Читать книгу Risking It All... - Yvonne Lindsay, Brenda Jackson - Страница 16
ОглавлениеConstance awoke with a jolt. Sunlight streamed through a crack in the curtains, announcing that the day was well under way.
John was gone, his side of the bed rumpled and empty.
She blinked, trying to read her watch. Ten-fifteen? She’d slept half the morning away. Why hadn’t John woken her? She clutched the covers around her, trying to cover her nakedness, even though she seemed to be alone in here. Where were her clothes? She barely remembered taking them off. They were probably on the floor somewhere.
She spotted them neatly draped over a chair on the far side of the room. John must have picked them up this morning. How embarrassing! She lay here sleeping while he was up and about. Right now he was probably in a meeting or doing his daily perusal of the previous night’s takings, and she was just waking up from a sensual dream.
She sprang out of bed and hurried across the room, then tried to tug her clothes on so fast it was more difficult than if she’d taken her time. She kept glancing about the room as if someone was watching. She checked her phone and saw several messages, mostly from work. There was no way she could even listen to them, never mind return the calls, while standing in John Fairweather’s bedroom!
Her suit was wrinkled, probably from lying in a heap all night. She couldn’t manage to get her hair to cooperate either. She certainly hoped she could get out of here without running into anyone. And she had to drive all the way to her hotel and back before she could even get to work.
She tried to use the elevator that opened right into the suite, but she couldn’t get the door to open. It required some kind of code she didn’t know. Cringing with embarrassment, she cracked open the door that led into a hotel hallway. A cleaner’s cart sat two doors down. She’d better get out of here before they wandered in with the vacuum. Glancing around and scurrying like a cartoon character, she darted for the public elevators at the far end of the hall.
Constance pressed the button and gritted her teeth with impatience. She couldn’t remember a single occasion in her life before now that she’d needed to skulk about and conceal her shockingly inappropriate activities.
Naturally the elevator opened right into the elegant main lobby, which was unusually well populated for a weekday morning. Worse yet, she could see John giving a television interview in front of the decorative mural on the far side of the room. The cameraman with his bulky mike and the aggressively tanned male reporter almost blocked her way to the main exit, and she hesitated for a minute to plan her escape.
John hadn’t seen her yet and she wanted to make sure he didn’t. She didn’t want him to smile and wave or otherwise draw attention to her.
“...investigated by the Bureau of Indian Affairs on suspicion of fraud...” The reporter’s words assaulted her ears as she got closer. Little did they know the BIA’s official investigator was trying to sneak past them wearing yesterday’s underwear, with John Fairweather’s DNA licked into its fabric.
John was talking now, looking directly at the reporter. She seized her chance to break for the door, avoiding his gaze as she strode across the lobby, heels clicking. Luckily the camera was facing the other way so she wouldn’t be caught on tape making her escape.
She burst out into blinding sunlight with her adrenaline pounding and fumbled for her car keys, desperate to escape before anyone saw her or tried to talk to her.
* * *
Back in her hotel room, after showering and washing away John’s passionate touch, Constance called the office. “Nicola Moore of the BIA called about six times for you,” Lynn whispered into the phone. “She’s getting hysterical. Where have you been? There’s been some kind of exposé article published about the New Dawn casino and she wants to know if it’s true.”
That would explain the TV reporter in the lobby. “What does it say?”
“The usual stuff, how they’ve grown too big too fast and it can’t be legit.”
“That’s hardly a news story.”
“There’s some stuff about his uncle. I forget the guy’s name but apparently he has a colorful past. Money laundering or something similar.”
Constance frowned. John’s uncle Don? She didn’t like the guy much. He gave off a sleazebag vibe. “Everything’s still checking out fine. They’re very profitable because there are people here throwing their money away twenty-four hours a day.”
“Are you sure you’re not blinded to iniquity by John Fairweather’s dazzling smile?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she retorted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so snappy.” What a shame she couldn’t explain why she hadn’t gotten too much sleep last night. “I’m starting to get annoyed with all the negative opinions that keep cropping up, when I can’t find any justification for them. I can’t help but think people are just jealous and resent the tribe’s success. Why shouldn’t they have some prosperity for a change? They’ve been kicked around since the 1600s. It’s about time they got to enjoy life a bit. I don’t know why people get so upset that they’re making money.”
“Maybe because they don’t pay taxes on it?”
“Actually, they do pay some taxes. It was built into their agreements with the state. And they provide employment in an otherwise depressed area. I’ve totally revised my opinion of the place and I wish everyone else would do the same.”
“You sound very passionate.”
Passionate? What an odd choice of word. She’d certainly experienced passion last night. It dwarfed her most ambitious daydreams. “Nonsense. I’m entirely practical. I can’t see why it’s okay for corporations to make money hand over fist and interpret laws to meet their needs, but not tribes. This is America. We love money and profits. You and I wouldn’t have a job without them!”
Lynn laughed. “So true. Anyway, you’d better call Ms. Moore. She’s getting on my nerves.”
“Will do. Hopefully I’ll be home in a day or two.” A twinge of sadness shot through her. Once she left she probably wouldn’t ever see John again. Which would make last night’s tryst a one-night stand. Shame swept over her in a hot tide. She’d fallen so easily into his arms. Worse yet, she craved the feel of his arms around her right now. Of his hot kisses claiming her mouth, the powerful sensation of him moving inside her.
“Are you still there?” Lynn asked.
“Yes. Yes. Just going over some notes.” Now she was lying. What next? If anyone found out that she’d had an affair with the man whose business she was supposed to be investigating, she’d be fired. She’d probably lose her accreditation and would never be able to find another job in the field.
“They must be pretty interesting notes. And you’re missing some exciting happenings here at Creighton Waterman. Someone walked in on Lacey, the new trainee, getting up close and personal with Aaron Whitlow.”
“What?” Mr. Whitlow was the straitlaced senior executive who gave them their annual reviews. “He must be twice her age. Maybe even three times!”
“I know. Everyone is freaking out. Worse yet, the person who saw them was Leah, the head of personnel.”
“Did Lacey get fired?”
“She did. It makes me mad. Why does she have to leave? Why not him?”
“He’s in a position of power.”
“That’s hardly fair. She should file a sexual harassment lawsuit. But she didn’t want to. She said it was consensual. She was so upset, crying and red faced. I think she really cared about him.”
Constance swallowed. “It is odd that relationships at work are so taboo. That is where most of us spend our time, after all.”
“It’s because we’re supposed to behave like robots who only care about doing our jobs. Not actual people with feelings. Whitlow’s acting more robotic than ever, of course. Muttering orders under his breath, looking down his snooty nose at people. It does make me laugh to picture him fooling around with a much younger woman. Apparently she was sitting on his desk with her skirt up around her waist!”
“Yikes.” Constance wanted to cringe. Desire. The same thing that had lured her irresistibly into John’s encouraging arms. When examined in the cold light of day, it was embarrassing and inappropriate. What would Lynn—or anyone—say if they could have seen her last night, writhing with pleasure in John’s bed?
“The scandal has certainly livened things up around here, let me tell you. You’re missing all the fun.”
“You know I hate gossip.” She tried to stay out of the petty squabbles around the watercooler.
“I’ll certainly never see Whitlow in the same light again, that’s for sure.”
“Isn’t he a widower? Maybe he was lonely.” Great. Now she was defending a man who’d fooled around with a much younger employee. Of course as a transgressor herself, she could sympathize with him in a way she’d never have been able to imagine even a week ago.
Maybe this whole experience was part of her journey toward greater compassion and understanding. It was pretty humbling, all right. “I have another call coming in.”
“All right. Call Nicola Moore at the BIA before she comes down there looking for you.”
“Will do.” She hung up and grabbed the other call, adrenaline firing because she could see it was John.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Heat rose up from her chest. “Good morning yourself. I can’t believe you let me sleep in like that. I’m so embarrassed.”
“You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you. I had to get up for a media interview.”
“I saw you doing it.” She didn’t want to say what she’d heard about the accusations against his uncle. It didn’t seem appropriate given their professional relationship. Still, she wanted to hear how he’d describe it. “What were they asking you about?”
He paused for a moment. “Nothing very interesting. The usual stuff.”
So he was going to hide it from her. Surely he’d know she could see it on the news or read it on the internet? “I suppose they’re often hoping to stir up a story. Speaking of which, there’s a sex scandal going on at my office right now. If they had any idea what I was up to I’d be out on my ear.”
“I won’t tell them. It’s none of their business.”
“I suppose not. You’re not sleeping with me to cloud my judgment, are you?” She said it in jest, but once the words were out she realized she wasn’t entirely kidding.
He laughed. “If I was, would it be working?”
“Of course not. I have tremendous integrity.” She was trying to convince herself as much as him.
“Tremendous, huh? That is impressive. And I’d expect nothing less of you. Seriously, though, you should probably know that the media has got a wild hair about my uncle Don. I’m sure it will blow over soon, but they’re trying to find him guilty of something, so you may as well hear it from me and not from the BIA.”
“What do they think he’s done?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think they care. Anything they can cook up will do. Want to get together for lunch? It’s almost noon.”
“Noon?” She gulped. “I can’t. I’m not even at the casino. I’m still at my hotel getting changed. I need to focus completely on work for the rest of the day.”
“And the night?”
“And the night.” She blinked. No sense giving him a chance to make plans that were going to rope her even deeper into this impossible affair. One night with him had been intoxicating enough. Another and she might never regain her sanity. “I really need to concentrate on my work. Last night was...”
“Wonderful.”
“Yes, it was.” She had to admit it. “But I’m here to do a job.” And we both know this is going nowhere.
“That’s true, but I want to make sure you don’t work too fast. I don’t want to lose you any sooner than I have to.”
So he could easily admit that their affair had a built-in end. The little pang of sorrow surprised her. “I do have other projects I need to get back to.”
“It’s a shame your office isn’t local. Why would they hire someone from Ohio to investigate a casino in Massachusetts?”
“I think they do that to encourage impartiality. Since I’m not local, I have no stake in building or maintaining a relationship with the New Dawn casino.”
“Just with its owner.” His voice was silky and seductive.
“That was an accident.”
“A very happy one.”
“As long as no one finds out about it.” And really, how happy could it be when she’d be home alone in a few days, lonely as ever?
“Concealment does not come naturally to me.” She heard frustration in his voice. “In fact, I’m hating this need for secrecy. I much prefer to be frank and up front in my dealings with everyone.”
“But you do understand that my job and my reputation depend on keeping this secret?” Panic gripped her quietly.
“Believe me. I do. And I hold myself entirely responsible for the delicate predicament we find ourselves in.” He paused, and the silence hummed for a moment. “Can I come over to your hotel?”
She sucked in a breath as visions of John’s large form in her tiny hotel room crowded her imagination. “No. I really have to work.”
“Bummer.” He sounded so disappointed that she had to smile.
“I have more calls to return. I’ll see you at the office.”
“I’ll make sure of it.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and it made her chest ache a little. She was really going to miss John. Which was ridiculous. She’d only known him a few days and in many ways he was the most infuriating man she’d ever met.
Yet she still liked him so much. And she liked that he’d told her about the suspicions regarding his uncle. As she dialed the number for Nicola Moore at the BIA, she was pretty sure she’d be hearing Don’s name again.
She was right. Nicola immediately launched into a tirade against him.
“Don Fairweather has been previously investigated for money laundering.”
“Was he convicted?” Constance glanced around her room to see if there was anything else she needed to bring to the office. It crossed her mind that she could bring a change of underwear. She told her mind to get back to business.
“No. It went to trial but the jury apparently didn’t find the prosecutor’s evidence convincing enough.”
“Oh. So he was found innocent.”
“Or they just didn’t look hard enough. I want you to make sure to look in places where no one would expect. There was a case recently at another casino where three of the workers managed to pocket hundreds of thousands of dollars by creating fraudulent receipts from the slot machines to bring to the cashiers. One of them created the receipts, one was the runner between the slot machines and the tills, and the other was the cashier. As you can imagine, it was a neat little racket for a while.”
“How did the casino figure out what was going on?”
“Keen observation.”
“You do realize that I’m a forensic accountant and not a private detective?” She had been told she was doing a routine audit of their books. Now that she was here, it appeared that her contact had definite suspicions, or at least was trying to plant some in her mind. That didn’t sit too well with Constance when she needed to stay objective.
“Indeed, Ms. Allen, we’re well aware of that. We simply expect you to find whether the paperwork is truly reflective of the casino’s activities.”
“I understand. I’ll look into every avenue I can think of.”
She hung up and found herself glancing at her underwear drawer again. What if she packed a bag with extra panties and a whole new outfit so she didn’t have to come back to the hotel at all?
The blunt thought shocked her. What would her parents think if they knew what she was doing? They’d issued stern warnings about stepping foot inside such a den of iniquity, and now she was having a sexual affair with a man she wasn’t even in a relationship with.
She’d never have slept with her ex-boyfriend if she hadn’t been utterly convinced that one day—soon—they’d be man and wife. But Phil did not have the looks or the charm of John Fairweather.
No. She couldn’t bring a change of clothes. That would be admitting that she planned to do something inappropriate. If something happened spontaneously, that was different. Going into the New Dawn casino with a deliberate intention to have sex with the man she was investigating seemed far more dangerous and inappropriate. Premeditation, after all, was often the difference between manslaughter and murder.
An unplanned crime—or night—of passion was a little different.
She jumped when the phone rang, as if the person calling could read her thoughts.
And maybe they could. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetheart, are you busy?”
“Yes, very, I’m afraid.” She didn’t want to get into a conversation that might involve little white lies.
“How long are they going to keep you out there in Massachusetts? It’s the church picnic this weekend and I promised you’d run the till. Sally is baking two hundred cupcakes to raise money for the mission in Kenya.”
It was Thursday. The thought that in two days she could be back in Ohio, miles away from John, chilled her. “I don’t know if I’ll be back. I thought I would be, but it keeps getting more complicated. I’m sure you can run the till.” She felt a bit guilty. She usually enjoyed helping out at these events. It was fun to see people coming together for a good cause. Now all she could seem to think about was herself and the affair she shouldn’t be having.
“I already promised to run the lemonade stand. I suppose Sally’s daughter can manage, though. I do wish you were back home. I worry about you being so far away and with the wrong sort of people.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. They’re all quite normal, really. It’s a business like any other.” She glanced at her face in the mirror, wondering if her nose was getting longer. There was nothing normal about John Fairweather. He was larger than life in every possible way.
“I know people visit casinos of their own free will, but profits from gambling just seem like the wages of sin.”
“They’re wages like any others when you look at the account books, and that’s all I’m here to do. How’s Dad doing? Is he taking that new medication the doctor gave him?” Her father’s cholesterol had tested high recently. She was so used to taking care of them. If anything, they’d grown even more dependent on her since she moved back home from college, and she wondered how they’d manage without her if she did move out. Especially if she moved away to a different state.
Not that she should even be thinking along those lines since it was very unlikely to happen.
“Your dad is taking his medicine, but he won’t stop putting mayonnaise on everything. You’ll have to talk some sense into him when you come home. It’s odd here without you. The house feels empty and there’s no one to do the dishes after dinner.”
She had to smile. “I miss you, too. I’m still not sure when I’ll be home, but hopefully by next week.”
They wished each other goodbye and Constance hung up, then sighed, thinking about the endless nights of putting dishes into the machine and watching alarmist news shows that stretched ahead of her like a lonely highway. Then she shoved her phone in her pocket and headed out the door.
Without a change of underwear.
* * *
Constance spent the afternoon stalking the cashiers and wandering around the game rooms. Luckily for her, the New Dawn did not have any kind of middlemen between the customers and the cashiers. Everyone had to bring their own chips to the cashier to turn them into money.
Nothing untoward seemed to be happening at the tables, either. John had told her that the dealers were all experienced professionals, mostly from Atlantic City or Vegas, though he was hoping to train some local people soon.
She walked among the tables watching the customers gamble. People won money. Others lost money. Some won it then lost it. There was nothing that looked fishy. She paused at a roulette table, and watched the croupier spin the wheel.
“Hello, gorgeous.” That deep, rich voice in her ear sent a shiver of warm lust to her core.
She resisted the urge to spin around and instead turned very slowly to face John. A smile was already creeping across her face and she worked hard not to let it get too goofy. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fairweather.”
“I see you’re examining our operations again with that eagle eye of yours. Do you like what you see?”
“Like it? Not so much. I’m still not a fan of gambling.” She smiled primly. His own easy expression didn’t budge. “And I really should keep my findings confidential at this point, don’t you think?”
Now she did see a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What findings?”
“Any findings I should happen to make.” She attempted an air of sphinxlike calm. “I’m not saying I’ve found anything unusual.”
“But you’re not saying you haven’t.” He frowned. “You will tell me if you find anything, won’t you? I’d be damn surprised, but I’d want to know right up front.”
She hesitated. “My first responsibility is to my client.”
“The BIA.”
“I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d tell me about anything you find first.” His face was now deadly serious.
“I don’t think I’m in a position to offer personal favors. I’m here to do a job.” This was getting awkward. He obviously thought she’d found something unexpected in the books that she didn’t want him to know about it. Still, if she did, she should keep it secret while she investigated, so the casino wouldn’t have a chance to cover it all up before she reported back to her client.
She glanced up and saw his uncle Don throw down some chips at a distant roulette table.
“I have no desire to interfere with your performance on the job you’ve been hired to do. You know that. But honestly, if you find anything amiss, I’d be as keen to know about it as anyone else.” His earnest expression preyed on her emotions.
“I’ll tell you if I find anything,” she whispered. “I really do believe you want everything to be aboveboard. But so far, so good.” She smiled. “Though I shouldn’t be telling you that.”
In the distance, Don swiped up a fistful of chips from the table with a smile and shoved them in his pocket. Darius, who managed the cashiers, had told her that Don gambled. She supposed there was nothing illegal in it. Or was there? This was a perfect instance of where she needed to do her own research rather than asking John about it.
Don Fairweather was now heading toward them, a confident smile on his rather wrinkled face. Constance braced herself. She’d better be on alert to see if she could pick up any information to substantiate or debunk the rumors about him.
“Consorting with the enemy, eh, John?” Don turned to her and winked. “You know I’m just kidding. We welcome the scrutiny of the BIA and all their friends in the media. Life would be dull if everyone just let us go about our business.”
“My contact mentioned money-laundering charges against you.” She looked at Don and came right out with it. She wanted to hear if his answer would be any less evasive and uninformative than John’s. And something about Don’s nonchalant attitude pushed her buttons and she wanted to see how he reacted under pressure.
“Load of bull. I used to own a chain of dry cleaners. We were laundering shirts, not money.” His grin challenged her to argue. “As you probably know, they didn’t find enough evidence to convict me of anything.”
“Don was found not guilty,” John cut in. “By a jury of his peers.”
“Not that I have any true peers, of course.”
“Don is by far the most arrogant of the Fairweathers.” John shot a wry glance at Constance.
“Which is saying quite a bit with you around,” Don retorted with a crinkly smile. “We keep each other on our toes.”
“That we do. One of my favorite things about the New Dawn is that I get to work with family every day.” John wrapped his arm around Don. “Sometimes it’s a challenge, but maybe that’s why I enjoy it so much.”
“You’d be bored if life was too easy. And neither of us knew there were so many of us. Some of them barely even knew they had Indian ancestry until John got them excited about this place. Now the kids are begging him to dig up some old songs and dances so they can compete in the big powwows.”
John shook his head. “Easier said than done. I vote that they just make up their own. Why does our culture have to be old and historic? Why can’t it be fresh and new?”
“Won’t win any prizes with that. The judges are traditional. We already have strikes against us because we don’t look like most people’s idea of an Indian.”
“Then people need to change their perceptions, don’t they, Constance.”
“I suppose they do.” How did he always charm her into agreeing with him? She really didn’t have an opinion of any kind on the matter. She did think it was sweet how John obviously worked hard to create a sense of community, and was paying a fortune to academics to dig up the Nissequot tribe’s shared history. “And if anyone can do that, it’s you.”
She blushed, realizing that she’d just praised him in front of his uncle. Don’s eyebrows rose a tad. Did he suspect anything between her and John? That would be disastrous. Don Fairweather was something of a loose cannon, aside from his dubious reputation. “I really must get back to the offices.”
“I’ll ride up with you.” John’s low voice gave the innocent offer a suggestive tone.
“Actually, I need to get something from my car first.” She didn’t want Don to see them disappearing together.
John wouldn’t tell Don about their liaison, would he? She really didn’t know. Don was his uncle and they were obviously close. She reminded herself that she barely knew John at all. She nodded to them primly and hustled toward the lobby. She didn’t actually need anything from her car but she’d fiddle around in there for a minute or so. Anything to get away from John’s dark, seductive gaze.
She futzed around with her bag on the passenger seat for a moment, then pulled it out and closed the car door. She turned toward the casino and gasped when she found John right in front of her.
“I’m not letting you sneak off.”
“I wasn’t trying to sneak off.” She lifted her chin. “I was getting my phone charger.”
“Oh.” His smile suggested that he knew it was a ruse. “You looked like you were running away from something.”
“Your uncle Don doesn’t know about...us, does he?”
John shrugged. “I haven’t told him anything. Even if he figured it out, he’d be discreet. He’s got enough skeletons in his own closet that he’s not going to throw open the door to anyone else’s.”
Why was that not at all reassuring? “I don’t think we should walk back in together.”
“Why not?” He looked a little put out. “I’m the CEO of the place. I hardly think it’s inappropriate of me to escort the forensic accountant up to the offices.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Even if I do know how she looks without her clothes on.”
Constance sucked in a breath. Heat flushed her entire body and she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or lust. It didn’t really matter. Neither was at all helpful right now.
“You’re incorrigible.” Luckily there was no one else around.
“I know. It’s an affliction. Do you think you can cure me?”
“I doubt it. I also have no intention of trying.” She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “And I have work to do.”
“Let’s go.” He led the way, then waited for her to catch up so they could enter the lobby together. She held her chin high, self-conscious as she walked with him through the public space. The staff all knew who she was by now. Did they suspect anything? She felt so different than she had even yesterday, it was hard to imagine that she could still look the same from the outside.
When they reached the office, John ushered her in, then followed her and closed the door. She heard the lock click and felt his arm reach around her waist and her backside crushed up against his hard form.
“Constance, you’re making me crazy.”
She tried to hide her smile. “Maybe you were crazy already.”
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me.”
“I can’t imagine that I’ve done anything.” His big hand splayed over her belly, where all kinds of sensations churned. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And I keep distracting you.” His lips brushed her neck and heat flickered low inside her.
“Yes. Very much so.”
“I think you needed some distraction.” His low voice sent a rumble of desire to her toes.
“So I’ll be unable to properly investigate your books? You’ll make me think you’re trying to hide something.”
“Maybe there is something I’m trying to hide.” His voice contained more than a hint of suggestion, and she felt his erection jostle against her. She was slightly appalled by how arousing that was. What had happened to her since she met John Fairweather? It was as though a switch had turned on inside her. Now energy coursed through her veins whenever she was around him. Her mind strayed in previously forbidden directions and her body ached to do all kinds of things that she knew were wrong.
“What are we doing?” she asked in a half whisper.
His mouth played below her ear, heating her skin. “I think I’m kissing your neck.”
“This is foolish.”
“I won’t argue with you.” He went back to kissing her neck. Her nipples were starting to tingle.
“So shouldn’t we stop?”
His mouth worked its way up to her ear and he nibbled softly on her earlobe, which sent a surprising surge of sensation to her core. “Definitely not.”
He spun her around and kissed her full on the mouth. Her lips parted to welcome him and she felt her arms wrap enthusiastically around him without her permission. They kissed for a solid ten minutes, until she was in a thoroughly befuddled state. Then he excused himself with a polite nod and left her all alone, in a state of agonizing arousal, with nothing but ledger books for company.
She stared at the door. What a nerve! Now he had her all worked up and he’d waltzed off? He hadn’t even said where he was going or when he’d be back. How could she work now that he’d left her with blood pounding in every part of her body other than her brain?
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly seven o’clock. She’d wasted most of the afternoon seeing nothing downstairs. Except for Don Fairweather swiping those chips off the table.
Of course she’d seen him put chips down to bet, so nothing truly suspicious had happened, but wasn’t it rather a conflict of interest for him to gamble in the tribe’s own casino? He wasn’t involved in the day-to-day operations on the floor. He did publicity and booked the bands, but he was obviously fairly intimate with all the other workers. She’d noticed his jovial exchanges with at least half a dozen employees on the floor. Which was hardly proof of wrongdoing.
She heaved a sigh of relief to find that thinking about Don helped dissipate the fog of passion that John had left her in. She turned to the computer and had a look through the entries from a year ago. There was no point in looking at new data, since everyone knew she was here so any would-be crooks would be on their best behavior. As usual everything seemed to add up.
Often with forensic accounting she wasn’t looking for overt proof of wrongdoing. White-collar criminals were usually smart and knew how to cover their tracks. She had to look closely to find tiny holes or data that was just a little different from the norm. Then she at least had a clue for somewhere to stick in her shovel and start digging. So far she’d had no luck. Every time she’d thought she found an interesting anomaly, it had turned out to be a dead end.
On instinct she decided to look for internal records of tribal members gambling. They were easy enough to find in the casino databases, which were very well organized and clearly labeled, probably by John himself. Don wasn’t the only member who gambled, but he was by far the heaviest gambler. Someone called Mona Lester had some losses, and an Anna Martin had some small winnings, but Don had won more than fifty thousand dollars last year. Could he be up to something, or was he just lucky?
The door clicked open and John appeared again. She closed the spreadsheet window with a flash of guilt. Which was ridiculous. He knew she was here to dig into the files, so she was hardly going behind his back. Still, it felt wrong to kiss a man then go looking for fraud in his own computer system.
One more reason why this whole affair was a big mistake.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His sleek dark suit did nothing to conceal the raw masculinity of his body. Especially not now that she’d seen it naked. “You’re coming to my house for dinner.”
“You mean your suite.” Her response seemed easier than choosing to accept or decline his invitation. Not an invitation, really. More of a command.
“No, I mean my house. I’m just living in the suite while I renovate the old farmhouse. The kitchen’s finished, so I have everything I need to make dinner for you.”
“You can cook?”
“Absolutely.”
She blinked, not sure what to believe. Was there anything he couldn’t do? “I can’t really say no, then, can I?”
“Of course not.” He offered a hand to help her from her seat behind the desk.
She must be out of her mind. But, he could cook? That was pretty irresistible. And she could go back to her hotel right after dinner. “I’ll drive in my car.” Then she could take off any time she wanted.
“Sure. You can follow me.”
* * *
The road to his house was long and winding, an old farm road that led past his grandparents’ new house and through fields dotted with grazing cattle. Gnarled apple trees lined the drive and framed the austere form of John’s white farmhouse. A new cedar-shake roof gleamed gold in the lowering sun and stickers still ornamented the shiny new windows. A Dumpster filled with construction debris and a cement mixer were among the signs that a major renovation was still in progress.
“We stripped it right back to the old post-and-beam framing, and added stud walls and insulation. There’s almost nothing left of the original house, but it’s starting to look like it used to in its heyday. All the major work is done. Now they’re reinstalling the original woodwork. I should be back living here in a month or so.”
“It looks lovely.” She was surprised that a notorious bachelor like John would even want a big old house when he could be catered to by staff at his own luxury hotel.
“It’s coming together really well. I can’t wait to move in. I’m going to get a dog.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know yet. Something big. And cute. I’ll adopt it from a shelter.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ve always wanted a dog.”
“Why don’t you get one?”
“I need to move out of my parents’ house first. My mom doesn’t like them.”
He nodded. He must think it pathetic that she still lived at home with her parents at age twenty-seven. She needed to put moving out at the top of her goals for the coming year.
They walked up solid stone steps to the front door, which was still stripped bare of paint. John opened it and ushered her in. She glanced around his inner sanctum, taking in all the authentic details he’d had lovingly preserved.
“This house was built in 1837 by one of my ancestors. He and his sons handcrafted a lot of the woodwork themselves.”
She stroked a turned cherry bannister. “This must have been quite a labor of love before power tools became common.”
“All the more reason to restore it to its original beauty.” He led her into a bright kitchen with ivory cabinets and big center island. “Do you like shrimp?”
“Love it.”
“Good, because I’ve had it marinating since this morning.”
“You knew you were going to ask me over?”
“Of course.”
His arrogance should have been annoying. “What if I said I didn’t like shrimp? Or I was allergic.”
He shot her a cheeky smile. “I’ve got some chicken prepared as well.”
“You’re ready for anything, aren’t you?”
“I try to be.”
He grilled the shrimp and some corn on the cob outdoors, and they ate it with an elaborate salad they made together of feta cheese and pear tossed with spring greens. The million-dollar view from his bluestone patio looked over pastures and rolling wooded hills. Constance couldn’t remember a time she’d been anywhere so beautiful. Her own drab environs in an unprepossessing part of Cleveland were depressing by comparison. Yet soon she’d be back there, looking off the back porch over the weedy garden, remembering this delicious dinner and her dangerously charming host.
Dark clouds were gathering along the horizon as the sun disappeared behind the trees. Raindrops spotted the patio as they brought the plates back inside, and by the time they loaded them in the dishwasher, rain was pounding on the darkened windows.
While John brewed the fresh-ground coffee, thunderclaps boomed overhead. “You’d better wait until this stops.” Anticipation shimmered in his gaze.
She reached into her bag. “Let me check the satellite images on my phone to see how big the storm looks.”
“I already did. It’s going to continue all night.”
