Read Online Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) by Gretchen Galway - Free Book Online Page B

she showed up on time. None of the other freelancers had managed to reach that zenith of achievement.
    The art room was empty when he walked in. Rita would come later, but he’d hoped to see April. Well, of course he’d hoped to see April.
    It was good she wasn’t there.
    He looked at his watch. Why was she late? It was already 8:12 a.m. He’d noticed in the five days they worked together, she always walked into the office at 8:03 a.m., because of her train from Oakland, she’d said.
    With an irritated sigh at himself, he sat down and opened his laptop to go through the morning email before he packed up his things. Nobody would be upstairs yet, anyway, and he’d want to tell Rita personally how much he’d appreciated her time and space.
    “Welcome back,” April said, walking past him to her desk.
    His pulse kicked up.   He sat up taller, sucking in his gut.
    Oh, man . Still had a thing for her, it seemed. He’d thought it would’ve faded by now. Unable to resist, he turned to look at her. She wore all black, which was corporate enough, but the pants were tight and stretchy, like a yoga instructor’s, and her shirt was sleeveless. Her hair seemed about four inches shorter, maybe more, yet somehow covered more of her face. It was as if the hair in the back had rotated to the front.
    “Morning,” he said. “Haircut?”
    “I don’t want to talk about it.” Scowling, she plopped down in her chair and hit the power button on her computer. “I look like a stuffed animal.”
    He scanned the email in his inbox for a few seconds, deleting as many as possible and sorting the others into their action categories before asking, “Which one?”
    “What?” She frowned at him from under her bangs. Her lipstick was red today, red and shiny, and it made her lips look full, ripe, and wet.
    The room was too warm. California was too warm. He swallowed. “What kind of animal?”
    “Hell if I know. Something too damn fluffy.” She batted at the brown, bouncy curls on her head.
    He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Most women seemed to have straight hair these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman their age (he’d enthusiastically accepted they shared the same general one) with short, curly hair.
    Realizing he’d been staring, he said, “You could wear a hat.”
    Her scowl deepened. “Thanks for the tip.”
    “Sorry,” he said, turning back to his laptop. He wasn’t trying to seduce her, but he could’ve managed something more tactful. The problem was, he was fighting the urge to say I like it. It makes me want to touch you , which would’ve been all wrong for several reasons. “Speaking of your hair, I’ll be getting out of it today.”
    “Oh,” she said. “You are?”
    Did he imagine the disappointment in her voice? “I figured you’d be glad.”
    “Nope. It’s been a great way for me as the new chick to make friends with people.” She grinned. “They all want to know about you.”
    “Then why do they look so unhappy to see me?”
    “They’re afraid of losing their jobs,” she said.
    “Tell them I’m not a hatchet man. That’s not what I do.”
    She studied him. “Honestly?”
    “The last company I worked for didn’t fire a single person after I made my recommendations.”
    “Yeah, but what were those recommendations ?” She said it as if it were a disease.
    He turned back to his laptop. “I didn’t tell them to lay anyone off. Quite the opposite.” Squinting at his screen, he dragged a few emails into his spam folder. “But, as it happens, they didn’t agree with my assessment to cut the boss’s salary and hire more entry-level admin.”
    With a laugh, she brushed the hair out of her eyes. “You said that?”
    “The organization was as top-heavy as a three-scoop ice cream cone.” He’d come up with that metaphor when he’d written the report. They seemed to have enjoyed it less than he had.
    “You don’t think that’s good?”
    “Why do you