Ms. Bravo And The Boss. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ hour for lunch.”

      He scowled as he continued to stroke his rocklike jaw. Apparently, in his world, typists shouldn’t be allowed to waste precious time on food. But then he conceded, “All right. An hour. But you’ll need to be flexible as to which hour. If the story’s flowing, you might have to wait a while to eat.”

      “Even with regular five-minute breaks, there have to be limits. No more than five hours at a stretch without an hour-long break.”

      A grunt of disapproval escaped him. But then he agreed, “Five hours. All right. The work will be intense and you’ll need to roll with that. I have to get a book out fast and I’ll need you when I need you—which will be ten to twelve hours a day. You will have to live here and you will work six days a week, with Sundays off.”

      Live here in his house? God, it sounded awful. But in the end, it was all about the money. If the money was good enough, she could bear a whole boatload of awful.

      And wait. What about Mr. Wiggles? He would have to come with her. “I have a cat. My cat will be moving in with me.”

      Dead silence from Walsh. He stopped stroking his jaw and moved to the windows. For several seconds, he stared out at the mountains.

      It appeared that Mr. Wiggles was going to be a deal-killer. Well, so be it. She’d barely gotten the big sweetie out alive during the fire. If she had to live with this strange, grumpy man, Wigs was coming with her. Or she wouldn’t come at all.

      Jed turned those intense eyes on her again. “Fine. Bring the damn cat.” She felt equal parts triumphant that she’d won her demand and let down that she was one step closer to being Jed Walsh’s typing slave for she still didn’t know how long. She was about to ask him how long the job would last when he said flatly, “Unfortunately, I find you sexually attractive. That could be a problem.” Did he actually just say that? Another of those odd shivers swept through her as he added thoughtfully, “But then there’s the cat. I hate cats. That should help.” Frowning, he kept those cold eyes steadily on her. “You’re thinking I shouldn’t have told you that I’m attracted to you. But I think it’s better if we’re on the same page.”

      She probably shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t resist. “What page is that, Jed?”

      He didn’t miss a beat. “The one where you know that I’m aware of you as a woman, but we both know that work is the focus here and we will be keeping it strictly professional.”

      Elise said nothing. Really, what was there to say? The less the better, clearly. She shouldn’t be flattered. But she was, a little. Apparently the extra pounds she’d put on since the fire didn’t look so bad on her, after all.

      “My deadline is November first and it will not be extended.”

      “Four and a half months.” She mentally calculated the money that might be hers.

      “It’s likely you’ll be finished by mid-October, but I need you to commit till November first, just in case I run into trouble. I do most of my rewriting while composing the first draft of the manuscript. So essentially, the book is finished when I get to the last page. Then I clean it up, but that I usually can do on my own in a couple of weeks, max."

      "All right. Four to four and a half months, then."

      "Yes. If you last, the position will become permanent. It’s a grind when I’m on a project. But as I said, I type my own rewrites, so as soon as I’ve made it to the end of the first draft, I probably won’t need you until I start the next book. You’ll have weeks and sometimes months off at a time between books.”

      Elise thought of all those thousands he supposedly would pay. She could almost let him think she might be willing to type his novels long-term to get a chance at that money.

      But she wasn’t willing, no way. And it was only right to let him know up front. “I’m sorry, Jed. If we can come to terms, I’ll do this one project. But as of November first, I’ll be moving on.”

      His scowl deepened. “I pay well.”

      “So I’ve heard.”

      “If you work out, I’ll need you to stay on.”

      “Sorry, not happening. I’m done the first of November. If you can’t accept that, then—”

      He cut her off with a grunting sound. “All right. Have it your way. Even if you make it through the trial period, you’re done when I finish this book. If it turns out we work well together, I’m not gonna like it, but I need someone ASAP. Let’s move on to the money. You’ll be an independent contractor. You pay your own insurance and deal with your own taxes.”

      “Not a problem if the money’s right.”

      “Three thousand a week.”

      Amazing! When this ordeal was over, she could have enough to get Bravo Catering up and running again. Her heart raced in excitement and her palms started sweating at the prospect. But really, why stop there?

      She wiped all signs of greedy glee from her face and manufactured a serene smile. “Four thousand a week.”

      His cold stare went subzero. She was dead certain they were done here and she knew a moment of stark regret. No, she didn’t want to sit in a chair all day typing her fingers to the bone, but she did want that money.

      And then at last, wonder of wonders, he nodded. “All right. Four.” She was just breaking into her mental happy dance when he added, “If you last. We’ll start with a three-day trial at five hundred a day.”

      She opened her mouth to shout out a yes. But some contrary creature within her spoke up first. “I’ll have my own room, correct?”

      He looked down his blade of a nose at her. “Of course.”

      “Just to be clear, I will need my own bathroom, en suite.”

      “There are six bedrooms in this house.” He was wearing his bored face again. “Each has its own bath.”

      “I want to see the one where I’ll be staying, please.”

      He asked wearily, “Would you prefer the ground floor or upstairs?”

      Choices. She loved those. Lately, there had been so few. “Where is your room?”

      Green eyes narrowed. “And that matters, why?”

      “I need my space.”

      He made a humphing sound. “I have half of the upper floor.”

      “Ground floor, then.” She really did need a place to go where he wasn’t. “Show me, please.”

      Jed’s expression asked why she insisted on wasting his precious time. But all he said was, “Follow me.”

      She rose and went after him, back through the great room and down another hallway. He stopped at a door and pushed it inward.

      The room on the other side was larger than her apartment over the donut shop. It had a king-size bed and its own sitting area, with a big-screen TV above the modern gas fireplace. The wide windows revealed another СКАЧАТЬ