My Man Pendleton Read Online Free PDF Page B

sipped his drink and tried not to gag. God, he hated Bourbon. "What's there to tell?"
    "You big-wheeling corporate types," she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Always so unwilling to talk about yourselves. Why is that, I wonder? Is it because you have absolutely no life outside the workplace? And because having to talk about yourself would just make you face the fact once and for all that, gosh, your life is just a big fat zero when it comes to leisurely enjoyment?"
    Pendleton pretended to consider the suggestion as he sipped his drink again, then he shook his head slowly as he swallowed. "Nah. I'm pretty sure that's not it."
    She shifted her weight to one foot and eyed him speculatively. "Okay, fine," she said. "Then let me just give you a little quiz I developed to better understand the people who work for my father."
    "Oh, now wait a minute," he interjected, feigning concern. "No one told me there was going to be a test. I didn't have a chance to study."
    "Oh, don't worry," she cooed. "I'll take it easy on you. Only multiple choice and true or false."
    "I don't know," he hedged. "I was never very good at pop quizzes. Will there be math?"
    "Maybe for extra credit. Question number one," she continued before he had a chance to stop her. "I, Pendleton, received my MBA from (A) Harvard, (B) Stanford, or (C) Bob's
School
of
Big Business
."
    He felt a smile threatening, so quickly bit it back as he replied, "A."
    She nodded. "Question number two. I've always envisioned myself (A) as the ruthless, sadistic CEO of my own corporation, (B) retiring before I turn forty to sail around the world, or (C) following Jerry Springer's lead and hosting my own daytime talk show so I can meet lots of dysfunctional strippers with big hooters."
    He gave some serious thought to that one, then replied, "D."
    She narrowed her eyes. "D?"
    "All of the above."
    She considered his response, then evidently de cided to allow him credit. "Okay. Final multiple choice, then we'll move on to the true or false portion of our exam. "
    Pendleton filled his mouth with a generous, fortifying sip of his drink, remembered belatedly that it was Bourbon, and somehow managed not to spit the entire mouthful on his examiner. "Shoot," he managed after swallowing, the word a bit strangled.
    Kit smiled coquettishly, and for the briefest of moments, something inside Pendleton went zing.
    "If I could be anywhere in the world right at this moment," she said, "I'd like to be (A) at home watching Xena Warrior Princess and hoping it was an episode where she got wet at least once, (B) in the eye of a hurricane on a kayak with a broken paddle, or (C) why, right here with you, Miss McClellan—where else would I want to be?"
    "Oh, now that's an easy one," Pendleton said smoothly. "I wouldn't think of insulting your intelligence by even bothering to answer that one."
    She tilted her head to the side and eyed him with much interest, but gave no hint as to what she might be thinking. Instead, she straightened again and quickly launched into part two of what he supposed was the KMAT—the Kit McClellan Aptitude Test.
    "True or false," she began. "I only receive the
Victoria
's Secret catalog by accident—I have never actually ordered anything from it."
    "True."
    She nodded, though whether she believed him, he couldn't have said.
    "True or false," she went on. "When I'm flipping through my
Victoria
's Secret catalog, I always look at the faces of the models, too."
    He started to fudge a bit on that one, then decided, What the hell, and told the truth. "Mmm … false."
    She actually did chuckle at that one. But all she said was, "Final question. True or false. If given a choice between spending an evening with Mahatma Gandhi and Golda Meir, or two
Victoria
's Secret models, I would choose the models."
    He didn't have to think about that one at all. "Absolutely true."
    Kit smiled at him again before turning toward her father, who had moved to the other side of the room, where