Having Fun with Mr. Wrong Read Free Page B

around in her plate.
    “You have to realize that all things happen for a reason. It was your destiny to come to New York. Besides, if you didn’t come here, you never would have met me.” He winked at her and pulled her to him across the breakfast bar long enough for a juicy kiss. For a tiny second, a flash of heat swirled at the bottom of her belly.
    She looked down at her unfinished food and lost her appetite. “Dad wanted me to take advantage of the chance to work with Banter in New York. At the time, Banter was excited to have me on board and paid for my move. I know it’s what they did for all new hires. But they supposedly picked me out of hundreds of students, claiming that I was more qualified than my peers. All that, to now be pushed out. It hurts, even though I want to move on.”
    “They had a position to fill, and you filled it. But that was then, and this is now. It’s time to move on. You’re dwelling too much on the past.” He pointed at her plate. “Eat your food, it’s getting cold.” He spooned more food in his mouth and appeared to drift off in thought for a moment. “You know, Carmala, I love takeout from China Star. It’s worth walking the extra blocks.”
    The last thing on her mind was food. Anxiety, apprehension, and fear replaced her taste for even her favorite dish. Thoughts of relying on a commission-based pay structure tortured her mind.
    And all Guido cared about was food.
    She pushed her plate away. “My career is heading for an about-turn. Which Chinese take-out place we use doesn’t seem to be the issue. I almost feel like you don’t understand the full impact of what I’m going through, Guido.”
    He looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean? How can you say I don’t care?” He hesitated and then added, “I care that you’re not eating. You need to eat.”
    “How can you expect me to sit here and eat?” She raised her voice; her heart rate shot up. “I’m worried about taking on a job that’s fifty percent based on commission. I can’t count on paying the bills if my income is unpredictable.”
    God! She wished she hadn’t had the outburst. Now she’d started an inevitable argument.
    He threw his fork down on the table. “You’re overreacting, Carmala. The guarantee is more than you’re making now. With your fancy degree and accreditations, you can be in charge. They’re even going to upgrade your apartment. What the hell do you have to complain about?”
    Oh, yeah, she’d pissed him off. “Guido, let’s not go there. Please.” It was late. She was tired and so didn’t want to argue. But once an argument started with Guido, there’d be no turning back.
    “What do you mean, let’s not go there ? We’re already there. You have a better opportunity, and you’re going to complain about it? I don’t get you. You know I sit here with you every night as you bitch about your problems at work. I try to get your mind off it, but it doesn’t seem to help.” He rose and scooped the rest of the food on his plate into the trash. “You sure know how to kill a person’s appetite.”
    “You’re being selfish. If you had to make a major change like this, you’d be as scared as I am. Only you never have to worry—”
    “Oh, so you think my work is easy. Half the time, I’m either freezing or sweating my balls off, and I risk injury every day on these age-old properties. You ought to appreciate your cushy offices and working in an air-tempered climate. You wouldn’t know a hard day of work if it hit you in the face.” He cleared the plates off the table.
    And now she somehow hit the nerve that “he didn’t measure up to her,” which she often heard. And hated it. She’d been supportive of him. Why couldn’t he get over his insecurities and accept that white-collar work was work too?
    “You’re not being fair.” Crap. She could say nothing. She’d have to sit back and let him rant and rave.
    “You think you’re so high and mighty with your