Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Thomas clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to react.
Of course Kate was sitting at a coffee shop with a demon. Of. Frickin’. Course.
Yagi had accompanied him, and even now the man was glaring at the tall, gangly looking demon. He snarled something in a low, hissing voice. It didn’t sound Japanese. The demon grimaced and slowly got to his feet.
“Hey, knock that off! He’s here because of me,” Kate snapped, getting to her feet as well. Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, don’t tell me. You’re one of those Japanese uno-guys, too, aren’t you? Unomodi? Onomodi?”
“Too?” That seemed to shock Yagi enough to have him blinking at her. “You know another onimyoji?”
“I’ve, um, heard about them,” she hedged, then stepped protectively in front of the demon.
“Anyway, Slim wasn’t hurting anybody, so don’t put the whammy on him.
We were just having a little Yoo-hoo break.
The Boys will be done soon, and then he’s going to have to go back, so I wanted to hang out with him. ”
“And do a little research, huh?” Thomas asked dryly.
She glared at him. “Really? You’re going to play king of the moral high ground. Really.”
To Thomas’s surprise, the demon, “Slim,” stepped up. “Kate has a right to know,” he said with a quiet dignity that was surprising. “She needs to protect herself from those who would use her.”
Thomas ignored the slice of guilt that slashed through him. “Back to the basement, big fella.”
Kate put a hand on Yagi’s arm. “Don’t let Al do anything to him,” she said quietly. Desperately. “I swear, it was all my idea, dragging him up here.”
“I will miss you, Kate,” Slim said, shocking Thomas again. Even Yagi’s eyes widened.
She didn’t seem to notice, turning back to the demon. “Don’t worry. I’ll visit again before you go back. If that’s okay?” she asked Thomas.
“Sure,” Thomas said uncertainly. With that, Yagi accompanied the tall demon to the elevators.
Kate slumped down in her chair. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
“You are trouble,” he corrected, sitting across from her. “What was he telling you?”
“What Hell was like. Demon stuff.” She shrugged, then finished the rest of her chocolate milk. “Sounds awful.”
“From what I understand, it’s no picnic.” He cleared his throat. “But I wasn’t interrupting you simply to lay down the law. I need you to do something for me.”
The guilt that he’d started to feel at Slim’s cheap shot now intensified.
She needs to protect herself from those who would use her.
Which was exactly what he was going to do.
He forced his voice to stay light, casual. Charming. It was his deal-closing voice.
“When I first broached the subject of you becoming my assistant, you thought you weren’t, ah, ‘together’ enough to fit the job description,” Thomas said. “It occurs to me that what you wear might have something to do with it.”
She blinked at him. “I was talking with a demon, and you’re pissed about dress code?”
“I’m not pissed,” he countered, as she took her usual Kate-left-turn from the conversation.
She gestured down at her khakis and button-down shirt. “Because this is as business-y as I can manage, I have to tell you. If it were up to me, I’d live in a Raiders sweatshirt and jeans.”
“The black and silver would fit our color scheme, but I think it’d be better if you wore our clothing,” he said, waiting to deliver what he thought would be the winning point. “Fiendish Fashion. Everyone who is employed at headquarters full-time is expected to wear it, actually.”
“What, you’re serious?” she repeated, then took a minute, looking him over. He imagined she was just taking in the black suit, but the slight, almost reluctant look of admiration made him sit straighter and grin a little. “Aren’t they totally expensive?”
“We’ve got a lower end line at Neiman Marcus. I wasn’t expecting you to wear the couture line.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ah, yes. The affordable clothes at Neiman Marcus.”
“In your case, it doesn’t matter.” He reached into his wallet, pulling out a glossy black credit card. “Go into the city, to our Fiendish Fashion flagship store. Get whatever you want. Hell, get two of whatever you want. And that includes accessories—shoes, bags, jewelry. Go nuts.”
She didn’t wear any accessories, he suddenly realized, except for her square glasses. Not a ring, earring, or even a watch. Other than her messenger bag, he didn’t think she carried a purse.
“I bet for some women, that whole ‘here, Sunshine, go on a shopping spree’ thing is a real panty-dropper.” She laughed, then gasped. “And…I just said that out loud. To my boss.”
“Kate,” he said around a chuckle, “I can say with all honesty that I have never met another woman like you.”
“Yeah, they broke the mold when they made me,” she said, her olive cheeks going rosy as she gingerly took the card. “Beat the hell out of the mold maker, too. I’ll drop by the store this weekend.”
“Now, that’s not going to do.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Take the rest of the day. Henri, the manager, will be waiting for you there to help you pick out stuff. I’ll send you with a town car, too. There’s no way you’d be able to carry a full wardrobe back on the BART.”
“A full wardrobe? And a town car? Today?” She gaped at him. “Why?”
Thomas cleared his throat. “We’re holding a press conference tomorrow. I want to introduce you as my new hire.”
Now her eyes narrowed. “I’m just an assistant. Who holds a press conference because they’ve hired an assistant?”
He knew she’d ask. Any other woman might have just basked in the opportunity, or quailed at the exposure. Most would be too bowled over by the Pretty Woman wardrobe treatment to care.
But Kate went to the heart of it.
“The president and CEO of Fiendish does,” he answered easily.
“Don’t worry, Fiendish is the story more than anything.
All you need to do is smile, maybe answer a few questions about your background.
Honestly, they’re probably going to want to take pictures of you and ask some stupid questions, but if you’re going to represent me, I want you to look… well…”
“You want me to look Fiendish,” she said, and graced him with a mischievous smile that had his heart pumping a little more quickly. “You want me to look the part.”
“I want you to be yourself,” he said. “But yeah, I’d like to see you in my clothes.”
Her eyes widened, and she licked her bottom lip nervously. He stared at the unconscious action, drawn to it.
Then realized what he’d said.
“I want to see you showcasing the brand,” he quickly corrected.
Although he suddenly had an image of her wearing only one of his shirts—and nothing else.
She grinned, but her cheeks darkened even more. “Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll, er, go get branded.”
He smiled, and they both laughed.
It was so easy, he thought. So easy to forget why he’d hired her. Why she was still there.
So easy to ignore why he was putting her on television, in newspapers, and anyplace else he could think of to draw Victor Klauss out.