The Negotiator by Chris Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

stupid again.
    “Jack’s fine,” she ground out.
    “I didn’t mean—”
    Without giving him a chance to explain, she fired back at him, “I don’t know if I look like someone who enjoys cleaning toilets, Andy , but I assure you, I don’t. Unfortunately, money doesn’t grow on trees and I have bills to pay.” Twin spots of bright color now stained her cheeks. Her eyes sparked fire.
    He was mortified. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
    “What? That my parenting skills aren’t up to scratch? That I’m an unfit mother? That my son should be home in bed, getting a good night’s sleep?” She was breathing heavily through her anger.
    “No! I only meant—”
    “Forget it,” she interrupted again, shrugging her shoulders as if it no longer mattered. “You don’t know anything about me or my son.”
    “Maybe we could change that?” He spoke without thinking, desperation overcoming his usual reticence. He offered her an uncertain smile, unwilling to let her walk out spitting fire at him.
    Her eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding me? First you insult me and then you ask me out?”
    “Well, I didn’t actually ask you out, but if that’s what you’d like…” He grinned, knowing it was probably going to infuriate her further, but somehow unable to stop himself.
    “Oh! You are simply unbelievable! What I’d like is to finish here, go home and go to bed. Now, if you’re through insulting me, I’d appreciate it if you’d pass me the trash can under your desk so I can empty it and get out of here.”
    He looked down at the overflowing waste basket. If he refused to heed her request, she’d be forced to come in very close proximity. In fact, if he chose to sit back down, she’d very nearly have to put her hand between his legs if she wanted to retrieve it.
    Seeing the tension in her body and noticing, for the first time, the tiny lines of fatigue around her eyes, he relented. It was obvious she’d had a hard day. It was even more obvious she wasn’t in the mood for teasing.
    He leaned forward and picked up the trash can and went to hand it over to her. Their fingers brushed, eliciting a gasp from both of them. Heat sizzled up his arm. She pulled her fingers away as if she’d been burned.
    With her gaze averted, she stumbled away from his desk, reaching out blindly toward her son. “Come on, Jack. Let’s go.”
    She took the boy by the arm and dragged him with her out of the room, leaving Andy looking on, bemused. The overflowing wastepaper basket had been left in his hands, abandoned.
    What the hell had all that been about?

CHAPTER FIVE

    Fingers of morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy white curtains that hung across Cally’s bedroom window. She rolled over and squinted at the alarm clock: six forty-two. She groaned. Her eyes were gritty and tired and her body ached after four nights in a row tossing and turning over her dire financial circumstances and her unease that the man who’d broken into her home might return.
    She buried her head under the pillow in an effort to block out the arrival of the morning, but her heavy thoughts over the past few days refused to leave her. The problem was simple: She needed to earn more money. The difficulty came in how she was going to achieve it.
    While her teaching job paid well, it was only part time. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she taught the third grade and no matter how hard she’d tried to secure teaching employment for the other two days, it hadn’t happened. A few months earlier, the Department of Education had offered her a fulltime job in an outer western Sydney suburb, but it was so far away from their home in Chatswood, she’d have to relocate for it to become viable. She needed to be close to Jack’s school so she could be there to collect him, or at least be at home when he arrived off the bus. Her only other option was to put him in before and after school care.
    She’d looked into the care option when they’d