Read Online One Mad Night by Julia London - Free Book Online Page A

disbelievingly.
    â€œChelsea? What do you have?” He walked around the desk and looked over her shoulder and saw the title of the paper she held. It was a salary chart. “Hey, put that back,” he said reaching for it.
    But Chelsea was too fast for him. She jerked the paper out of his reach and lunged away from him.
    â€œPut it back ,” he said more sternly. The last thing he needed was for her to see how much he made, especially now that they seemed to actually be making some progress with each other. But Chelsea ignored him, her gaze on the chart. “That is none of your business,” he said. He couldn’t imagine a worse breach than to see the private salary of everyone in this office.
    â€œAren’t you the slightest bit curious?”
    â€œOf course I’m curious.” He’d say more than curious. “But you took that without permission from Andrea’s drawer, which is so lacking in integrity that you ought to be fired.”
    â€œPlease, like I don’t know that,” she said dismissively, as if knowing what she was doing was wrong somehow absolved her. “But it’s not like I went looking for it, Ian. It just so happens this is what I found when I was looking for keys, which you have already said was a matter of survival.”
    â€œWhat? I never said—”
    â€œ My salary is on here, you know. So is Zimmerman’s.” She arched a brow, silently daring him to order her to put it back now.
    And much to Ian’s chagrin, he hesitated. He liked hanging out with Zimmerman, but he wasn’t quite sure what he actually did . He never seemed to have any accounts to work on. And Ian was definitely curious what they were paying Chelsea.
    â€œProbably yours too,” she said slyly.
    Ian made a sudden move and tried to snatch it out of her hand. Chelsea jerked it out of his reach again. That was the exact wrong thing to do. Chelsea seemed to know it was, because she suddenly darted out of the office with the chart.
    Ian was quickly behind her, hindered only by Andrea’s desk. By the time he reached the door, Chelsea had disappeared into the sea of cubes.
    â€œDo you really think this is going to work?” he called out, moving stealthily down the aisle and checking each cubicle. “What are we, seven years old? Just put the chart back, Chelsea.”
    She suddenly darted out of Jeff Bower’s cubicle just in front of him. Ian dove for her, making contact with her arm. With a squeal, Chelsea managed to dance beyond his reach and then ran down the aisle.
    She was fast, but she wasn’t as fast as Ian. He caught up to her at the end of the aisle and launched himself at her, crashing with her into the glass wall of the conference room. But when Chelsea cried out as if he’d hurt her, he instantly let go. She jumped again, turned around, and laughed. “Ha!”
    â€œYou don’t play fair,” he said, and with his back to the glass wall, he slid down to the floor.
    â€œNeither do you,” Chelsea said and stood over him, her legs braced apart. “You want to see this chart? Tell me what Jason told you and I’ll give it to you.”
    He couldn’t believe either her incredible perception or her lucky, but accurate, read of him. Not to mention her audacity for using a salary chart like this. He pretended to roll onto his hands and knees, but in the last moment, he grabbed her ankle. He didn’t mean to topple her over, but down she went, landing on her bum. Ian scrambled, pinning her firmly on the floor, holding her arm and the paper she gripped above her head.
    â€œYou are…” Ian’s voice trailed off. Her eyes were shining with ire, her chest rising and falling with each furious breath. She was close enough to kiss. This was twice in the space of about fifteen minutes, and in that moment, on a floor that smelled faintly of solvent, with her dark hair spilling around her, he wanted to