Temping is Hell (7 page)

“No, I’m not kidding. This looks like something… Shit. Can’t remember.” Prue tilted her head. “Can I take this?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll send it to Nan Temper. I get the feeling it’s something mystic,” Prue said.

Kate glanced at her phone, winced. “Crap. I’ve gotta go.” She gave Prue a quick hug. “Thanks. I needed a night out.”

“Love you,
chica
,” Prue said easily, but her dark eyes were worried. “Come by the shop this week, ’kay? I’ll give you a reading.”

“Sure.”

“Oh, and Kate?”

Kate turned. “Yeah?”

“What are you going to do if they still get punished?” Prue asked.

Kate’s stomach dropped, but she squared her shoulders.

“I’m going out with Tadpole, of all damned things,” she muttered. “Trust me. I’ll do whatever I have to, to make sure that
doesn’t
happen.”

Chapter Five

True to his word, Tadpole had come through, or claimed to. She’d hoped to pick up the program and a scanner at his house and put off the date indefinitely. Instead, he’d arranged it like a prisoner exchange. He’d give her the stuff
at
the date.

Blocked, she’d had no choice but to agree. She met him at Jack London Square, thinking they’d go someplace casual, like Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles. Instead, he met her in the center of the square, then ushered her to Yoshi’s, the chic sushi bar/jazz club that had been an institution in Oakland.

“Here? Really?” Kate said, her voice weak.

Tad winked at her, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back. He was newly showered, his hair gelled into submission. He was also wearing a dress shirt that still held creases from being in the plastic package. He wore his usual sneakers, but otherwise he’d made a serious effort.

Oh, God. He really thinks this is a date.

She was wearing slacks, at least, and a definite, non-date sort of gray sweater. She pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Did you bring the stuff?” she asked.

He looked hurt for a second, and she winced. “Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You can get it after dinner, okay? Can you at least try to pretend like you’re having a good time?”

She sighed.
Save me from nerds in love
. She’d been one once herself—but let’s face it, it was different for girl nerds.

She let him open the door for her, tried to look suitably impressed when he gave their name and the waitress led them to their table. There wasn’t a concert, at least, although the buzz of chatter around them was still pretty loud.

She did love sushi. That said, she was way too broke to pay for it.

At least one good thing will come from this date
, she thought.

“So what’s it like working at the Evil Empire?” Tad asked, opening the menu. She noticed him glancing over the prices and frowning.

“Could be worse,” she said, then grinned a little, thinking of her conversation with Thomas. It seemed like forever ago. Her cheeks warmed, and her stomach jittered.

And that was just
thinking
of the guy. Ridiculous.

“So… how’s the eBay thing coming along?” she asked Tad quickly.

He puffed with pride and killed the next twenty minutes talking about his mint-in-the-box Star Wars figure enterprise, and how much money he was making. She let him ramble, forcing herself not to look at her cell phone to check the time.

Finally, when their dinner was served, she took out her chopsticks, lovingly staring at the sashimi.
Mmmmm
. “So, was the scanner thingy difficult?” she asked, when she thought it was safe.

“Pfft,” he said, preening a little. “Utter child’s play. Did you say they had people looking for this, piece by piece?” He sounded shocked, and disgusted.

“I know,” she commiserated.

“Epic stupidity. I don’t know how they’re making so much money if they’re doing bonehead stuff like that.”

“Oh, they manage,” she said, then frowned. Maybe that’s how Thomas had made so much money at such a relatively young age. He wouldn’t be the first hot guy with absolutely no scruples. Maybe she needed to do a little more research on Fiendish.

Maybe her people judge-o-meter needed to be recalibrated.

“Let’s not talk shop, Kate,” Tad said, and to her surprise, he reached out and grasped her free hand. She dropped a fat slice of tuna in shock. “I’m really, really glad you agreed to go out with me.”

She hadn’t really agreed so much as was extorted, but now probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up. “Um… well, I appreciate you writing the program and getting it to work,” she said. “The fact that you’re willing to throw in dinner on top of, um, helping me with my work is a huge favor.”

He frowned. She tried to tug her hand away, but he tightened his grip. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to dinner for years,” he said, his voice low and hard to hear over the jazzy vibe in the restaurant. “I just didn’t have the opportunity. Now that I have… I’ve got a lot to say.”

She pressed against the rounded back of her chair, almost tipping it over. “Octopus?” she said, offering him a piece, praying that he’d be disgusted enough to give her some space.

“No, thanks,” he mumbled, looking into her eyes like he was trying to hypnotize her. “Kate… I think you know how much I like you.”

“Um.” She felt like a butterfly on a T-pin, writhing in agony. “You’re a good guy. A good friend—”

“Don’t, Kate. Don’t put me in the friend zone,” he interrupted, scowling. “I’d rather be an asshole than a ‘good friend.’ You might as well say eunuch.”

“If you don’t let go of my hand,” Kate said, as his grip increased to painful pressure, “I’ll be calling you ‘asshole’ in a second, Tadpole.”

“Why won’t you even give me a damned
chance
?”

“Let go of me,” she repeated slowly, starting to feel a little nervous. Tad was persistent and annoying—but she’d never felt afraid of him before. There was something off about him tonight, something edgy and unlike him.

“I think about you a lot,” he growled. “Ever since I started working with that thing you gave me, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

She stared at him, aghast.
Has he been drinking or something?

“Is everything all right here?” a new voice intoned. She glanced over… then gaped. Thomas Kestrel. Standing there in one of his trademark dark suits, with a snowy white shirt and a tie the color of blood-red roses. He looked at her, eyes full of concern. “Hey, Kate,” he murmured.

She couldn’t help it—she flushed. The guy’s drawl was like being drizzled with honey. Then licked.

Tad, of course, noticed.

“It’s between me and my girlfriend,” Tad said sharply… then got up, moving in like a missile.

“Gack!” she protested, just before his thin lips locked onto hers.

…

Of all the jazz joints in all the sushi restaurants in all the world
, Thomas thought, shaking his head with a combination of resignation and disgust as he watched the skinny, ugly guy paw Kate.
Why did she have to walk into this one?

Going to Yoshi’s had been his client’s idea, and given its proximity to his condo in the Havens, Thomas had thought it was a great one. He was looking forward to calling it an early night and getting more work done back at the suite.

He was really surprised to see the red-haired temp Kate—and even more surprised to realize he was pleased when he recognized her.

She was on a date, he noticed immediately. Though if her body language was any indication, she was none too comfortable with it. That probably shouldn’t amuse him, but it did. Her date was wearing a shirt whose collar bulged out with the tag he’d forgotten to remove. The kid was socially awkward and apparently tried to make up for it by being way too aggressive.

And now, the kid was on Kate like a flea on a dog.

If Thomas were a hundred percent sure of Kate’s response, he’d have dragged the kid off and shown him the door. A good part of him still wanted to—which, he admitted, was strange.

Just protective, maybe.
His mama would turn in her grave if she knew he’d pushed himself on a woman, or stood idly by while another man did. Besides, in a roundabout way, Kate was his employee—or the near occasion of his employee, as Yagi might say. Thomas was very, very protective of the people he thought of as his.

She is definitely mine.

With that appealing thought, he moved to step in and stop the boy’s aggression.

Before he could, the boy roared with pain, pulling back, his lower lip bloody. Kate had a drop of blood on her mouth that she wiped off with the cloth napkin.

The host rushed forward, looking concerned.

Kate stood up. “Is the program in there?” she asked the bleeding, shocked looking boy, pointing at a messenger bag on a nearby chair.

“Damn it, Kate…”

“Is it in there?”
she hissed. The boy nodded. “It’s the zebra stripe flash drive. I’m sorry,” he muttered, pressing his napkin to his lip. “I mean, I didn’t—”

“Don’t. Talk. To me.” Her green eyes blazed like a welder’s torch as she pawed through the bag. “And if you follow me, so help me God, I’m pounding you into the pavement.”

“Come on…”

“Just try it.”
She swiped up the drive, stuffed it in her purse, then weaved through the crowded tables at a fast clip. The boy blushed bright as a stoplight.

“But what about the check?” he called after her retreating figure. “You don’t expect me to pay for your dinner if you’re just gonna
leave
!”

Thomas smothered a grin. Then he gestured to his client, indicating he’d be back in a second, and went after Kate. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she spun. He barely managed to miss the swing, a beautiful right hook aimed about her date’s height. Fortunately, Thomas was taller than her date—and he trained, every day, for just such occasions.

“Whoa there, slugger,” he said, holding his hands up. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

She took a deep breath. “I will be,” she growled.

“I take it that was not your boyfriend, then,” he drawled, putting his hands in his pockets.

“He keeps up shit like that, he’s not even going to stay male,” she promised darkly.

Thomas laughed, letting out a low whistle. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Fine,” she said, glaring at him.
“Don’t piss me off.”

He glanced at her. She looked fierce, he thought, with her wild hair and her
don’t fuck with me
expression. He’d always preferred cool, demure women—blondes, like Elizabeth. And he’d never been attracted to a woman who snarled at him. Apparently it had been too long a time since he’d, ah, blown off some steam.

But damn, she did look good.

“Consider me warned.” He nodded at her purse. “So what’s with the flash drive?”

He could see her freeze, the sudden tension.
Wonder what that’s about?

“Extra-curricular project,” she said.

“You’re in school?”

“No.”

He stared at her. “Okay,” he said, waiting for her to expand on it. She didn’t.

“Right. See you at work,” she said, then turned, heading for the parking garage.

“Say, Kate?”

She turned, her hip tilted, glancing over her shoulder like a pin-up model. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad he’s not your boyfriend.”

She stared at him. Hell, he would’ve stared at himself if he could have. The words popped out before he could stop them, and he frowned.

She sent him a slow, almost shy smile that did more for his libido than Maggie’s full naked displays. He was surprised by the punch of it, momentarily rooted to the spot.

Then she took two steps… and walked smack into a parking sign.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” she said, waving him off when he went to help. She sounded flustered, and her pretty cream cheeks had blushed pink.

His smile broadened as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was a good feeling.

“See you tomorrow,” she repeated, then moved with the furious haste of someone embarrassed.

Thomas was still grinning when he walked back into the restaurant.

“What was that all about?” his dinner guest, Mr. Harlow Frederickson, asked with amusement.

“Just a friend,” Thomas said, not wanting to go into details. The boy had gone, at least. And besides, Thomas was pretty sure Kate could handle him if he was stupid enough to go after her. “So. Shall we talk about the details of the merger? I’d love to add your advertising agency to Fiendish Enterprises.”

“Sure. Although I bumped into a friend, too, while you were outside,” Harlow said, gesturing to someone else. Still buzzing from his weird little exchange with Kate, Thomas looked over… and his heart stilled in his chest. It felt like his whole body had been dropped in a vat of liquid nitrogen.

Harlow was oblivious. “Thomas, I’d like you to meet Cyril. Cyril Roman.” The man was tall, thin, his hair a pale corn-silk blond. He smiled, holding out his hand.

Thomas stared at it. Yup. Even the scar was still there, just over the wrist.

“Nice to see you again, Thomas,” Cyril said, barely contained mirth in his voice.

“Oh, do you two know each other?” Harlow said, sounding delighted.

Thomas ignored the proffered hand. “I didn’t realize
you two
knew each other,” he said instead, frowning at Harlow.

“Fairly recent acquaintance,” Harlow said, “but we’re becoming fast friends.”

“We’re working on a deal of sorts, too,” Cyril said. “I was a little disappointed that you hadn’t stopped by, Thomas, now that you’ve moved into my neighborhood, as it were. Maybe we could schedule a lunch or something. Catch up. It’s been, what, seven years since we’ve had a decent conversation?”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “I was too busy trying to stab you three years ago,” he agreed. “So yeah, seven sounds about right.”

Harlow’s eyes widened. Then he let out a nervous crack of laughter. “Guess you two have history.”

“You could say that,” Thomas said, his voice tight as he glared at the man who had given him the contract—and was even now waiting to take his company
and
his soul.

Number thirteen
, Thomas thought, the dagger hidden in his suit jacket almost burning him.
If I could just…

But it wouldn’t work. He’d tried before. Killing Cyril without killing the twelve people who had agreed to protect him—the twelve powerful souls who had signed on to be psychic bodyguards—simply wouldn’t work.

Until he killed the protectorate, Cyril was untouchable.

Revenge would have to wait.

Cyril grinned impudently. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner. You call me, boy, y’hear?” His drawl was warm, even though his gaze was icy and amused. “After all, you know just where I am, don’t you? And I obviously know how to get to you.”

With that, and a tip of an imaginary hat, he left.

“Wow,” Harlow said, still forcing a chuckle. “What was that all ab—”