Temping is Hell Read Free Page B

isn’t about need,” he pointed out. “Sometimes, it’s about desire.”
    She paused for a second, and her green eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing just a little.
    He wasn’t sure why he was needling her so hard, other than that sanctimonious pleasure-deniers tended to get his boxers in a bunch. But there was something about challenging her, watching her expression go surly, that was actually entertaining.
    It occurred to him that, for a man who had made his livelihood on expensive, extreme, and exclusive options for entertainment, he actually, personally, enjoyed precious little of it.
    “So what about fun?” he prompted. “Got something against that, as well?”
    “Sure, I like fun. What’s not to like?” Kate agreed absently, looking up and down the corridor, obviously more intent on finding Maggie’s office than on what she was saying. “But from what I’ve seen, actually working here isn’t fun.”
    Now it was his turn to grimace. “It isn’t?”
    “No. It’s working your ass off to convince other people to drop a wad of cash on stuff they don’t need, so they can momentarily pretend their lives don’t suck as they bust ass to afford the stuff we’re selling… Here we are. Maggie’s office.”
    He crossed his arms as she tried to put a note down on the desk, only to find no clear space. Finally, she sighed and put it on Maggie’s chair.
    “So what you’re saying,” he reiterated as they headed toward the elevators, “is that my job—and everybody else’s job here—is basically pushing expensive, self-indulgent, ultimately hollow crap.”
    She was silent for a second. Then she sighed, and to his surprise, she put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. That’s unfair. I’ve had a crappy day, and not a lot of great experiences with big corporate, but I’m firmly against snap judgments. I apologize for that.”
    Her apology, and self-awareness, threw him off.
    “Besides, you obviously love it here,” she said in a low, serious voice, releasing his arm and walking. “I felt that way about the place I used to work, before it went under. I guess… I just miss the way things used to be.”
    I know that feeling , he thought.
    “Besides, one of these days, I really should learn when to shut up.”
    He laughed at her abashed tone. “You’re sort of a neat person, Kate O’Hara. And a very inventive singer.”
    “And you’re probably the coolest billionaire I’ve ever met, Thomas Kestrel,” she said with a little chuckle. “Of course, you may be the only billionaire I’ve ever met, so that kind of narrows the field.”
    “You knew who I was?” The elevator arrived, and he followed her in, torn between feeling amused at her audacity and a little disappointed—was she just playing up the smart-ass act, trying to get his attention?
    “Your picture’s in the lobby,” she pointed out. “We’re not talking Sherlock Holmes here.”
    “So, knowing all that, you still panned my corporation?” he pressed. “To my face?”
    “Apparently.” She was blushing again, like rose petals on milk. Suddenly, he got the strong feeling that she wasn’t acting. She was not only being herself—she was probably clinically incapable of being anything else. “Besides, I don’t mean to make it sound like this is, you know, that bad. It could’ve been worse.”
    He studied her, paused for a beat. “Could’ve been Microsoft, huh?”
    “Don’t even joke.” She shuddered. “Anyway, it’s later than I thought. I missed the last train. Guess I’d better call a cab.”
    He could smell her perfume, if it was perfume. Maybe it was some kind of soap. It smelled sort of flowery, but not in an overpowering way. Like… lemon, he thought, and the white clover he used to stretch out in, back home in North Carolina. He took a deep breath and noticed he was standing a little closer to her than necessary.
    He didn’t move.
    Pulling out his phone, he tapped a text to his limo company. “Listen, I’ll have