Free Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You (v1.2) by Kasey Michaels

French toast were two different things and when in hell was she going to figure that out, damn it.
    “Um… charming man,” Shelby said, swallowing hard on a very large lump of nervousness.
    “He’s all bluster,” Brandy told her, grabbing the check Tabby had thrown onto the table as she ran by, muttering under her breath about how she didn’t need to be insulted, she had better things to do with her life than be insulted. “They all love him, really. And so do the customers. To tell you the truth, I think it’s all an act. Otherwise they’d run all over him. He paid Thelma’s way to Oklahoma , you know, not that he wants anyone to know that. Just stand up to him, don’t take any guff, don’t take anything he says to heart, and you’ll be fine. Just fine.”
    “Just fine? Brandy, I don’t have the faintest idea what a hostess does in a place like this. Do you?”
    Brandy led the way out of the restaurant. “Nope, not really. But you’ll manage. Of course, you probably should have asked him how much he’s going to pay you, but then you’ll probably be fired by tonight anyway. Ah, there’s my bus, right on time—only ten minutes late. Here’s the key to the apartment. I’ll be home before six. In fact, Gary and I will come by for dinner, let you seat us, hand us our menus.”
    “That’s all I have to do? Seat people?” Shelby walked to the bus with Brandy. “That doesn’t sound too difficult.”
    “Made in the shade, babe,” Brandy told her, patting her arm. “Have fun, you grand adventuress, you!”
    Shelby stood at the corner until the bus was out of sight, then slowly walked back to the apartment. She’d been on her own for only a day and she had friends, a place to live, and now a job.
    Now she was going to discover what it was like to be a normal person living in a normal world. She was having an adventure, being a real person. She could do this. She would do this.
    “Made in the shade,” she repeated to herself as she kicked at a stone with the toe of her Gucci loafer, not having the faintest idea what that meant.

Chapter Twelve
    “I said no. N, as in not hardly, and O, as in it’s out of the damn question.”
    Grady sat back in his desk chair, deliberately wincing as his shoulder made contact with the plush leather, and looked up at his hovering, glowering partner. “It wasn’t an either or question, Quinn,” he pointed out calmly. “It was more of a ‘So when can you start’ question.”
    “And the answer is never,” Quinn told him. “And you can stop playing the wounded warrior, because I don’t give a damn. The Rich and Repulsives are yours, remember? Besides, we’re nearing the end of the fiscal year, and I’m up to my ass in paperwork. I’ve already fired two temps, and if Selma doesn’t come back soon we’re all in trouble.”
    “True enough. But I can’t do this one, and you know it. For one, I’m injured, not in the line of duty, granted, but injured just the same. Two, she knows me. I’ve been squiring the Taites around town for three years, while you’ve already told me you’re willing to bet she wouldn’t recognize you again if she tripped over you. By the way, that really pulled your chain, didn’t it—that she didn’t even notice the great Quinn Delaney—or was that Clancy? Anyway, we can’t take the chance of spooking her, sending her running again before we can get her home. Oh, yeah, and three, the Taites always insist on a partner in the firm, remember?”
    “Fine,” Quinn spit. “Promote Maisie; she’s all but running the place anyway. Because I’m not doing it, Grady. I’m not playing Chase the Heiress. As far as I’m concerned, the woman wanted to get lost. Let’s all do her a favor and let her be lost. Besides, she’s probably on the French Riviera with some gigolo and having the time of her life.”
    Grady shifted in his chair. “Are you sure? The note could have been written under duress, you know. Maybe she was actually