Читать книгу Sex By The Numbers - Marie Donovan - Страница 12

“CONTROLLER-IN-TRAINING for Bingham Brothers?” Dane’s best friend and future brother-in-law Adam Hale drank his dark Guinness beer and raised a black eyebrow.

“Yep. Binky Bingham offered me the job a few days ago and I accepted. I moved my stuff into one of their corporate apartments until I find a permanent place.” Or until the audit was finished and Dane could move on. He gestured to the bartender to bring him another bottle of Wölfbräu, a Wisconsin beer brewed not too far from his parents’ farm. He was drinking the original brew because that was what the bar carried, but his favorite variety was Wolfie’s Honey Weiss, a honey-flavored pale ale.

Adam shook his head. “I have to admit, I can’t see you working permanently for any company, much less them. I thought Charlie Bingham tried to punch you once.” Adam was a financial analyst for another big Chicago company and knew the local heavy hitters.

“Yeah, the keyword is tried.” Dane drank some beer and they both laughed. Charlie Bingham was a health club monkey, good for swinging off the bars but not much else. “I was attending the same charity function as his grandfather and Charlie made a drunken crack about Binky’s date.”

“Probably younger than Charlie,” Adam commented. “Still, not the thing to do to your family, especially in public.”

“He was upsetting Binky, so I said something to him and he took a swing at my jaw. He missed by a mile, so I pinned his arm behind his back and poured him into his limo to go sleep it off.”

“Gee, Dane, I can see why you’d jump at the chance to work there. Sixty-hour weeks in some bland office, fossilized business practices and a chief financial officer who’ll stab you in the back with his secretary’s letter opener if you drop your guard. A real dream job compared to your last few months freelancing for that up-and-coming Asian firm.” Adam rolled his eyes. “Come on, what’s up?”

Dane munched on some peanuts and considered what to say to Adam, who was part of the same industry and not uninterested in such an eminent company. Family or no, Binky’s confidentiality came first. “Binky asked me to come aboard. He’s not getting any younger, you know.”

“He’s not, but his dates are!” Adam caught Dane’s warning glance and grinned. “Okay, okay. I know Binky took you under his wing when you were a broke MBA student.”

“I owe him a lot, and now it’s time to pay him back.” His tone indicated it was a closed subject.

“Okay, Dane.” Adam reached for some pretzels and gazed at the baseball game on the TV. They were in a bar where the guys from the neighborhood stopped for a few brews before heading home. Despite Adam’s polished city-boy appearance, he came from a similar blue-collar background. “Geez, would you look at that? The Brewers are losing to the Cubs again. Pathetic.” He turned to Dane. “Well, Binky’s lucky to have someone like you at his side. Men in his position often don’t have any allies without their own agendas. You’re a loyal man.”

Loyal? Dane supposed he was, although he’d never thought of it that way. Loyal, dependable Dane. Not the most exciting description, but it beat being a rude jerk like Charlie.

What kind of man did Keeley like? Over the past several days since their coffee meeting, he’d caught himself looking forward to seeing her tomorrow morning. He hoped she’d bought some outfits that showed off her body a bit more. If Charlie thought she was only working there because Dane was interested in her, Charlie would have even more reason to drop his guard.

As long as Dane didn’t drop his. Problem was, he could instantly imagine Keeley taking his “dictation” naked and flat on her back on the conference table. Or maybe in the copier room against some paper cartons. Or sitting in a big leather office chair, her ankles draped over the arms.

He didn’t know why he was so attracted to her, considering he usually went for women who were obviously sexy and not afraid to show it. Maybe it was those flashes of sex-kittenhood popping out from her buttoned-up accountant persona. And the way she swung her ass from side to side when she absolutely had to know he was watching her. He rubbed his hand across his face.

“You okay?” Adam nudged his elbow. “You’re all red.”

“Am I?” He knew he was, judging from the heat in his cheeks. “Kind of warm in here.”

“If you say so.” The bar’s air-conditioning was turned to frigid temperatures thanks to a mid-April heat wave. Fortunately, his friend let it drop. “Bridget will be glad you’re going to stay in Chicago for a while. You can help us plan the wedding.”

“Oh, goody, can I?” Dane gave him a sidelong glance. It had taken some getting used to that his baby sister was living with and would be marrying Adam, Dane’s former bar buddy and champion chick-scoring wingman.

Adam cleared his throat. “After all, we want you to be my best man. You and your brother, that is.”

“Colin and me? Are you sure you want me? After all, I did try to strangle you when I learned you were dating Bridget.” More than just dating actually, but those events were better left unmentioned.

“Hey, what’s a little strangulation between brothers?” Adam joked, but his dark eyes were serious.

“Adam, ever since you and Colin were roommates at college, I’ve always thought of you as a brother. Marrying Bridget just makes it official.”

Adam swallowed hard and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem.” Dane nodded and slapped him on the back in return. Okay, big emotional moment over. Maybe they could catch the end of the ball game.

“You know, this engagement and marriage thing is pretty cool.”

Dane gave a quiet sigh. Back to the emotional stuff. “Yep.”

“I mean, after all these years of knowing you guys and knowing your sister and having it all come together so we’re all together—it’s pretty cool.” Adam grinned like a goofball.

“Cool,” he agreed. Cool, if incoherent. What inning was the ball game in, anyway?

“Now that you’re staying put for more than one week, maybe you can meet someone, too.”

That got his attention. “Geez, Adam. Don’t go all squirrelly on me. I’m glad for you two, but now is not the right time in my life to go looking for anyone.” Adam would soon know that Dane’s time in Chicago would only be long enough to finish his investigation and move on. Dane already had some feelers out for his next consulting job.

“Love comes when you least expect it,” Adam intoned, the beige Guinness foam on his upper lip ruining the sentiment.

“What are you, a greeting card poet?” Dane shook his head. Adam had to be drunk to spout such sappy crap.

His friend smirked. “Laugh if you want, but you know the old saying—the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And you are one big guy.”

“That refers to being punched in the jaw, not falling in love.”

Adam grinned and socked him in the shoulder. “Take it from me. You won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“WHAT SHOULD WE DRINK TO?” Sugar hoisted her butterscotch-vanilla martini high in anticipation.

Keeley lifted her limoncello cocktail in response. “To the end of tax season!”

“To the start of a new tax year with lots more money!” Sugar slugged back her drink and Keeley followed suit, the tart liquor puckering her lips. Yum. The trendy bar they were drinking in made the coolest cocktails. Since it was Sunday night, the crowd was a bit lighter, but more casual than Friday or Saturday night. The weekend was basically over, so people were more relaxed and not trying so hard to hook up with each other.

“Thanks for treating me to dinner and drinks, Keeley. It’s fun to get dressed for a girls’ night out. I got stuck working Friday night and last night, so I could use a break before my Monday morning class.”

“Thanks for suggesting we come here, and you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do after you treated me to lunch last week.” After getting Binky’s first check, she had a bit of breathing room.

“But that was lunch, not dinner and drinks. You must have had a great tax season. Or maybe Binky’s gig panned out and you’re doing his audit?” Sugar swiped some butterscotch sauce off the rim of her martini glass and licked her finger.

Keeley hesitated, client confidentiality keeping her from spilling her guts.

“Oh, come on, Keel. You know Binky tells me everything.” She dug in her purse and held up her cell phone. “I can call him to give you permission if that would make you feel better.”

“If you want to know that badly, go ahead.”

Sugar pressed a couple buttons, and Binky’s name popped up on her phone screen.

“He’s on your speed dial?” Keeley whispered.

“Anyone with eight or nine zeroes in his bank account is on my speed dial,” Sugar whispered. “Hello, Binks, sweetie, how are you?”

Binky was apparently fine and wanted to tell Sugar all about it. Keeley slugged back the rest of her limoncello while Sugar made appropriate cooing noises. That was the trouble with dancers seeing customers outside of the club. They got way too involved with each other’s personal lives, and things could get messy. On the other hand, Binky’s fraternization with strippers had landed Keeley a job with him, so who was she to complain?

“Binky, I’m here with my good friend Keeley, but she’s superprofessional and won’t tell me a thing about your situation until you give her the green light.” She listened and handed the phone to Keeley. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Hello?”

“Binky Bingham, here. Please feel free to take Sugar into your confidence, my dear. She has one of the best business brains I’ve run in to. In fact, on that unfortunate day when she steps down from her entertaining career, I’ve told her she can have carte blanche of positions at Bingham Brothers.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingham. I take my clients’ confidentiality very seriously—”

“Of course you do. Could you ask Sugar when she’s next scheduled to perform at Frisky’s?”

Keeley rolled her eyes but did as he asked.

“Wednesday. I’ll be looking for you, Binky!” she called into the phone.

“Excellent. Goodbye, and good luck, Kelly.” Binky hung up.

Close enough, as long as his check cleared.

“So who is Binky’s mysterious protégé?” Sugar leaned closer over her glass.

“You know him—Dane Weiss. I start working with him at Bingham Brothers tomorrow.”

“My, oh, my, Bridget’s brother!” Sugar whistled. “And how is the very virile viking these days?”

Keeley wondered if Sugar had ever been close to Dane’s “virility.” “You know him well, then?”

“I’ve met him a few times at Bridget’s functions, but never outside that.” She giggled and wiggled her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Don’t worry, sweetie. He’s not a regular of mine. In fact, he thinks I’m a bad influence on his sweet little sis. She came to Chicago fresh from the family farm and fell in to designing stripper outfits for rent money. Of course, that’s how she got her big break, but that’s neither here nor there to him. He disapproves of the whole business.”

“Dane doesn’t like strippers and he’s a friend of Binky’s?” Keeley asked skeptically. “Binky does enough business at Frisky’s to list their address on his tax return.”

“Yeah, considering how much money he spends there, Tony the manager would offer Binky a lap dance himself to keep him happy.”

Keeley shuddered at the idea of short, fat Tony gyrating above Binky in his shiny gray suit and open-neck black shirt, his gold chains glittering. “I need another drink to get that picture out of my mind.”

Sugar hailed the waiter, who practically vaulted over three tables to get to her. He took their reorder and galloped back with their drinks.

Keeley took a sip of her limoncello cocktail. She loved the fresh lemon liqueur, a grown-up version of the el cheapo powdered lemonade she and her sister drank on hot summer days when they were kids. Lacey used to set up elaborate lemonade stands for the neighborhood kids while Keeley kept a protective eye on her. At least the lemonade stand had never been robbed, unlike the convenience store where their mom worked.

Dane Weiss had grown up on a dairy farm. She bet he never had to worry if his dad was going to come home from the barn or if a cow would pull a pistol on him.

“That was a pretty heavy sigh, Keel.” Sugar, an expert at reading people’s moods, eyed her over her martini rim. “Don’t worry about this gig with Dane. He’s a real straight shooter.”

Keeley shook her head. “If he’s such a straight shooter, I don’t know how this will all turn out.” She leaned over the table. “I’m going in undercover as his secretary.”

“Undercover or under the covers with Dane?” Sugar whooped.

“Ha, ha.” Although she had definitely considered the second possibility. Dane was so big, so strong and handsome…She drank most of her limoncello to try to cool off.

“If you don’t want him, I’ll give him another try. Maybe he likes blondes.”

“Hands off, honey,” Keeley snapped without thinking.

Sugar giggled. “Well, well. I haven’t heard that tone of voice from you in a long time.”

“Just slipped out,” she mumbled. And she couldn’t even blame the cocktails, since it was only her second.

“Keeley, darling, please put yourself first for once. Ever since we’ve known each other, you’ve been all work and no play. Helping your sister, putting yourself through school and finally taking that dreadful CPA exam—how many hours was it?”

“Fifteen long, torturous hours sitting in front of a computer terminal.”

“Ugh.” Sugar shuddered. “And I thought my MBA classes were bad. So when was the last time you got any?”

“Any what? Sleep?” Sugar was right. She had been going nonstop for months.

“You know what.”

“Oh, that. That’s been kind of low on my priority list lately.”

“Well, rewrite your priority list with that at the top. You could do worse than Dane Weiss to have some fun with. He’s single, handsome and really strong from that clean, dairy-farm upbringing. He’s built like a bull.”

“And probably hung like one, too,” Keeley answered without thinking. She’d seen a bit of a wiggle under his zipper during her double entendres at the bakery.

“There you go!” Sugar patted her hand. “Thank goodness, a sign of life after all.”

“I don’t know, Sugar. I’ll be working with him for several weeks and it could be awkward bringing sex into the equation.”

“Nonsense. It’ll add to the spice. Fear of discovery is a major turn-on for men. You know that.”

Keeley did know that. Could she put herself first for once? And would Dane even be receptive to her? “I don’t know. Maybe he won’t be interested in me. Maybe I’ve lost my touch.”

“Puh-leeze! Once you’ve got it, you never lose it. Ditch those boring brown dust rags you call clothes and lighten up. Just because you’re an accountant doesn’t mean you have to dress like a manila file folder.”

“That’s what Dane said. In fact, Binky’s paying me a clothing allowance to disguise myself so Charlie won’t recognize me from previous networking events.”

“Clothing allowance?” Sugar straightened. “How much?”

“A bundle. But I haven’t had time to spend it since I got stuck filing a bunch of tax extensions this weekend. I do have enough old outfits to get me through a few days at Bingham Brothers.”

“Your old outfits?” Sugar raised her eyebrow.

“I still fit in them, you know.” Geez, it wasn’t as if she’d porked up.

“Not exactly office wear.”

“I know that. Nobody will suspect the newest bimbo secretary of auditing the accounts, and besides, Dane told me to wear more revealing clothing.” He had no idea what he was in for tomorrow.

“Dane’s the boss. I know you’ll knock his socks off.”

Keeley drained her glass. “Maybe I’ll knock his pants off instead.”

KEELEY UNLOCKED the door to her second-floor walk-up apartment and hung her waist-length brown leather jacket on a hook in the narrow foyer. She walked into the small kitchen with its metal 1950s cabinets and tossed her keys on the gold-speckled Formica counter.

Her vintage 1905 greystone was one of the few buildings left untouched by the renovation bug sweeping through the Ukrainian Village neighborhood. Her landlady lived downstairs and had successfully resisted her sons’ attempts to move her into an assisted living home and sell out to a rehabber. Of course, once everything was overdeveloped, Ukrainian Village would lose the qualities that made it a fun place to live—reasonable rents, decent parking and a laid-back, yet hip atmosphere.

Keeley grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed into the bedroom to decide what on earth to wear on her first day as an undercover bimbo.

She opened the tiny closet and reached past the white-and-cream high-neck blouses, brown, black and gray suits, and the sensible neutral pumps and subdued silk scarves, to the clothes she never wore anymore, but hadn’t been able to let go of.

She pulled out skintight sleeveless tops in fuchsia, red and lime-green, skirts so short they were illegal in certain jurisdictions and the literal kicker, four-inch high stilettos and platform heels in black, white and clear plastic Lucite.

If bimbos ever got together and wrote a dress code, she could comply perfectly. She stripped off her khaki pants and cream-colored blouse and exchanged them for a low-cut white top, black miniskirt and black open-toed heels with rhinestone ankle straps.

She took a few experimental steps across her bedroom, her old sashay falling into place. The heels were higher than she was used to, but the rhinestones still sparkled nicely, if not as much as they had under the stage lights.

She stopped in front of the mirror. Something was out of place. The clothes were okay, her bod still fairly decent, but it was the hair. Too brunette.

She reached up to the top shelf—easy to do in her platforms—and picked a round white box. Blowing the dust off, she set it on her bed and studied her emphatic hot-pink printing on the top. Property of Cherry Tarte!!! She shook her head at the juvenile writing. At least she hadn’t drawn hearts to dot the exclamation points.

She removed the lid and lifted out her absolutely favorite red-haired wig, its luxuriant waves cascading over her hands. Brenda Starr-red. Rita Hayworth-red. Ann-Margret-red. And of course, stripper-red.

Pulling the wig on, she tucked her hair under it and stared at her reflection. “Hello again, Cherry,” she said to herself. “Bet you thought you’d never come out of retirement.”

For it had been the infamous Cherry Tarte, Keeley’s alter ego, who had paid for her accounting degree by baring it all for the boys at the Love Shack. It was ironic, to say the least, that she’d use Cherry’s persona for what could be the biggest accounting job of her career.

And it was all thanks to Dane Weiss and his need for a bimbo forensic accountant. She couldn’t wait to see his face when his new executive assistant started work tomorrow morning all tarted up. Or rather, “Cherry-Tarted.”