That Kind of Girl (Fillmore & Greenwich Book 2) by Kate Perry Page B

signed when you started working here. In section C-12 it states that you acknowledge that you forfeit the proceeds on any sales brought in by you after you're no longer with the company."
    She flipped to the section he'd mentioned. She scanned the small print, her stomach sinking even lower. She hadn't known that losing hope felt like drowning. "But California law—"
    "Applies unless there's a different employee-employer agreement," he said not unkindly. "I'm sorry. Maybe you should have all your contracts read by a lawyer from now on."
    She shoved the contract back at him. "How can you be so hot and yet so douchey at the same time?"
    He tipped his head. "You still think I'm hot after all this?"
    "But mostly douchey." She glared at him.
    "I think you're hot, too," he said as if impervious to her death stare. "If you're wondering."
    She lifted her chin. "I wasn't."
    "But it's nice to know, right?"
    It was, and that made it all even worse. She stomped her foot. "It wasn't supposed to go this way. I wore my power suit."
    He nodded sympathetically. "It looks great on you, too."
    "Don't be an ass."
    "I thought it was nice to compliment a woman," he said.
    "Not when you're shooting all her dreams to hell."
    He actually looked abashed at that. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could do something. It's not right that they fired you just because you were earning out. They never expected anyone to make it."
    "So what are you going to do about it?" she asked, standing toe to toe with him. "Nothing, right? You're going to let the next person go through the same thing, because you work for the man. The man owns you."
    "You worked for the man."
    "And the man screwed me over!" she exclaimed. She poked him in the chest. "He's going to screw you over, too."
    "Probably," he replied cheerily.
    "This isn't the last you've heard of me." Storming out of his office, she said over her shoulder, "I'll be back."
    "Call me crazy," he called after her, "but I'm looking forward to it."

 

     
    George stood outside the garage, staring at the tarp that covered the entire façade.
    The scaffolding had gone up the morning after Fabio had first come by, and then the entire building had been mummified. The only thing that could be seen was the garage door. Otherwise, nothing was visible from any angle, even down below.
    George had no idea if anything was going on under the tarp. It'd been days, but she hadn't seen any sign of anyone.
    Maybe she should peek.
    She looked around, wondering if Fabio would have rigged a camera to catch her.
    "Are you casing the joint?" a masculine voice asked from behind.
    She jumped, whirling to find Pete, in all his fireman's glory, smiling at her in humor.
    "Because I happen to know the owner doesn't have a security system," he continued.
    She rolled her eyes. "I don't have anything to steal."
    "But security systems come with fire monitoring," he said. "I know you have fire hazards in there."
    He really took his job seriously. "I kind of hope that the fire station across the street will get to me in time if anything happens."
    "Well, there's that, too. Are you having it painted?"
    "Sort of." She faced him. "How's it going?"
    He sobered. "Did you hear about Dolores?"
    "Aw jeez." She'd forgotten how close Pete and Dolores had been. She touched his arm. "You okay?"
    "I can't believe it," he said, his eyes moist. "We'd just gone out last week. You know she and I went to the opera together."
    "I didn't know you were into opera," she said, looking at him in a new light.
    "I wasn't." He grinned crookedly. "Dolores loved it. I went with her to keep her company, because it made her happy. Somehow she taught me to love it, too."
    George smiled sadly. "She was probably parading you around to find you a wife."
    "God, she loved to matchmake." He laughed. "No one escaped her clutches."
    "She tampered with someone's engine once to have him come see me," she confessed.
    Pete whistled. "I want to think that's urban legend, but it's something she'd