Tempting the Billionaire Read Online Free PDF Page A

glance, and she swore parts of her tingled wherever his golden eyes touched. “Those sound like valid reasons to change careers.”
    “They do?” she couldn’t help asking. She’d been so used to defending herself, it was a little off-putting to hear him agree.
    “Yes. And I’m going to offer you the job.”
    She blinked. “Just like that?”
    “Just like that.”
    Crickitt twisted the handle of her bag, waiting for the catch. Or for the other shoe to drop…maybe both of them. It was too perfect, unless— “I’m sorry to be forward, but we should discuss salary.”
    Shane nodded. “Okay.”
    According to a book she’d read on negotiation, he who speaks first, loses. They sat for a moment in silence. Evidently, Shane had read the same book.
    “We tossed around the idea of six figures on Saturday night,” she said, her heart lodged somewhere between her sternum and her throat.
    “I remember.”
    “I’m not sure what you typically pay, but PAs, even in a starting position, can earn up to—”
    Holding up one hand to halt her, he clicked an expensive-looking ink pen with the other. He scribbled a figure onto the bottom of her résumé and slid it across his desk. She took the paper, read the number, and nearly did a face-plant onto his shining office floor.
    “Plus bonuses,” he said.
    She stared at the commas on the paper. Oh, how she wanted to sign paychecks with that many zeroes again. But that many zeroes would come at a cost. They always did. Standing abruptly, she returned the sheet to him, warning bells clanging in her head. She hoped she wouldn’t regret this, but chances were if she gave him the impulsive yes! dangling on her tongue, she’d live to regret it even more.
    Righting her bag on her shoulder, she leveled with him. “I’m going to have to say no,” she said, extending her hand.
    “Something wrong?”
    “If this is what you’re paying”—she gestured to the exorbitant amount written on the paper—“you probably expect me to work eighty or ninety hours a week. Pick up your dry cleaning. Shine your shoes.” She thought about adding her mother’s favorite phrase about not falling off the turnip truck yesterday, but decided against it.
    Shane’s eyebrows lifted. “Shine my shoes?”
    Crickitt turned for the door. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you.”
    “Wait,” Shane said, and Crickitt’s hand froze on the knob.
    *  *  *
    “I’m sorry, you did what?” Sadie asked over the phone as Crickitt exited August Industries.
    “I turned him down.”
    “Yes, I heard that,” she said flatly. “What I don’t understand is why. That is the closest you’ll ever come to your previous income in a starting position.”
    “What I don’t understand,” Crickitt said, remotely unlocking her car and sliding into the driver’s seat, “is why I let him talk me into dinner.”
    Sadie fell silent for a moment. “Like a date?”
    “He called it a second interview.”
    “So, a date.”
    “It’s tonight at seven,” Crickitt said, refusing to entertain the distracting, slightly exhilarating thought.
    “We should double. I have a date, too.”
    “You do?”
    “With his cousin.”
    “Really?”
    To the best of Crickitt’s knowledge, if Sadie ever took a guy home from a club, she rarely saw him again. Ever since her fiancé opted to marry her sister, Sadie made it a point not to get too attached.
    “Yeah,” Sadie snorted. “I know.”
    “You like this guy.”
    “He’s okay,” she said, but some of the gruff edge left her voice. “Hey! Let’s get ready for our dates together.”
    “How very preteen of you.”
    Four hours later, Crickitt opened her front door to find Sadie waggling a bottle in one hand. “Red wine.” She held up a brown bag by the handles. “Margarita mix and champagne.”
    “Champagne?” Crickitt shut the door behind her.
    Sadie was dressed skimpily for the warm summer weather in a denim miniskirt and pale pink tank covered with pink rhinestones.