Temping is Hell (11 page)

Kate chose that moment to look over. She winced at Yagi’s expression, turning away.

Thomas held his breath.

Yagi was still glaring. The demons around Kate started to fidget, squirming uncomfortably. One stood up, moving to the far side of the room.

Kate sneaked another glance at Yagi. Then she frowned, sending Thomas a look.
What’s up with him?

If Yagi glared any harder, Thomas thought, his eyes would literally shoot flames.

Kate stared back.

Then slowly, deliberately, she crossed her eyes, sticking out her tongue.

Yagi coughed, trying to cover a laugh. “All right. She’s not possessed.”

“What, because she made a face at you?”

“No,” Yagi said, his tone regaining its solemnity. “When you hired me, I mentioned that I have… let’s say a close relationship with
oni
—demons. I am powerful enough to sense and manipulate all but the most powerful of them. If she had been possessed, I would have been able to control her like a marionette.”

“That’s how you exorcised Pablo,” Thomas remembered, then winced at the memory. “So you think she’s signed.”

“That would be my guess, yes.”

“I want confirmation,” Thomas said. “If Cyril sent her… Damn it. I need to know.”

“I do have one way of confirming if she’s been signed or not.” Yagi reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a red envelope.

“What’s that?” Thomas peered at the thing.

“A scroll. It’s an ancient Asian form of magic,” Yagi said, pulling an ivory sheet of paper out of the envelope. “Think of it as a sensor, and a sort of booby trap. Get Kate to touch it—have her pick it up, say—and if she’s unsigned, nothing will happen to her.”

Thomas started to reach for it, and Yagi yanked it back.

“If
anyone
who has signed his soul touches it,” Yagi said apologetically, putting it back into his suit jacket, “it will kill him.”

“Oh.” Thomas swallowed, tucking his hands under his folded arms.
Close call.
“So if she’s signed, and she touches it…”

“You want to know for sure,” Yagi reminded him. “This will be proof positive.”

Thomas looked at Kate. She was still sending irritated glances at them, even as she patted a demon on the back. The demon looked startled, then sent her a slow, tentative smile.

“Don’t forget to drink water,” she said. “And everybody gets a stretch break after two hours! Think ergonomics!”

“What if Cyril didn’t sign her?” Thomas asked. “What if someone else did?”

Yagi shrugged. “It’s not really that specific. But if we know she’s definitely signed her soul to someone, I have other spells that might help. Ones I can use on the body,” he clarified.

The body.
Thomas recoiled slightly.

But who else would send a signed soul into his business? And even if it wasn’t Cyril—what other purpose would she have here?

She might be cute. But he wasn’t fucking around here. He couldn’t afford to be blinded by her, and he couldn’t give Cyril any advantages.

“Give me the envelope in something I can touch without killing myself,” Thomas said slowly. “I’ll make sure she gives it a go.”

Yagi nodded with approval, and Thomas motioned to Kate. She walked over.

“We’ve got four names,” she said, giving a sidelong look at Yagi. “It’s going
great
. We keep this up, we’ll have those twelve docs in no time.”

“Yagi, can you give us a second?”

Yagi nodded silently, then stalked off.

“Okay, what the
hell
?” Kate murmured, pouring herself a paper cup of water from the nearby fountain. “What’s his problem?”

“He’s just like that,” Thomas said.

“Well, tell him if he keeps mean-mugging people in Oakland like that, he’s going to get his ass kicked,” she muttered, then took a long draw. “God, I’m parched. I feel like I’ve been trying to sell time-shares. It’s insane.”

“It’s working,” Thomas said, with true approval. “I wanted to thank you. Also, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff I’ve been mulling over.”

“Um, okay.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Not here,” Thomas said. He could just imagine what would happen if she dropped dead in the middle of the demons. “I’d like you to stop by my office after work. Is that okay?”

“Your office. Yeah, sure,” she said, nodding.

He nodded back. “Really good job,” he added inanely.

“And strangely, all without a whip.” Her tone was dry, almost analytic. Hell, she sounded like Yagi.

“I didn’t peg you as an ‘I told you so’ kind of girl.”

“Guess we both misjudged each other,” she said softly.

He grimaced. “We all do what we have to do to get by, right?”

“Better the devil you know,” she said, toasting him with the water. “Okay, my break’s over. I’ll see you after shift. Boss.”

He nodded.

Yeah, he’d see her.

And then see
, he thought regretfully,
if she lives
.

Chapter Nine

Thomas was still brooding in his office when Kate showed up. Yagi had given him the… whatever the hell it was, magic scroll or paper or whatever. It was tucked into an interoffice envelope that was currently sitting on his desk. The thing made him feel nervous, like he was sitting with dynamite sweating nitro.

If I touch that thing, it’ll kill me.

What was worse, if he died, he knew where he was headed, and had a small foretaste of just how painful that would be.

And I could be sentencing Kate to exactly that.

Thomas closed his eyes. He was up against the wall. He only had a year to do what he needed to, and if she had signed her soul, odds were good that she deserved exactly what she was getting.

Just like you, huh?

His eyes popped open when he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he rasped, then cleared his throat.

Kate walked in, looking frazzled. Her wavy red hair had mostly escaped from the ponytail, and her glasses were slightly askew on her face. Her khaki skirt was smudged with dirt and her sweater looked like it had a coffee spill on it. Her eyes, those brilliant emerald eyes of hers, looked exhausted.

“Found five today,” she said, nodding. “Things slowed down a little after lunch.”

“Why? You let them have naps?”

He didn’t know why he found it fascinating, the way her full lips pulled into a stern line of disapproval. She looked like a teacher with a need to discipline. She also went straight around his desk, not sitting across from it, and got into his face. His body tightened as she got closer, even as he grinned at her gumption.

“They needed a break. A lot of them have been working on no sleep.”

Guilt pecked at him. “I know, Kate. It’s been a rough haul, but trust me when I say the work they’re doing—
you’re
doing—is vitally important. Besides, the conditions might be rough, but they’re temporary.”

“You don’t want me to work overnight, do you?” she asked, aghast.

The vision of her, reporting to him alone in his office late at night, suddenly rocked him. She’d have a pencil holding up those red curls in a loose bun, and she’d take off her glasses and maybe shake her hair down, and it would sort of cascade in slow motion…

And I’ll stop myself right there.
He shook his head, trying to shake off the reverie.
She’s an employee. And this isn’t a music video, for Christ’s sake.

She was looking at him like he was some kind of slave driver, and he realized he hadn’t answered. “I’ve had people pull all-nighters, and yes, the guys stay here,” he said, leaning his weight against his desk. “But no, you don’t need to work overnight.”

Kate bit her lip, and he found himself staring at the innocent little gesture. “Why do they stay here?” she finally asked, her voice hesitant.

“They’re a long way from home,” Thomas said. “The other reasons are, well, not illegal… but not something I want to discuss.”

She nodded but didn’t look convinced. She probably thought he was the biggest bastard on the planet. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t bother him—he was used to a lot worse judgment from a lot harsher people, and outside opinion tended to give him a raging case of the fuck-its—but he didn’t like seeing the disappointment in those pretty eyes of hers.

“I didn’t want them to be treated that way initially,” he heard himself say.

“Oh?” She sounded unconvinced. She crossed her arms, refusing to sit down. “So why did you?”

He frowned. “They… hurt some temps.”

Kate’s eyes popped wide. “No way.”

“I need them, because they know the language and because we signed a contract,” Thomas said, keeping as close to the truth as he could. “But they crossed the line. They wanted to act like animals, they got treated like animals.”

She stared at him, then her pale skin went a little paler. He cursed himself. Why was he telling her all this? He’d brought her here to test her, not get on her good side. Or, at this point, scare her.

“I just can’t believe it. Some of them are really sweet…” She swallowed.

“But a few of them aren’t, right?”

She nodded. “I’ve had a bad run-in, yeah, and some of them are a little macho. But Slim’s kept them in line.”

“I’ve made it clear what happens to them if another woman gets hurt on my watch.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Only women, huh?”

Thomas frowned. “Well, anybody,” he amended. “And Al… well, I’m not even going to get into my working relationship with Al. But that’s not why I asked you up here anyway.”

She finally sat down, looking at him curiously. “Why
did
you ask me up here? You said you had questions.”

He’d thought carefully about how he was going to pull this off. He didn’t want her to get suspicious, and saying,
Hey, could you touch this piece of paper?
and then sending her off if she didn’t drop dead in the middle of his office would probably seem a little questionable.

“I wanted to ask you about continuing work when this contract piece is done,” he said instead, leaning back in his chair.

“No.” The word was out of her mouth before he finished his sentence. He quirked an eyebrow at her interruption, and at least she blushed. “I mean— Sorry. I, uh, don’t think I’m cut out for working for a big corporation.”

“That’s such a cop out.”

Now her eyebrows jumped to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Come on. You can handle everything I’ve dished out at you and then some,” he said, forgetting momentarily that this was a ruse. “You’re one of the most competent women I’ve ever met. I think you could not only handle this job—you could knock it out of the park.”

Her hard expression softened. “Really? You think so?”

“I really do.” He sighed. “I think you could be amazing.”

She smiled, and it was like sunlight through honeycomb, warm and bright and sweet. He felt himself straighten in his chair, grinning back at her.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Huh?” He blinked. “Oh. Right. The job. It’d be, uh…”

She stared at him like he was simple, and for a second, he felt it.

Snap out of it. Get in the game.

“Um, it’d be executive assistant.”

“Oh. To whom?”

“To me.”

She stared at him for a second, in shock.

Then she burst out laughing.

He struggled not to feel insulted. “Problem?”

“No, no. It’s just… I don’t know. I think that you’d need someone more…” She gestured at herself, from shoulders to toes. “Together.”

“It’s not the package, it’s the performance,” he said, feeling a little smug. “Although you’re right, there would be certain, ah, image elements that would need to be maintained.”

“Image elements?” She sounded suspicious. “Like what?”

“Wardrobe, for starters,” he said, and saw her face get into that stubborn expression that he perversely enjoyed. It was the enjoyment that flagged him.
Stick to business.
The job offer was the cover. The real issue was tucked in an envelope on his desk. “Well, I just wanted to introduce the concept to you, have you mull it over.”

He took a deep breath, wondering why he was so focused on her—why he was letting himself get so distracted. She was cute, no question. Still, he was around attractive women fairly frequently. He owned a fashion line, a movie studio, had ties to expensive and lavish resorts, hobnobbed with celebutantes. So why did he keep letting himself get sidetracked by Kate? Even his attraction to her didn’t explain his reticence.

The answer hit him like a thunderclap.

He could be going from flirty banter one second to a dead redhead on his floor in the next.

I’m distracting myself because I don’t want to kill her.

“Okay,” Kate said, starting to get up—getting ready to walk away.

He swallowed, hard. Then took a deep breath.

“There’s a job description in the envelope over there,” he heard himself say, like a disembodied voice he barely recognized as his own. “On the corner of the desk.”

She picked up the interoffice envelope. “This?”

“That’s the one,” he drawled. Then held his breath.

She opened the envelope, pulling out the red sleeve. She stared at it, obviously puzzled. “This?” she repeated.

He frowned. Did she need to hold the scroll itself?

“Huh.” He swallowed again, then forced out the words. “What’s in it?”

Her fingers touched the ivory parchment.

He gritted his teeth.

She flipped the page over. “It looks like one of those things from Chinese New Year,” she said, her expression baffled. “Except—is that Japanese?”

He felt like all the breath exploded out of him, and he forced himself to sound calm. “Weird. Must be something of Yagi’s.” It was supposed to sound casual, but it sounded strangled to his own ears.

She held it out to him.

“No!” he barked, then winced at her shocked expression. “I mean, just put it back in the envelope. That job description should be around here somewhere.” He made a big show of going through the mess of folders on his credenza—which, unfortunately, was
not
just there for show—until she got the deadly scroll thing back in the envelope. Then he sighed. “Sorry, I can’t find it. I guess you see now why I need an executive assistant.”

“Seriously,” she agreed, instead of politely demurring. Which didn’t surprise him, now that he thought about it. “How does someone like you, super billionaire guy, manage without an assistant? Travel, meetings, stuff like that?”

“Technically, I have a bunch of assistants,” he said. “Temps that Maggie hires. We’ve got the travel agency. And I know how to use a calendar,” he added.

“And that
works
?”

He smirked at the doubtful surprise in her voice. “More or less.”

Before he knew it, she was standing next to him again. He caught a whiff of her perfume—something sunshiny and floral today.

“At the very least you need a better filing system,” she mused. Then, without warning, she scooped up the folders.

“Hey!”

She scanned the papers, then scooped them up as well. He watched in shock as she sat down in his leather chair.

“This is, like, four months old… These are copies…
This is a
newsletter
… You’ve got a file for this, don’t you, over there,” she muttered, biting her lower lip as her glasses slipped a bit lower on the bridge of her nose. “These can go here, and you’ve got a ‘to read’ folder that’s ready to explode, might want to revisit. Otherwise, these things go here, this goes in interoffice, and
voila
. You’re good.”

She replaced folders in the standing rack, leaving his credenza gleaming.

“Damn,” he murmured. “I’m not kidding. I really, really want to hire you.”

She grinned, looking cocky, her chin up. “Blinded by my mad filing skills. I get that all the time.”

He grinned back. Then, due to some crazy cocktail of relief that she hadn’t died, gratitude at her competence, all piled on top of the stupid, persistent attraction he already felt for her… He leaned forward, framed her face with his hands, and kissed her.

The last thing he consciously registered was a squeak of surprise from her before he just felt the soft, warm heat of her lips under his. It had been a long time since he’d kissed anyone. It had been a favorite pastime, he vaguely remembered, before all this. So there was the comfort of that.

And then there was just
her
. Pure, unadulterated Kate.

She was even better than he’d suspected.

She tasted like chocolate, he realized, just an undercurrent of something sweet and rich. He didn’t mean to deepen the kiss, but he’d already come this far, and the thought of stopping made his whole body shudder in protest.

He figured she’d either kick the shit out of him or sue him. Right now, he didn’t care. He was going for it.

She sighed, and he realized there was a third option when she smoothed her hands up his shirt, under his jacket, and nestled in.

It was like pushing the launch sequence on a rocket. He wove his hands into her hair, freeing it from the last restraint of the ponytail, feeling it wash like a silk wave over his fingertips. He kissed her harder, ignoring everything else, even the vague, nagging sounds of something…

“Thomas!”

He tore away on a gasp. Kate was pulling his jacket lapels, and she looked dazed, her glasses fogged up.

“What?” he snapped.

Maggie was standing in his doorway, looking scandalized—and hurt.

“You’ve got a call coming from Tokyo,” Maggie said, her voice breaking. Then, after leveling a murderous glare at Kate, she turned on her stiletto heel and stalked out.

I’m going to pay for that one
, he thought, and guilt stabbed at him. He stepped back from Kate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was so inappropriate. I just… You’re really funny, and I like you, and I… Shit. I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “You’re funny, and I like you, too,” she said, then cleared her throat briskly. “And wow, that
was
a mistake, so let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, okay?”

That grated at him, but he nodded. “Good idea. I’ll, uh, be more careful next time.”

“Me, too.”

He smiled. “You’re pretty cool, Kate. Think the job offer over?”

She nodded, even as her eyes said
hell, no
. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.” And she hurried out.

Thomas rubbed his hands over his face.
What the hell was that? What just happened?

Whatever it was, can it happen again? Soon?

Logically, he knew that it was foolish. Probably just some combination of attraction and timing and… Damn it, it had felt really good. There. He’d admitted it.

Still, it would be beyond foolish to pursue it a second time. It would be dangerous. For both of them.

When he moved his hands away, Yagi was standing there, arms crossed, face placid as a mirror-calm lake.

“Well,” Yagi said, “she’s not dead.”