Fringe Benefits by Christine Pope

Fringe Benefits by Christine Pope
lightly sensual contemporary romance
length novel (95K)
price $5.70
Cover Art StonyHill Productions
ISBN# 978-0-9826023-7-9

BLURB:
Mick Jagger was right. You can’t always get what you want. Katherine Wheeler is finding that out the hard way, after spending six months in Los Angeles with little to show for her efforts besides a rapidly dwindling bank account. So when an online ad offers the sort of position she can only dream of, she answers it at once. Alarm bells go off when she realizes her new boss is dangerously attractive, but Katherine figures she can handle the situation. After all, Pieter Van Rijn seems to be a consummate professional. What could possibly go wrong?

After dealing with the love-struck son of a movie producer, a threatened lawsuit, and an earthquake, Katherine thinks she may have to re-evaluate her situation. But all those complications are nothing compared to wanting a man who doesn’t seem to want her back…

EXCERPT:
The phone rang and I started, spilling some water on my hand from the over-full glass I held. I muttered a curse under my breath, set down the glass, and picked up the handset, giving a quick glance at the readout of the caller ID as I did so. Pyramid Imports, it read, and gave a number in the 323 area code. I tried to recall if I’d submitted a resume to a company with that name, but even though I’d been applying all over the place lately, it didn’t sound familiar.

“Hello?” I said.

A man’s voice, precise, with just the faintest hint of an accent I couldn’t place.

“Katherine Wheeler?”

“Um, yes.” Wow, that sounded brilliant.

“I received your resume and photo, and would like to schedule an interview. Are you free tomorrow morning at ten?”

Gee, let me check my busy social calendar, I thought, but even though my heart had begun to beat faster as I realized who the mysterious caller must be, at least my voice sounded calm enough as I responded, “Yes, I’m free.”

“Good. Let me give you the directions.” He gave me an address only a few miles from where I lived, in an area dominated mostly by warehouses and light manufacturing. Well, that made sense, if he really were running an import business.

“I’ll see you then, Mr. -- ” I trailed off; he hadn’t told me his name.

“Van Rijn,” he replied. It rhymed with “wine.”

“Ten o’clock then, Mr. Van Rijn.”

“Excellent.” And he hung up.

I continued to stand there for a moment, staring at the handset I held, until it began to emit an irritated-sounding busy signal and I slowly replaced it in its cradle. Well, that appeared to be that. It seemed the mysterious Mr. Van Rijn didn’t have any problems with brunettes after all.

Now all I had to do was select an outfit for the interview that would convey just the right mixture of responsibility and style. The weather was too hot for a suit, even if I had owned one. If nothing else, scrutinizing my meager wardrobe might help to distract me from thinking I had just made a very big mistake.