Page 68 of Positively Pricked
I reached out and grabbed a handful of chips. I popped them into my mouth and mumbled, "They're mine now."
Charlotte studied my face. "Should I be worried? Because you look like you might be losing it."
"Oh, please." I gave a weak laugh. "I'm not losing it. It's gone."
In fact, I was pretty sure that I'd lost my sanity the moment I'd signed that job offer. But the salary – not to mention the perks – had been impossible to resist. Obviously, none of this was an accident. The way it looked, the paperwork had been drawn up long before I arrived in Zane's office.
I couldn't help but wonder, why me?
Obviously, there was something Zane wasn't telling me. But what?
Charlotte leaned closer and squinted at my face. "I hate to ask, but did something happen to your nose?"
Again, I reached for my glass. "Oh yeah." I took a good, long drink and returned the now-empty glass to the table.
"Well?" Charlotte said. "What happened?"
I sighed. "Rug burn."
"Seriously?"
I reached up to touch the tip of my nose. Oh sure, the carpet in Zane's office hadlookedall soft and plush, but it was a different story when you smashed your face into it.
I muttered, "Stupid carpet."
The only upside was that the rug-burn had been barely visible at first. In fact, my nose hadn't gotten truly red until that hot bath and, yes, too much merlot.
By Monday, my nose would be as good as new.
Or at least, I sure hoped so. It would, after all, be my first day on the job – a job I'd only taken because the offer had been impossible to resist.
And here, I thought I had integrity.
Turns out, not so much.
But then again, integrity wouldn’t pay the bills. And it wasn't like I'd taken a job beating orphans. The truth was, this would've been my dream job, if only someone else had offered it to me.
Still, it reminded me of that Italian lunch with Tiffany. Apparently, I could be bought with pasta and bread sticks – or in the case of Zane, a six-figure salary and a whole bunch of perks.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. "I’m a job slut."
"What?" Charlotte said. "So, he expects you to—"
My eyes snapped back open, "God no. I didn't mean itthatway."
And yet, an image popped into my brain. The image was of me and Zane, sprawled across that giant desk of his.Damn it.It was an image I didn't need, and not only because, inexplicably, I was wearing those stupid red heels and not much else.
Charlotte said, "Then whatdidyou mean?"
As for Zane, in my unwanted fantasy, he'd been wearing that same expensive suit, minus the shirt. Funny though, the tie was still there. And it looked way too good against his bare, muscular chest.
I mumbled, "Huh?"
Charlotte made a sound of frustration. "When you called yourself a job slut, what were you talking about?"
"Oh." I snapped back to reality. "That? I just mean that I hate the guy, and yet, when I saw that offer…" I let my words trail off into something like a sigh.
"Tell me something," Charlotte said. "Do you regret it?"
