The Burning Point Read Online Free PDF Page B

"Demolition work is dirty and dangerous, and I won't have my daughter doing it."
    She felt a stab of exasperation, but kept her voice even. "Times have changed, Dad. Women do just about everything but play professional football. I've hung around PDI long enough to know there isn't a job in the company I can't do. Heck, I'm better qualified than Nick, and you're taking him on this summer."
    Her father's jaw tightened. "Your cousin is male, a qualification you'll never have. Be grateful I'm letting you study architecture. Frankly, I don't approve of that, either, but you need something to keep you out of trouble until you get married."
    Kate stopped stock-still in the middle of the dance floor. As other couples hastily changed course to avoid hitting them, she sputtered, "Good God, how Victorian! Since when is a penis required to make calculations and load explosives? I didn't choose architecture as a way of killing time until I trapped a husband--I'm doing it because it's great training for PDI."
    "Watch your tongue, young lady!" His expression changed to that of a tough businessman. "No way in hell will you work for PDI, and I don't ever want to hear about this again. Is that clear enough for you?"
    She stared at her father, her whole body going cold with shock. This couldn't be the end of her dreams--she knew she belonged in the company as surely as that the sun would rise the next day. It was the future she'd craved her whole life. "Working for PDI isn't some whim, Dad," she said, her voice shaking. "I may look like Mother, but at heart I'm like you. I love the crazy mixture of projects, the challenge of getting all the details right, the excitement of a flawless shot. Just give me a chance to prove--"
    "Enough, Kate! The only way you'll work at PDI is over my dead body."
    Her shock transmuted into rage. "Then I'll do demolition somewhere else! PDI may be the best now, but I can learn to be better. And I will! "
    "You will not !" he snapped. "Dammit, I'm your father, and you'll do as I say."
    She jerked away, eyes blazing. "This isn't the nineteenth century, Sam, and my life belongs to me, not you. To hell with you and this damned, artificial ball!"
    She whirled and stormed across the ballroom, colliding with dancers as tears stung her eyes. It was a family joke that she could always persuade her father to give her whatever she wanted, and she hadn't really believed he'd turn her down now. Oh, she'd expected him to huff and puff a little, but she'd been so sure that he'd be secretly proud that she wanted to follow in his footsteps.
    But now he'd issued a public proclamation, and being Sam, he'd never change his mind. Kicking herself for having succumbed to anger, she stalked through the lobby of the theater. Maybe he would have said yes if she'd chosen a better time, or asked differently. Or maybe she shouldn't have mentioned that Tom didn't want to work at PDI. Her brother had quietly made that clear for years, but her father had resisted the truth, as if denial would make Tom's distaste for demolition go away.
    No, a different time wouldn't have helped. In retrospect, she saw how badly she'd underestimated her father's conservatism. He was great in most ways, but at heart he was an old world Italian traditionalist who thought that the measure of a man's success was having women who didn't need to work. He'd indulged her in the past because she'd never really asked for anything that conflicted with his view of the way things ought to be. If she wanted to sit at home and...and do needlepoint until some suitable man married her, he'd be delighted.
    No way, Kate thought. She wanted action. Challenges. She wanted to blow up a ravaged old building in one beautiful, terrifying instant, and do it with such precision that there would be no need to clear the parking lot next door. She was her father's daughter, and by God, she would prove it!
    Ignoring the staring people who'd noticed her fight with Sam, she flung open the front