heartbeat quickened. I don’t hate heights. I simply hate the knowledge that I could plummet to my death at any moment. Thankfully, the elevator didn’t crash and I made it to the office with a few minutes to spare, one of the advantages of being a perpetual early bird.
    A woman wearing a stiff black tailored suit manned the reception desk. Her black hair was slicked back from her face, not a single strand free. The bun was so tight, in fact, her eyes slanted upward. Her pale, pale skin (even paler than mine and I’m practically albino) gave her an eerie, almost vampiric appearance.
    “Is this Royce Powell’s office?” I asked, just to be sure.
    “Yes.” The severe, frowning woman glanced up through the black fringe of her lashes. “And you are?”
    “Naomi Delacroix. I’m here to see him.”
    She gave me a once-over and obviously found me lacking. Her frown deepened. “Applications are supposed to be mailed, not personally delivered.”
    Application? Lord, what was it with the people in this building? Royce Powell had called me months ago—okay, he’d called me several times over the last few months, but I’d ignored him and never phoned him back. I hadn’t had the courage to