Catch a Mate Read Free Page B

sometimes seemed) and had many wonderful ideas, if she did say so herself, about taking CAM to the next level. Like a counseling center for victims of infidelity, support groups and even a Web site dedicated to warning women about particular men. Sort of an Internet Wall of Shame, appropriately dubbed the Swine Whine, with ratings of just how high on the Pigometer certain individuals ranked. Oklahoma’s most un wanted.
    If she had her way, CAM’s clients would get the kind of help her mother hadn’t.
    Now that conversation would have to wait. Again.
    Bad news …she gulped. Something was about to go down, that was for sure, and from the sound of Anne’s voice, Jillian suspected it was herself.

Two
    I miss my teddy bear. Would you sleep with me?
    J ILLIAN STEPPED INTO Anne’s office, her heart thundering. Anne was already settled behind her desk. She was a stern, no-nonsense woman, always abrupt and demanding, but she’d never commanded Jillian’s presence with such force before. Never told her she had “bad news.”
    What was going on? Does she want to get rid of me? Why? What could Jillian possibly have done? She studied her boss. Anne was of indeterminate age and refused to discuss the matter on threat of death. Jillian’s guess? Two thousand, give or take a year. Deep lines bracketed her mouth, eyes and cheeks. Coarse gray hair frizzed—no. Today her hair wasn’t frizzed. Today her hair was slicked back from her face, making her look almost…pretty. Huh. That was a first, too.
    Anne glanced up from the papers on her desk; her hazel eyes, normally devoid of any emotion except annoyance, were now colored with guilt. “Shut the door,” Anne said, returning her attention to the papers.
    Without turning her back on her boss, Jillian pressed the heavy glass door closed. The blinds were drawn, so no one could see inside. She sent her nervous gaze around the spacious room. Large windows consumed the far wall and numerous dying plants were lined up in front of them. An opened bottle of Scotch rested on the wet bar.
    One day, she wanted this office to be her own. Was that even a possibility now?
    Cute Ass sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. His back was to her and he didn’t bother turning to acknowledge her. He remained slumped in the plush blue seat, completely relaxed. A little irreverent.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Jillian asked, proud that she sounded at ease and unconcerned.
    â€œSit down.” With a brusque chin tilt, Anne motioned to the other chair—the one beside Cute Ass.
    Did Anne plan to fire her? Was the blond here to protect her in case Jillian went ballistic? Instantly her mind replayed the last few assignments she’d taken. Sure, she had kneed one target in the balls. But he could still father children. Sure, she had caused a barroom brawl. But no one had died.
    She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and strode to the chair. She eased down, smoothing her jean skirt with shaky hands. “What’s going on?” she asked again.
    â€œJillian Greene,” Anne said, “meet Marcus Brody. Marcus, Jillian.”
    You’re breezy. Not a care. “Nice to meet you,” she told him, twisting and holding out a hand.
    His attention never veered in her direction. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, merely arching a brow in acknowledgment of her words. O-kay. So he didn’t want to look at, talk to or touch her. Bad news…
    The moisture in her mouth dried. Maybe he wasn’t so cute, after all. Jillian’s hand dropped to her side.
    Anne propped her elbows on the desk and pinned her with a hard stare. “Marcus has joined the agency as bait.”
    â€œWhat?” Her jaw dropped open, but she closed it with a snap. Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that didn’t even hit the bottom of the list. So many times she had heard Anne swear to God and her three bastard