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“Yes,” she said “I can type”

He nodded again “There’s a job opening for a typist Well, a secretary”

“A personal assistant,” she said sweetly, because she couldn’t help herself

He snorted “This is not a job that involves arranging flowers or planning parties It’s for a wo Some shorthand Brew coffee, run errands, you know the routine”

She certainly did When she’d studied business, older women in the department had talked about the days when men automatically assumed those functions were strictly sex-related But she could survive stereotyping for a feeeks, because, surely, it wouldn’t take longer than that to get her head around what had happened, save a little money and plan a way out

“Can you do those things?”

“I don’t take shorthand” Did anyone, in her world? “But I can handle the rest of it”

“Fine”

He turned the key The Silverado gave a sexy growl and he shifted into Reverse, laid his ar toward the le sizzled through her She caught her breath The sooner she got this job, got a rooot away from Jesse Blackwolf, the better

Say so about the job, about the world, just say so that takes your mind off him

“Where’s this job located?”

“Outside town”

Outside town Hoould she get back and forth to work? She wasn’t going to ask

“What’s it pay?”

He glanced at her, then at the road “Enough”

“Enough? Enough?” Sienna glared at him “What’s that mean? I’ll have to find a room, buy food, buy clothes…”

“One-twenty a week”

The amount was surely a joke—or was that what a secretary was expected to live on in the seventies?

Sienna lifted her chin “No way”

“One-thirty Plus room and board”

“Youto live where I work?”

“Yeah” His tone turned sarcastic “Unless you’d prefer to drive there in the car you don’t own”