Sinful Rewards 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’m addressing and meet his gaze. Does he need to speak with me again? I smile. Has he noticed my commitment?
    Mr. Peterson’s gaze shifts to my lazy coworker, and I slump in my seat. He plans to talk to Dru. He should save his breath. Her last day is on Friday, and there’s no need for her to work hard now. I’ve almost completed both of our lists.
    â€œGreg wants me.” Dru smirks at me and struts into Mr. Peterson’s office, her hips swaying. As she turns to close the door, she unbuttons her blouse, revealing a red lace bra and gravity-defying curves.
    Dru can flash him all the skin she wants. Good managers value hard work, not big breasts. They also follow the rules they uphold. I have faith in Mr. Peterson’s integrity. He’s my boss. He won’t let me down.
    At four thirty, my phone rings, the sound echoing in the closed drawer. I remove the phone and peer down at the display. The caller is unknown. I frown. It might be a telemarketer.
    â€œBee Carter,” I cautiously answer.
    â€œI’ll be there in twenty minutes to retrieve the phone.” The voice is curt, undeniably male, and vaguely familiar. “Wait on the corner of Michigan and Huron.” There’s a click followed by silence.
    I stare at the small screen. Who pissed in his cornflakes? I did Nicolas a favor by retrieving his phone, by keeping it safe for him, and this man, whoever he is, treats me like the hired help. I press my lips together, tempted to ignore his instructions.
    I won’t ignore them because Nicolas needs his phone, but I also won’t be nice to the arrogant jerk. My handwriting becomes sharper, the characters jagged, spaced closer together. The clock on the far wall ticks, the hour hand creeping toward five o’clock.
    My boss’s door remains closed. I stand, considering my options. Dru is making trouble for me, I know she is, and if I wait, work late, I can manage this trouble and prove to Mr. Peterson that I’m the diligent employee he wants.
    But work late doing what? I finished the reminder notices. There’s nothing left to address. I also have an irate mystery man to meet. Nicolas, my future husband, requires his phone.
    I put the completed notices in the outgoing mail bin, place the supplies in my desk, and sweep over the surfaces with a disinfectant wipe. If Dru was here, she’d ridicule me, calling me a good little waitress. She doesn’t care that her disgusting mess of a desk might attract rats and other rodents, leading to a horrific infestation and possibly the zombie apocalypse.
    No one will die on my watch. I remove my purse. The strap is now held together by three flimsy threads, and I feel like even more of a dumb ass for not selling the phone for cold, hard cash. If I had caved to temptation, I’d have a new purse and I wouldn’t have to deal with a grumpy, ungrateful stranger. Damn my ethics.
    I stalk through the office, mumbling good-byes to coworkers as I leave. Susan remains at her desk, surrounded by impatient deliverymen, the blonde appearing as harried as usual. My friend unfortunately won’t receive any help from me. She doesn’t report to my boss.
    I walk toward the designated meeting spot, my heels clicking on the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful summer day, and the tattooed hunk in three eleven north is likely still naked. This thought shouldn’t excite me as much as it does. He’s not a man I should develop an interest in. He’s one-night-stand material and I’m a living, breathing example of how badly a one-night stand can end.
    A trickle of moisture drips down my spine, sliding between my ass cheeks. I won’t relive my mom’s life. If a man’s not interested in marriage, I’m not interested in him. I reach the corner seven minutes early and watch the cars creep along the street, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to recognize the man I’m meeting.

Chapter Three
    A T EXACTLY