Page 39 of Tempting the Player
Bridget arched a brow. “You can put this offer in pretty wrappings and tie a bow around it, but I’m accepting money to be someone’s girlfriend. No matter which way you look at it, that’s a form of prostitution. I’m not that desperate.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Then why even approach me with it?”
Miss Gore sighed as she placed her glasses back on, and her expression hardened. “Well, if you’re unwilling to take payment for the service, I have another offer for you.”
She started to stand. “I’m not interested. I hope Chad works this out and stays with the Nationals, but this isn’t—”
“Please sit,” Miss Gore said in such a diplomatic manner Bridget found herself sitting. “You didn’t let me finish.” She paused and that tight, tense smile appeared. No teeth. “Did you know that upon being hired by the Smithsonian, as with all government-funded jobs, a background and credit check was run? That as a condition of your employment, you must avoid any criminal acts but also keep a clean, healthy credit score?”
A tingle of unease raced down Bridget’s spine.
“Defaulting on a student loan can result in termination of your employment even if you’ve made attempts to make arrears and are currently working with a collection agency.” Miss Gore crossed her legs as Pepsi inched closer to her. “Now most employers don’t keep up on things like credit checks, but all it would take is one phone call.”
Bridget’s jaw hit the floor as the unease exploded like a cannon.
“Do you understand, Miss Rodgers?” she asked politely.
“You…you wouldn’t.” Bridget couldn’t even believe this woman would do something like that. “That’s blackmail.”
“Or it’s just me doing my civil duty.” She shrugged stiffly. “Perhaps you should’ve accepted the money.”
Bridget stared at her a moment and then shot to her feet, sending Pepsi scurrying into the kitchen. “You bitch!”
Miss Gore arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “I have certainly been called worse. This isn’t personal. I have a job to do.”
“This isn’t personal?” Bridget had never hit someone before, but as she curled her hands into fists, she was damn close to doing a meet-and-greet with the woman’s face. “You’re threatening my job—my livelihood!”
“And Chad’s behavior is threatening mine,” she replied. “If you want to get angry with anyone…” Her gaze dropped to Bridget’s hands. “Or hit anyone, take it out on Chad—but not in public, please.”
“Get out of my house. Now.” Bridget’s hands were shaking with the effort to restrain herself.
Instead of standing and leaving like anyone who valued her life would, Miss Gore reached into her bag and pulled out the newspaper. It was open to the gossip section and there it was, the picture of her and Chad on the street, practically eating each other’s faces.
