The Candidate Read Online Free Page A

groups, with their loud chatter and play of wheels and then gone again, leaving her with the steady rhythm of her own breath and feet. A couple of other runners acknowledged her with an economical nod of the head or raised hand, careful, like her, not to break stride or interrupt the magic of a good run.
    Ginny ran on, long ponytail bouncing from shoulder to shoulder, the aged baseball cap that was her running companion jammed low over her face. As Mission Bay came into view she veered off onto the footbridge to take the path closest to the sea. Fully warmed up, she settled into a good, strong run and felt the hum take over. When it felt this fabulous, she believed she could run forever.
    Her shoulders relaxed and the nerviness from a night of interrupted sleep began to ease. If only she could find a way besides running to banish the three a.m. head babble that had plagued her for the best part of a week. Kohi came into sight with its line of waterfront cafés. It wasn’t that she was nervous, or particularly stressed. No, it was definitely excitement, anticipation, and just wanting to get the hell on with it that was keeping her up at night.
    The Edge took over for a heart-ripping solo as she reached St Heliers and headed for home. Ginny checked her watch: her time was bang-on. She’d allowed herself a small margin on this run and so far she was at the lower end of that. Her thighs started to burn as she pushed herself. It would be good to get back quicker than usual; a new personal best would set her up well for the day ahead.
    The sun was well and truly up as she came around the final sweep and saw her car. It was the least attractive part of the run, where Tamaki Drive led into the city, but on such a pristine morning it was hard to mind the gentle bays giving way to seawall. Ginny’s legs were buzzing with lactic acid and her breathing competed loudly with U2. Sweat ran down her forehead and she briefly closed her eyes, then went hard for the last few hundred metres.
    Grateful, and not as graceful as she would have liked, she bent over the car’s bonnet, ostensibly to stretch but also to brace herself for the great gasps of air she needed.
    She hadn’t made a new PB, but she was certainly flirting with it. She pulled her ankles up behind, left then right, easing out her quadriceps. By the time she opened the car for her water bottle, her breathing was almost back to normal and she felt great. Loose, limber, pumped up and ready.
    After a long drink, she jumped into the car and headed back into the city where work awaited.
     
    Ginny had worked very hard to establish her own fledgling recruitment company. In the first terrifying months, she’d ridden the risk — driven by an excruciating fear of failure and the steadily growing belief that she was damn good at what she did. The work had paid off. Even in a market that had seemed saturated, she’d consolidated a good spread of client relationships, and Shine Consulting had been born.
    Some thought her business name was naff, but Ginny didn’t give a flying fuck. As far as she was concerned, her work was all about helping her clients and candidates to shine.
    Fast forward a few years and she had a good little business. Without the pressure she’d known in bigger firms to chase the sale first and deliver the goods second, she had built a reputation as a quality recruiter: an honest and dedicated professional who dotted the i’s, and crossed the t’s. It was a no-brainer to Ginny, but since many of her competitors didn’t bring that same ethos to their work, Shine Consulting’s reputation grew.
    It was knocking on seven thirty and the city was starting to buzz. At the parking building Ginny slotted her car into its space, grabbed her iPod and cap, and walked quickly toward her home and office on one of the small laneways that criss-crossed the city centre.
    While plenty of her own sweat and tears had gone into Shine, without her dad the business might never have