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Pulse (Pulse 1)

Page 10

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I purse my lips considering the proposition.

"No strings?" I ask softly.

"No strings." He nods towards the bed. "Just more of that."

Chapter 8

"So essentially, you two are fuck buddies?" Rebecca whispers from behind her desk in the cubicle where she spends her days working for one of the biggest investment firms in the city.

"I guess." I shrug my shoulders. "I hadn't really labeled it."

"And you're good with him fucking a different woman every night of the week?" She pulls her lips across her teeth in a grimace.

"I'm not going to think about that," I lie. It's all I've thought about since I left Nathan's hotel room last night. Was I really okay with having sex one night a week with a man who was fucking most of Manhattan the other six nights?

"The sex must have been phenomenal for you to agree to that." She rolls her eyes. "I would have just taken what I got and ended it."

"I haven't even decided if I'm going back." Lie number two. I was already craving his touch again and the thought of waiting almost a week to feel his body inside of mine was causing withdrawal. I had to make myself come in the shower this morning just to find the focus I needed for this meeting with Cassandra, Rebecca's boss.

"You can go in now." Rebecca glances at the clock on the wall above her desk. "It's eleven. She should be ready for you."

I scoop up the plate of coconut macaroons I brought with me and knock tentatively on the door to Cassandra's office.

"Come in," she calls from behind the door and I take a steely breath before I turn the knob. Grabbing this job would make my entire life better at this point.

"Hi," I say meekly as I step into her office. I realize that I don't know if I should call her by her first name or Ms. Saunders. We've only met once, very briefly, a few months ago when I was in New York with Josh visiting Rebecca.

"Jess. It's great to see you again." She motions for me to sit in one of the luxurious leather chairs in front of her desk. "You brought me treats?" The wicked smile that crosses her lips makes my heart leap. Maybe Rebecca was right when she said the way to her heart was through her stomach. It was hard to picture given the fact that Cassandra was tall, graceful and could easily have passed for a model.

"Coconut macaroons." I place the small plate down in front of her on the desk.

She picks one up and admires it before popping it into her mouth. "You're hired," she sighs.

I pull my hand to my mouth. "You're kidding, right?"

"With food I never kid." She playfully points her index finger at me. "You're an amazing cook. Rebecca can't shut up about how great your food is."

I laugh at the backhanded compliment. "Cooking is my passion."

"You didn't study it?" The question was expected but I still feel my stomach lurch. This is the point in the interview where I always lose the job. I can't lose this one. Being a private chef was just the right foot in the door I needed. With a good wage I could start saving for culinary school.

"I took a different path and then realized that I couldn't stay out of the kitchen." I want desperately to skirt over the issue. I know I'm a great cook. I know I can do the job. I just need a chance.

"What did you do back in Connecticut?" she asks before devouring another macaroon.

"I was a paramedic."

Her brow shoots up. "So you have medical training and you can cook?"

"I know," I chuckle. "It's perfect for those rare occasions when someone chokes on my cooking."

She laughs. "It's actually perfect for my situation."

"How so?" I feel I'm making headway. This is the first time I've be

en in an interview about a position in the industry when anyone has thought my EMT training was a plus.

"I need a cook mainly for my two kids." She motions to a framed picture on her desk of two small children. "They have a nanny, but she burns water."



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