SEE HIM DIE Read Free

excellent academic credentials, it would be difficult to justify your hire into our management program when I have a dozen other applicants with significant work histories.”
    “I understand completely,” she hastened to say. “I was actually hoping to be considered for the entry level position. It’s my understanding the position requires no professional work experience.”
    His eyebrows winged up his forehead. “Oh, I’m afraid you’re quite overqualified for that position. We generally select applicants who are still working toward their MBA.”
    Her grip tightened on the lavishly upholstered arms of her chair, keeping her seated when she wanted to fly to her feet and rant at the injustice of his words. “I can assure you I would be more than happy with an entry level position, Mr. Preston. I fully understand that my lack of experience is a liability. I’m prepared to accept a much lower salary.”
    He leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. As she watched, her heart hammering against her sternum, he carefully cleaned each lens with a handkerchief from his jacket pocket before he responded. “I certainly empathize with your position. To be quite frank, Ms. Barton, our company prefers the fresh, aggressive new graduates for our entry level positions, if you get my meaning.”
    Julie wilted. She got his meaning all right. It was remarkably simple. She was not what they were looking for. The rest of the conversation was lost on her. She was too busy struggling to accept another rejection. Mr. Preston showed her to the elevator and Mr. Ritter met her in the lobby on the first floor to see her out.
    And that was that.
    Moving on autopilot with her stomach hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her shoes, Julie climbed into the old Buick and slammed the door. Three tries were required to get the dilapidated door to stay closed. She shoved the keys into the ignition and fired up the engine.
    She didn’t get the job.
    Under experienced.
    Overqualified.
    Screwed
.
    She stomped on the gas pedal and the Buick rocketed into the street. The unexpected lunge flung her back against the seat, but an abrupt stop sent her hurling forward. Only her firm grip on the steering wheel kept her head from banging the windshield as the crunch of metal registered in her brain.
    A car.
    Red.
    Sporty.
    “Oh, hell,” she hissed, dread expanding in her chest. She’d rear-ended a shiny red sports car. Her eyes widened when a tall, broad-shouldered man climbed out of the Mustang. Just her luck.
    Swallowing back her apprehension, Julie shoved the gearshift into Park and scrambled out of the Buick. Her legs felt rubbery beneath her. “I’m so sorry,” she offered, her voice climbing toward hysteria. “I... I’m not used to driving this car.”
    Mrs. Deerman’s words about the hair trigger accelerator rang in her ears. Her gaze swung to the front end of her neighbor’s car and relief rushed through her. Thank God there was no damage. The damn thing was like a tank.
    When her attention landed on the other vehicle, a groan escaped her lips. The car looked brand new and the rear bumper was smashed. What a mess!
    “My sentiments exactly,” the man said. He fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll get a traffic cop over here so we can get a report.”
    “No!”
    His hand stalled halfway to its destination, he stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
    “I mean...” She moistened her lips and struggled to steady herself. “There’s no need to call the police.” She made a pathetic sound that was meant to be a laugh. “You give me your name and number and I’ll give you mine. I’d prefer to keep this between us.” She cleared her throat and gestured to his car. “I’ll pay for the damages.”
    The deep, chocolate brown gaze belonging to the man towering over her narrowed suspiciously. He had nice eyes, she thought before she could shake off the silly notion. Nice, but still