Temping is Hell Read Online Free

one of our drivers drop you off, okay? It’s too late for you to catch a cab by yourself.”
    “That’s really nice of you.” She smiled at him, then surprised him further by giving him a gentle punch on the arm. “You’re a good guy, no matter what the papers say. You know that?”
    He felt a surge of warmth, started to take one step closer. Then stopped himself abruptly.
    What the hell am I doing?
    It was one o’clock in the morning, and he was joking with a cute redheaded temp. Noticing her perfume. Smiling at her.
    Don’t you remember why you’re here?
    He closed his eyes. Thinking of the real reason he’d moved to Oakland. Thinking, for a moment, of the real—and deadly serious—purpose of the new Fiendish headquarters.
    And it’s just the beginning.
    “No, Kate,” he said in a low voice, finally taking a deliberate step away from her. “No, I’m really not a good guy.”
    …
    Kate fell asleep in the town car. To her embarrassment, the driver actually had to nudge her awake when he got to her parents’ driveway. She rubbed her eyes, thanking him, then stumbled up the walk, the motion-sensor security lights momentarily blinding her. She fumbled with the lock, opening the door as she yawned.
    There was an audible click . Not the sound of the lock—the sound of a gun hammer being cocked back.
    She froze, immediately awake.
    The light switched on.
    Her father stood there in his ratty boxers and a scruffy plaid flannel bathrobe in shades of faded orange and brown. His moccasins were scuffed and there was a hole developing in the sole, she noticed.
    He was also pointing a gun at her.
    “Damn. And I really wanted to steal that flat screen.”
    “You always such a smart-ass when someone’s got a gun pointed at you?” He scowled at her, de-cocking the service revolver in his hand.
    “I figure if you haven’t shot me by now, my odds are pretty good.” She’d meant for it to come out as a joke. Considering her history of trouble, she realized it would’ve been funnier if it weren’t so true.
    “You break your cell phone?”
    “I didn’t expect to work so late,” she said, hanging up her jacket on one of the pegs by the door and kicking off her pumps. She’d forgotten how uncomfortable heeled shoes were—she was wearing flats tomorrow, definitely. “And I’ve got to get back to it by eight forty five tomorrow, so…”
    “You were at work?”
    The clear doubt in his voice slapped at her. “I really am sorry I didn’t call, Dad.”
    “You know we worry,” he said, and there was just a tinge of judgment to it. She was twenty-nine years old, not thirteen, but come home late, and suddenly it was like junior high all over again.
    This is what happens when you move back in with your parents.
    She straightened. “I got that temp job at Fiendish Enterprises. The lady I’m working for is…”
    A real bitch.
    “Demanding,” she said instead.
    “Do they expect you to come home at two in the morning every night?” he asked. “And who dropped you off? Those headlights were like helicopter floods; they woke me up.”
    “Town car. Company car,” she clarified. “The boss—the big boss—said I shouldn’t grab a cab so late. Little did he know that I’d be putting my life in jeopardy just by walking into my parents’ living room, huh?”
    “Old habits.” Her dad grunted, putting the gun away. “Think you’ll be able to hold onto this job?”
    She stiffened. “I held onto the job at Uncle Felix’s for three years,” she said, not even bothering to keep the resentment out of her voice this time.
    “Felix isn’t exactly demanding ,” he threw back.
    “Dad, it’s late, and I’m too tired to have this conversation,” she said, heading for the stairs. “I was at work. I’m doing everything I can to keep this job. Okay?”
    Her father’s hair was thinning, going from a sandy brown to a peppery gray. It was standing straight up—he’d obviously been tugging at it. “Are you