Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | A High Stakes Seduction

A High Stakes Seduction
Jennifer Lewis
In USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Lewis's latest, love is a gamble between polar opposites…Meet Constance Allen: no-nonsense, by the books…innocent. The aboveboard accountant is on a mission to make sure the New Dawn casino's finances are legit, and maybe even get a promotion…until the millionaire owner seduces the socks off her. Now the conflict of interest threatens her very livelihood, yet she just can't help it!Blindsided, John Fairweather never expects a little flirting with the auditor to get so serious so fast. But when her investigation turns up a smoking gun, will all bets be off for their fledgling affair?



What was happening?
Her brain wouldn’t form thoughts at all, but her mouth had no trouble responding to his.
Heat rushed through Constance to her fingers, which were suddenly on the soft cotton of his shirt. She felt his hands on her back, his touch light and tender. His tongue met hers, sending a jolt of electricity to her toes.
The stubble on his chin scratched her skin slightly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their embrace. She dug her fingers into the roping muscle of his back, plucking at his shirt as their lips moved together.
A humming sound startled them both and they broke the kiss. “My phone,” he murmured in a low voice. He didn’t reach for it. Still frowning slightly, he raised a thumb and smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek.
She blinked, wondering what had just happened. And why? “I really must …” She wasn’t even sure what she really must do. Go to bed? Take a cold shower? Throw herself out the window?
Did he really just kiss her?

A High Stakes Seduction
Jennifer Lewis

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. She would love to hear from readers at jen@jenlewis.com (mailto:jen@jenlewis.com). Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com (http://www.jenlewis.com).
For Dwnell
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#ulink_ddb85de4-3ee2-5f3b-8f8a-1a09ef330db4)
Many thanks to my editor Charles Griemsman.
Contents
Cover (#u5ea4cf5a-1849-5802-978c-4812dbe690c4)
Excerpt (#uc0739d61-513b-52d2-bf9b-2feda7bc9940)
Title Page (#ubcdeb8a6-a7a2-56dd-80f8-a0b976b2f72c)
About the Author (#u282e8323-d436-5f40-b11d-e07ced390c96)
Dedication (#u7add2e91-f9fc-5d23-b30d-b5f92d7f00e1)
Acknowledgments (#uaf1b3220-c5b6-5cae-b14c-9c4e4115b11b)
One (#u87ac0b16-f69b-5de3-8a54-46f3018ef7b8)
Two (#u8befd686-210a-51fd-8537-30f95b1282d6)
Three (#u5ed7c8d1-0b0c-5a0e-9c4d-34c956696594)
Four (#ua081f8f0-641c-57fe-8c7a-0757b597647e)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_a0c79cb2-3a25-567e-b7a8-28072aebfb21)
“Just get rid of her as quickly as possible. She’s dangerous.”
John Fairweather scowled at his uncle. “You’re crazy. Stop thinking everyone’s out to get you.”
John didn’t want to admit it, but he too was rattled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs sending an accountant to snoop through New Dawn’s books. He glanced around the grand lobby of the hotel and casino. Smiling staff, gleaming marble floors, paying customers relaxing on big leather couches. There was nothing he didn’t love about this place. He knew everything was aboveboard, but still...
“John, you know as well as anyone that the U.S. government is no friend of the Indian.”
“I’m friendly with them. They gave us tribal recognition. We ran with it and built all this, didn’t we? You need to relax, Don. They’re just here to do a routine audit.”
“You think you’re such a big man with your Harvard degree and your Fortune 500 résumé. To them you’re just another Indian trying to stick his hand in Uncle Sam’s pocket.”
Irritation stirred in John’s chest. “My hand isn’t in anyone’s pocket. You’re as bad as the damn media. We built this business with a lot of hard work and we have just as much right to profit from it as I did from my software business. Where is she, anyway? I have a meeting with the contractor who’s working on my house.”
The front door opened and a young girl walked in. John glanced at his watch.
“I bet that’s her.” His uncle peered at the girl, who was carrying a briefcase.
“Are you kidding me? She doesn’t look old enough to vote.” Her eyes were hidden behind glasses. She stood in the foyer, looking disoriented.
“Flirt with her.” His uncle leaned in and whispered. “Give her some of the old Fairweather charm.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He watched as the woman approached the reception desk. The receptionist listened to her, then pointed at him. “Hey, maybe that is her.”
“I’m serious. Look at her. She’s probably never even kissed a man before,” Don hissed. “Flirt with her and get her all flustered. That will scare her off.”
“I wish I could scare you off. Get lost. She’s coming over here.”
Plastering a smile on his face, John walked toward her and extended his hand. “John Fairweather. You must be Constance Allen.”
He shook her hand, which was small and soft. Weak handshake. She seemed nervous. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fairweather.”
“You can call me John.”
She wore a loose-fitting blue summer suit with an ivory blouse. Her hair was pinned up in a bun of some kind. Up close she still looked young and was kind of pretty. “I’m sorry I’m late. I took the wrong exit off the turnpike.”
“No worries. Have you been to Massachusetts before?”
“This is my first time.”
“Welcome to our state, and to the tribal lands of the Nissequot.” Some people thought it was cheesy when he said that, but it always gave him a good feeling. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No! No, thank you.” She glanced at the bar, looking horrified, as if he’d just thrust a glass of neat whiskey at her.
“I mean a cup of tea, or a coffee.” He smiled. It would to be quite a challenge to put her at ease. “Some of our customers like to drink during the day because they’re here for fun and relaxation. Those of us who work here are much more dull and predictable.” He noticed with chagrin that his uncle Don was still standing behind him. “Oh, and this is my uncle, Don Fairweather.”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose before shoving out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Don’t be so sure, John wanted to tease. But this was a business meeting. “Let me take you up to the offices, Ms. Allen. Don, could you do me a favor and see if the ballroom is set up for the Shriners’ conference tonight?”
His uncle glared at him, but moved off in the right direction. John heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t always easy working with family, but in the end it was worth the hassle. “Let me take your briefcase. It looks heavy.”
“Oh, no. I’m fine.” She jerked away as he reached toward her. She was jumpy.
“Don’t worry. We don’t bite. Well, not much, anyway.” Maybe he should flirt with her. She needed someone to loosen her straitjacket.
Now that he’d got a better look at her, he could see she wasn’t quite as young as he’d first assumed. She was petite but had a determined expression that showed she took her job—and herself—very seriously. That gave him a perverse urge to ruffle her feathers.
He glanced at her as they headed for the elevators. “Is it okay if I call you Constance?”
She looked doubtful. “Okay.”
“I do hope you’ll enjoy your time at New Dawn, even though you’re here to work. There’s a live show in the Quinnikomuk room at seven and you’re most welcome to come see it.”
“I’m sure I won’t have time.” Mouth pursed, she stood and stared at the elevator doors as they waited.
“And your meals are on the house, of course. Our chef used to work at the Rainbow Room, so our food here is as good as any fancy restaurant in Manhattan.” He loved being able to brag about that. “And you might want to reconsider about the show. Tonight’s performer is Mariah Carey. Tickets have been sold out for months.”
The elevator opened and she rushed in. “You’re very kind, Mr. Fairweather—”
“Please call me John.”
“But I’m here to do my job and it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to enjoy...perks.” She pushed her glasses up her nose again. The way she pursed her lips made him think how funny it would be to kiss them. They were nice lips. Plump and curvy.
“Perks? I’m not trying to bribe you, Constance. I’m just proud of what we’ve built here at New Dawn, and I like to share it with as many people as possible. Is that so wrong?”
“I really don’t have an opinion.”
* * *
When they arrived at the floor with the offices, Constance hurried out of the elevator. Something about John Fairweather made her feel very uncomfortable. He was a big man, broad shouldered and imposing, and even the large elevator felt oddly small when she was trapped in there with him.
She glanced around the hallway, not sure which way to go. Being late had her flustered. She’d planned to be here half an hour early but she’d taken the wrong exit ramp and gotten lost and—
“This way, Constance.” He smiled and held out his hand but withdrew it after she ignored him. She wished he’d turn off the phony charm. His sculpted features and flashing dark eyes had no effect on her.
“How do you like our state so far?”
Again with the charm. He thought he was pretty hot stuff. “I really haven’t seen anything but the highway medians, so I’m not too sure.”
He laughed. “We’ll have to fix that.” He opened the door to a large open-plan office space. Four of the five cubicles she could see were empty, and doors stood open to the offices around the walls. “This is the nerve center of the operation.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Down on the floor. We all spend time serving the customers. That’s the heart of our business. Katy here answers the phones and does all the filing.” He introduced her to a pretty brunette in a pink blouse. “You’ve met Don, who’s in charge of promotion and publicity. Stew handles building operations, so he’s probably out there fixing something. Rita is in charge of IT and she’s in Boston looking at some new servers. I handle all the accounting myself.” He smiled at her. “So I can show you the books.”
Great. He shot her a warm glance that did something really irritating to her stomach. He was obviously used to having women eat out of his hand. Lucky thing she was immune to that kind of nonsense. “Why don’t you hire someone to do the accounts? Aren’t you busy being the CEO?”
“I’m CFO and CEO. I take pride in managing all the financial aspects of the business myself. Or maybe I just don’t trust anyone else.” He flashed even white teeth. “The buck stops here.” He tapped the front of his smart suit with a broad finger.
Interesting. She felt as if he’d thrown down a gauntlet and challenged her to find something wrong with the books. She liked that he took personal responsibility.
“It’s a family-run business. Many of the people in the office are tribal members. We also outsource to other local businesses—printing, web design, custodial services, that kind of thing. We like to support the whole community.”
“Where is the community? I booked a room at the Cozy Suites, which seemed to be the nearest motel, but I didn’t see it as I drove up here.”
He smiled. “The nearest town is Barnley, but don’t worry. We’ll set you up in a comfortable room here. We’re booked to capacity, but I’m sure the front desk can figure something out.”
“I’d really rather stay elsewhere. As I said, it’s important to be objective.”
“I can’t see how where you stay would affect your objectivity.” Those dark eyes peered at her. “You don’t seem like the type to be swayed by flattery and pampering. I’m sure you’re far too principled for that.”
“Yes, indeed,” she said much too fast. “I’d never let anything affect my judgment.”
“And one of the nice things about numbers is that they never lie.” He held her gaze. She didn’t look away, even though her heart was thudding and her breath getting shallow. Who did he think he was, to stare at her like that?
She finally looked away first, feeling as if she’d lost a skirmish. Never mind, she’d win the war. The numbers themselves might not lie, but the people reporting them certainly could. She’d seen some pretty tricky manipulations since she’d gone into forensic accounting. The BIA had hired her accounting firm, Creighton Waterman, to investigate the New Dawn’s books. She was here to make sure the casino was reporting profits and income accurately and that no one had skimmed anything off the top.
She braced herself to meet his gaze again. “I specialize in looking beneath the shiny rows of numbers that companies put in their annual reports. You’d be surprised what turns up when you start digging.”
Or would he? She was looking forward to getting her fingers on last year’s cash-flow data and comparing it with the printed reports. She wouldn’t have time to look at every single number, of course, but she’d soon get a sense of whether there was fudging going on.
“The Nissequot tribe welcomes your scrutiny.” His grin did something annoying to her insides again. “I’m confident you’ll be satisfied with the results.”
He gestured for her to walk into one of the offices. She hurried ahead, half-afraid he was going to usher her in with one of his big hands. The office was large but utilitarian. A big leather chair sat behind the desk, and two more in front of it. A New Dawn wall calendar was the only decoration. Annual report brochures from the last three years sat on the big, polished wood desk, and filing cabinets lined one wall. A round table with four chairs sat in one corner. The realization crept over her that this was his personal office. He pulled open a drawer. “Daily cash register receipts, arranged by date. I add up all the figures myself first thing every morning.”
He rested a hand on the most recent annual report, fingers pressing into the shiny cover. Such large hands weren’t quite decent. He certainly didn’t look like any CFO she’d encountered. All the more reason to be suspicious.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He looked at the chair—his chair. She had to brush right past him to get to it, which made her skin hum and prickle with an unpleasant sensation. Worse yet, he pulled up another chair and sat down right next to her. He opened the most recent brochure, which had a picture of a spreading oak tree on the cover, and pointed at the profit data at the top of the first page. “You’ll see we’re not kidding around here at New Dawn.”
Forty-one million in net profits was no joke, for sure. “I’ve seen the annual reports already. It’s really the raw data I’m interested in.”
He pulled out a laptop from the desk drawer and punched up a few pages. “The passwords change weekly, so I’ll keep you posted, but this account information will get you right into our daily operation. You should be able to look up and analyze any data you need.”
Her eyes widened as he clicked through a few screens and she saw he was letting her peek right at the daily intake and outflow.
Of course the numbers could be fudged. But she was impressed by how quickly he could click from screen to screen with those big fingers. They were large enough to hit two keys at once. Was he wearing cologne? Maybe it was just deodorant. His scent kept creeping into her nose. His dark gray suit did nothing to conceal the masculine bulk of his body, which was all the more evident now that he was sitting only inches from her.
“These documents here are monthly reports I do of all our activities. If anything unusual happened, I make a note of it.”
“How do you mean, unusual?” It was a relief to distract herself from noticing the tiny dark hairs dusted across the back of his powerful hands.
“Someone winning a suspiciously large amount. Anyone who gets banned, complaints from the public or from staff. I believe in paying close attention to the small details so the big ones don’t take you by surprise.”
“That sounds sensible.” She smiled. Why? She had no idea.
Just being professional. Or so she hoped. He’d smiled at her, flashing those dazzling white teeth, and her face had just mirrored his without her permission.
She stiffened. This man knew he was having an effect on her. “Why do you produce annual reports when you’re not a public company?”
“I don’t answer to investors like a public company, but I have a greater responsibility. I answer to the Nissequot people.”
From what she’d read on the internet, the Nissequot tribe was mostly his immediate family, and the entire reservation was a creative interpretation of local history for the sole purpose of pursuing a very profitable business venture. “How many of you are there?”
“We’ve got two hundred people living here now. A few years ago, there were only four of us. In five years’ time I’m hoping we’ll number in the thousands.” There was that smile again.
She jerked her eyes back to the screen. “It probably isn’t too hard to persuade people to come when you’re offering a cut of forty-one million dollars.”
His silence made her look up. He was staring right at her with those penetrating eyes. “We don’t give individuals any handouts. We encourage tribal members to come here to live and work. Any profits are held in trust for the entire tribe and fund community initiatives.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you.” She swallowed. “I didn’t mean to.” She felt flustered. The last thing she wanted to do was put him on the defensive.
“I’m not offended at all.” He didn’t smile, but looked at her pleasantly. “And maybe we could build the tribe faster if we just handed out checks, but I’d rather attract people more slowly and organically because they want to be here.”
“Quite understandable.” She tried to smile. She wasn’t sure it was convincing. Something about John Fairweather rattled her. He was so...handsome. She wasn’t used to being around men like him. The guys in her office were mostly introverted and out of shape from sitting hunched over their computers all day long. John Fairweather obviously spent a good amount of time at his desk, judging from all the material he’d showed her, but somehow—tan and sturdy as the oak tree on the cover of his annual report—he looked more like someone who spent all day outdoors.
“Are you okay?”
She jerked herself out of the train of irrelevant thoughts. “Maybe a cup of tea would be a good idea, after all.”
* * *
Constance lay in her bed at the Cozy Suites Motel, staring at the outline of the still ceiling fan in the dark. Her brain wouldn’t settle down enough for sleep but she knew she needed to rest so she could focus on all those numbers at the casino tomorrow. She wanted to impress her boss so she could ask for a raise and put a down payment on a house. It was time to move out from under her parents’ wing.
It was one thing to move back home to save money after college. It was another entirely to still be there six years later, when she was earning a decent salary and could afford to go out on her own. Part of it was that she needed to meet a man. If she was in a normal relationship with a nice, sensible man, a practiced charmer like John Fairweather would have no effect on her, no matter how broad his shoulders were.
Her parents thought almost everyone on earth was a sinner who should be shunned. You’d think she’d told them she was planning to gamble all her savings away at the craps tables the way they’d reacted when she announced she was going to Massachusetts to look into the books of a casino. She’d tried to explain that it was a big honor to be chosen by her firm to undertake an important assignment from a government agency. They’d simply reiterated all their old cautions about consorting with evildoers and reminded her that she could have a perfectly good job at the family hardware store.
She didn’t want to spend her life mixing paint. She tried to be a good daughter, but she was smart and wanted to make the most of what natural talents she had. If that meant traveling across state lines and consorting with a few sinners, then so be it.
Besides, she was here to root out wrongdoing at the casino. She was the good guy in this situation. She shifted onto her side, trying to block out the thin green light from the alarm clock on the bedside table. If only she could get her brain to switch off. Or at least quiet down.
A high-pitched alarm made her jump and sit up in bed. Something in the ceiling started to flash, almost blinding her. She groped for the switch on her bedside light but couldn’t find it. The shrieking sound tore at her nerves.
What’s going on? She managed to find her glasses, then climbed out of bed and groped her way to the wall light switch, only to discover that it didn’t work. The digital display on the clock radio numbers had gone out.
A jet of water strafed her, making her gasp and splutter. The overhead sprinkler. A fire? She ran for the door, then she realized that she needed her briefcase with her laptop and wallet in it. She’d just managed to find it by the closet, feeling her way through the unfamiliar space illuminated only by the intermittent blasts of light from the alarm, when she smelled smoke.
Adrenaline snapping through her, Constance grabbed her briefcase and ran for the door. The chain was on and it took her a few agonizing seconds to get it free. Out on the second-floor walkway of the motel, she could see other guests emerging from their rooms into the night. Smoke billowed out of an open door two rooms away.
She’d forgotten to bring shoes. Or any clothes. She was more or less decent in her pajamas, but she could hardly go anywhere like this. Should she go back in and get some? Someone behind her coughed as the night breeze carried thick black smoke through the air. She could hear a child crying inside a room nearby.
On instinct she yelled, “Fire!” and—clutching her briefcase to her chest—ran along the corridor away from the fire, pounding on each door and telling the people to get out. Had someone called the fire department? More people were coming out of their rooms now. She helped a family with three small children get their toddlers down the stairs to the ground floor. Was everyone safe?
She heard someone calling 911. She rushed back up the stairs to help an elderly couple who were struggling to find their footing in the smoky darkness. Then she ran along the corridor and banged on any doors that were still closed. What if people were still in there? She hoped that the sirens and lights would have flushed everyone out by now, but...
A surge of relief swept over her as she saw fire engines pull into the parking lot. It wasn’t long before the firemen had finished evacuating the building and moved everyone to the far end of the parking lot. They trained their hoses on the fire, but whenever the flames and smoke died down in one area, they sprang up in another.
“It’s a tinderbox,” muttered a man standing behind her. “All that carpet and curtains and bedspreads. Deadly toxic smoke, too.”
Soon the entire motel complex—about twenty rooms—was ablaze and they had to move farther back to escape the heat and smoke. Constance and the other guests stood there in their pajamas, watching in stunned disbelief.
At some point she realized she’d put her briefcase down while helping people out, and she had no idea where it was. It had her almost-new laptop in it, her phone and all the notes she’d made in preparation for her assignment. Most of the information was backed up somewhere, but putting it all back together would be a nightmare. And her wallet with her driver’s license and credit cards! She started to wander around in the darkness, scanning the wet ground for it.
“You can’t go there, miss. Too dangerous.”
“But my bag. It has all my important documents in it that I need for work.” Her voice sounded whiny and pathetic as she scanned the tarmac of the parking lot. The fire glowed along almost the entire roof of the motel, and acrid smoke stung her nostrils. What if she didn’t find her bag? Or if it got soaked through?
“Constance.”
She jerked her gaze up and realized John Fairweather was standing in front of her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m a volunteer firefighter. Are you cold? We have some blankets on the truck.”
“I’m fine.” She fought the urge to glance down at her pajamas. How embarrassing for him to see her in them, though it was pretty selfish and shallow of her to be thinking about how she looked at a time like this. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You could try to calm down the other guests. Tell them we’ll find room for everyone at the New Dawn hotel. My uncle Don’s driving over here in a van to pick everyone up.”
“Oh. That’s great.” She’d made quite a fuss about not staying there. Now apparently she would be anyway.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of dazed. Maybe you should be treated for smoke inhalation.” His concerned gaze raked over her face. “Come sit down over here.”
“I’m fine! Really. I was one of the first ones out. I’ll go talk to people.” She realized she was flapping her hands around.
John hesitated for a moment, then nodded and hurried off to help someone unfurl a hose. She stood staring after him for a moment. His white T-shirt shone in the flashing lights from the fire trucks, accentuating his broad shoulders.
Constance Allen, there is something very, very wrong with you that you are noticing John Fairweather’s physique at a moment like this. She picked her way barefoot over the wet and gritty tarmac to where the other guests stood in a confused straggle. One little girl was crying, and an older lady was shivering even under a blanket. She explained that a local hotel had offered them all rooms and that a bus would be coming to fetch anyone who couldn’t drive there.
People realized they’d left their car keys locked in their rooms, and that started a rumbling about everything else they’d lost and only intensified Constance’s own anxiety about her briefcase and all her clothes, including a nice new suit she’d just bought. She tried to soothe them with platitudes. At least no one was hurt. That was a big thing to be grateful for.
Still, she didn’t have her car keys, either. If she’d flown here and rented the car she could have just called the rental agency. But she’d decided to be adventurous and driven her own car all the way here, so now she couldn’t even get into it. She was starting to feel teary and pathetic when she felt a hand on her arm.
“I found your bag. You left it at the bottom of the stairs.” John Fairweather stood beside her, holding her briefcase, which dripped water onto the tarmac.
She gasped and took it from his hand, then noticed with joy that it was still sealed shut. “You shouldn’t have gone back over there.” The fire was now out, but the balcony and stairs were badly damaged and collapsing.
John’s T-shirt was streaked with soot. “You shouldn’t have brought it with you. We firefighters hate it when people retrieve stuff before escaping.”
“My...my laptop.” She clutched the handle tightly. Tears really threatened now that she had her bag back. “It has everything on it.”
“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. I’d have a hard time leaving my laptop behind even after all the training I’ve had.” His warm smile soothed the panic and embarrassment that churned inside her. She felt his big hand on her back. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”
Her skin heated under his unwelcome touch, but she didn’t want to be ungracious after he’d found her bag and offered her a place to stay. The flashing lights from the fire trucks hurt her eyes. “My car keys are gone.”
“We’ll get you another set tomorrow. I’ll drive you back in my car.” His broad hand still on her back, he guided her through the crowd toward his vehicle. Oh, dear. Even amid all the chaos, her skin heated beneath his palm as if she was still too close to the flames.
And now she was going to be trapped in his glitzy hotel in nothing but her pajamas.
Two (#ulink_84365048-30c0-51b3-abf1-85f90438b2b5)
“We were lucky the motel had a good fire alarm system.” John steered his big black truck down a winding back road. “It went up fast. Everyone got out, though.”
“That’s a relief. I’m glad the firefighters got there quickly and had time to check all the rooms. How long have you been a volunteer?”
“Oh, I joined the first moment they let me.” He turned and grinned. “More than fifteen years ago now. When I was a kid I wanted to be a firefighter.”
He should have become one. Much better than a gambling impresario. On the other hand, her strict upbringing had formed her distaste for gambling, but now that she was here it didn’t seem so different from any other business. She admired how John had pitched in and done anything and everything he could to help. He was thoughtful, too, talking to the other evacuees and reassuring them that the hotel staff would help them track down car keys, clothes and things like that in the morning. There was certainly no need for him to have offered everyone rooms at the hotel. He was being very generous. “What changed your mind?”
He shrugged. “I discovered I had a head for business. And at the time I was glad to leave this quiet backwater behind. I got seduced by the bright lights of the big city.”
“New York?”
“Boston. I’ve never lived outside of the great state of Massachusetts. After a while, though, I started to miss the old homestead. And that’s around the time I cooked up the whole casino idea. But when I came back I signed right on with the fire department again.” His disarming grin cracked her defenses again. “They missed me. No one can unfurl or roll up a hose as fast as me.”
“I’m sure they appreciate the help. But there don’t seem to be too many people around here.” They were driving through dark woods, not a house in sight. The area around the casino was very rural.
“Nope. That doesn’t seem to stop fires breaking out, though. Last week an abandoned barn caught fire out in the middle of nowhere. We had to pump water from an old ice pond to put it out. Could have set the whole woods on fire, especially right now when everything’s so dry.”
It was early summer. Not that she really noticed the changing seasons much from the inside of her pale gray cubicle.
As they continued driving, she could see the pearl-white moon flashing through black tree branches. The woods were beautiful at night.
“I think it’s nice that you find the time to volunteer when you’re so busy with the casino.” There. She’d said it. She’d been a little short with him this afternoon and now she felt bad about it.
“I enjoy it. I’d go crazy sitting behind a desk all the time. I like to have my hands on as many things as possible.”
One of those hands was resting on the wheel. For one breath-quickening instant she imagined it resting on her thigh.
She crossed her legs and jerked her gaze back to the moon, only to find it had disappeared behind the trees altogether. What was wrong with her? His hand was filthy from fighting the fire, for one thing. And she would rather die than let a business client touch her.
Not that he’d want to anyway. She’d seen the gossip-column pictures of him with all those glamorous women. A different one every week, from the looks of it. He’d hardly be interested in a frumpy accountant from Cleveland.
She let out a sharp exhale, then realized it was audible.
“Fires are stressful, but don’t worry too much. Everything you lost can be replaced. That’s the thing to remember.”
She turned to him, startled. She hadn’t even given a thought to all her burned-up stuff. Clearly she was losing her mind. “You’re so right. They were just things.”
They drove in silence for a minute.
“It’s a shame you missed Mariah Carey. She was awesome.” He turned and smiled.
“I’m sure she was.” She couldn’t help smiling back. Which was getting really annoying.
“What kind of music do you like?”
“I don’t really listen to music.” She shifted in her seat. Why did they have to talk about her?
“None?” She felt his curious gaze on her. “There must be some kind of music you like.”
She shrugged. “My dad didn’t allow most music in the house.”
“Now that’s a crime. Not even gospel music?”
“No. He thought singing was a waste of time.” She frowned. Gaining maturity had given her a perspective on her father’s views that made living in the house difficult. What was wrong with a little music? He thought even classical music was an enticement to sin and debauchery. Sometimes her friend Lynn drove them both to lunch and they listened to the radio on the way. She was surprised by how some tunes made her want to tap her toes.
She noticed with relief that they were pulling into the casino parking lot.
“So what did your family do for fun?”
Fun? They didn’t believe in fun. “We didn’t have too much time on our hands. They run a hardware store, so there’s always something to do.”
“I guess organizing rivets made accounting seem like an exciting escape.” He grinned at her.
She bristled with irritation, then realized he was right. “I suppose it did.” He pulled into a parking space in front of New Dawn, then jumped out of the car and managed to open her door before she even got her seat belt undone. There was no way to avoid taking his offered hand without being rude, and she didn’t want to be obnoxious since he was going out of his way to help her. But when she did, his palm pressed hotly against hers and made all kinds of weird sensations scatter through her body.
Get a grip on yourself! Mercifully he let go of her hand as they paused at a back door to the hotel block and he unlocked it with a key. She was grateful not to have to walk through the glittering lobby in her pj’s.
Then he put his arm around her shoulders.
Her skin tingled and heated through the thin fabric of her pajama top. What was he thinking? He was talking and she really couldn’t hear a word. He probably thought this was a warm and encouraging gesture for someone who’d been through a traumatic experience. He couldn’t have any idea that she hadn’t had a man’s arm around her in years and that the feeling of it was doing something very unsettling to her emotions.
His arm was big and heavy. He was so much taller than she that he simply draped it casually across her shoulders as if he was resting it. Then he squeezed her shoulders gently.
“Right?”
“What?” She had no idea what he’d just asked.
“You still seem kind of dazed, Constance. Are you sure you didn’t get concussed or something?” He paused and pulled his arm from around her shoulders so he could peer into her eyes. “You look all right, but these things can sneak up on you. Maybe we should call for the nurse. We have one on staff here, to look after any guests who need attention.” They were standing next to an elevator and he pressed the button.
“I’m fine, really! Just tired.” She spoke a bit too loudly, then peered imploringly up at the digital display, only to find that the elevator was three floors away.
“No problem.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and made a call. “Hi, Ramon. Is six seventy-five ready yet?” He nodded, then winked at her. Winked? It was probably just some friendly indication that the room was indeed ready. Her social skills were rather limited, since she only interacted with accountants. Still, it made her heart start racing as if she’d run a marathon.
She didn’t know why, either. Yes, he was handsome. Tall, dark, all the usual stuff. But right now she was tired and stressed out and if she was anywhere near as dirty as he was she must look very unattractive, so he certainly wasn’t flirting with her.
The elevator doors opened and she darted in and pressed the button for six. He strolled in after her. She focused her gaze on the numbers over the door as the elevator rose. He didn’t say a word, but his very presence seemed to hum. There was something...unnerving about him, something that made her hyperaware of his presence.
When the elevator doors opened, she leaped out and glanced about, trying to figure out which way to go. She jumped slightly when she felt his fingers in the hollow of her back.
“This way.” He guided her down the hallway. She walked as fast as she could and his fingers fell away, which made her sigh with relief. He didn’t mean anything by it; he probably didn’t even notice he was touching her. He was one of those overly friendly types who hugged everyone—she’d noticed that after the fire. All she had to do was get into her room, shower, get some sleep and she could deal with everything else in the morning.
He pulled a key card from his pocket and unlocked the door. The spacious hotel room beckoned her like an oasis—crisp white sheets, closed ivory curtains, soothing art with images of the countryside. “This looks amazing.”
“I’ll need to get your clothes from you so we can wash them.”
She glanced down. Her pj’s were smudged with soot. “I’m going to need some real clothes for tomorrow.”
“What size are you? I’ll have one of the girls find something for you.”
She swallowed. Telling John Fairweather her dress size seemed dangerously intimate. “I think I’m a six.” And what would he tell them to buy? “Something conservative, please. And I’ll pay for it, of course.”
He grinned. “Did you think I’d ask them to pick out something racy?”
“No, of course not.” Her cheeks heated. “You don’t know me well, that’s all.”
“I’m getting to know you. And I’m getting to like you, too. You stayed calm during the fire and were very helpful. You’d be surprised how many people lose their heads.”
She fought a burst of pride. “I’m a calm person. Very dull, in fact.”
His dark eyes peered into hers. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re not dull at all.”
Her mouth formed a silent oh. Silence—and something bigger—lingered in the air. Panic flickered in her chest. “I’d better get some sleep. I have a headache.” The lie would probably give her a forked tongue, but she was on edge and John Fairweather was not helping her sanity.
“Of course. You can leave your clothes outside the door. There’s a laundry bag in the closet.”
“Great.” She managed a polite smile, or was it a grimace? Her body sagged with relief as his big, broad-shouldered presence disappeared through the door and it closed quietly behind him.
* * *
Constance showered and washed her hair with rose-scented shampoo. The luxurious marble bathroom was well stocked with everything she needed, including a comb and a blow-dryer. She dressed in the soft terry robe with New Dawn embroidered in turquoise on the pocket. She’d put her dirty pajamas in a laundry bag outside the door for the hotel staff to pick up. Her briefcase had mercifully kept her laptop and important papers dry, so she’d emptied it and put it on a luggage rack to dry out. There was nothing more she could do for now. Hopefully she could relax enough to get some sleep.
But as soon as she laid her head on the cool, soft pillow, she heard a knock on the door. She sat up. “Coming.” It was very late for someone to knock. Maybe the hotel staff had a question about the bag she’d left outside the door. Or maybe they’d already found her something to wear tomorrow?
She took the latch off the door and opened it a crack...to reveal the large bulk of John Fairweather blocking the light from the hallway.
“I brought you some aspirin.” He held up a glass, then opened his other palm to reveal a tiny sachet of some painkiller that actually wasn’t aspirin at all.
“Oh.” She’d forgotten about her “headache.” With considerable reluctance, she opened the door wider. “That’s very kind of you.” She took the pills from his hand, making sure not to touch him.
“And I brought you some clothes from the gift shop downstairs. It’s lucky we’re open twenty-four hours.” She noticed a shiny bag under his arm.
“Thanks.” She reached out for it, only to find that he’d already walked past her into the room. She shook her head and tried not to smile. He wasn’t shy, that’s for sure. Of course, it was his hotel.
“Did you find everything you need?” He put the bag down on the desk and turned to her with his hands on his hips. “It’s not too late for room service. There’s someone in the kitchen all night.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
John had also showered and changed. He wore dark athletic pants and a clean white T-shirt that had creases as if it was right out of the package, except that the creases were now being stretched out by the thick muscles of his broad chest. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, emphasizing his bold features and those penetrating eyes.
She blinked and headed for the shopping bag. Before she got there, he picked up the bag and reached into it himself. He pulled out a blue wrap dress with long sleeves. It looked like something she’d wear to a cocktail party. “We don’t really have office attire in the guest shop.”
“It’s lovely and very kind of you to bring it.” Now please leave.
“And we found some sandals that almost match.” He pulled out a pair of dark blue glittery sandals and looked at her with a wry grin. “Not exactly the right look for the office, but better than being barefoot, right?”
She had to laugh. “My boss would have a heart attack.”
“We won’t tell him.”
“It’s a her.”
“We won’t tell her, either.” He looked at her for a moment, eyes twinkling, then frowned slightly. “You look totally different with your hair down.”
Her hands flew to her hair. At least she’d blow-dried it. “I know. I don’t ever wear it down.”
“Why not? It’s pretty. You’re pretty.”
She blinked. This was totally unprofessional. Of course, nothing about this situation was professional. She was standing here in her bathrobe—in his bathrobe—in his hotel that she’d explicitly said she wouldn’t stay in. And now he was giving her gratuitous compliments? “Thanks.”
She felt that stupid smile creeping over her mouth again. Why did this man have such an effect on her? Think about computational volatility in Excel spreadsheets. Imagine him cheating on his taxes. Imagine him...
Her imagination failed her as his mouth lowered hotly over hers.
Heat rushed through her, to her fingers, which were suddenly on the soft cotton of his T-shirt. She felt his hands on her back, his touch light and tender. His tongue met hers, sending a jolt of electricity to her toes. Oh, goodness. What was happening? Her brain wouldn’t form thoughts at all, but her mouth had no trouble responding to his.
The stubble on his chin scratched her skin slightly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their embrace. As her chest bumped against his, her nipples were pressed into the rough texture of the bathrobe and sensation crashed through her. She dug her fingers into the roping muscle of his back, plucking at his T-shirt as their mouths moved together.
A humming sound startled them both and they broke the kiss. “My phone,” he murmured, low. He didn’t reach for it. Still frowning slightly, he raised a thumb and smoothed a strand of hair from Constance’s cheek.
She blinked, wondering what had just happened. And why? “I really must...” She wasn’t even sure what she really must do. Go to bed? Take a cold shower? Throw herself out the window? Heat darted through her body, and she didn’t know how much longer her knees would hold her up without his strong arms around her.
“Take your aspirin. I’ll see you in the morning.” He hesitated, phone still vibrating in his pocket. An expression of confusion crossed his face and he shoved a hand through his wet hair. “I’ll call a local dealership about replacing your car keys first thing.”
“Thanks.” The word was barely audible, but it was a miracle she managed to force it out at all. He walked backward a couple of steps, gaze still riveted on hers, before he nodded a goodbye and strode to the door.
As it slid quietly shut behind him, she stood there, mouth open, knees still trembling. Had he really just kissed her? It didn’t seem possible. Maybe she’d imagined it. In fact, maybe she’d dreamed up this whole crazy scenario while sleeping fitfully in her lumpy bed at the Cozy Suites Motel. A fire and a kiss in one night? Impossible.
She pinched herself and it hurt. That wasn’t good. Maybe she should throw herself out the window. A desire to gulp in cool night air made her hurry to it, but it was one of those big modern ones that didn’t open.
Probably a good thing. She looked out and could see nothing but dark woods barely illuminated by a cloud-shrouded moon.
She’d grabbed him, fisting her hands into his T-shirt, and clawed at his back. Had she totally lost her mind? Her breath came in heaving gasps and blood pounded in her veins.
It had been a very long time since she’d kissed anybody. Since anyone had kissed her, or even shown the slightest interest in doing so. Her one and only boyfriend, Phil, had broken up with her right before they graduated from college. Four years together, sustained by promises of marriage and family and happily ever after, and he’d simply told her that he wasn’t ready and he was moving to Seattle without her. Her parents would die—or they’d kill her, or both—if they knew she’d given Phil her virginity outside the sanctity of marriage. They’d blame her for throwing herself away and point out that of course he wouldn’t want to marry a woman like that.
The pain and shame of it all was achingly fresh even after six years, so she tried not to think about it.
And now something like this? She could taste John’s lips on hers, his tongue winding with hers, and the memory made her heart pulse harder. She couldn’t even blame him. She couldn’t swear that he’d even started the kiss. It had just happened. And it had happened all over her body, which now hummed and throbbed with all kinds of unfamiliar and disturbing sensations.
She’d lost her clothes, her car keys and now her mind. How would she ever get to sleep now?
Three (#ulink_5c28005c-4025-56bc-8a6a-40de6a531819)
“Thanks for picking everyone up last night, Don.” John leaned back in his chair in the hotel restaurant and brushed croissant crumbs from his fingers. “I know I interrupted your hot date.”
“Anything for you, John. You know that.” His uncle sipped his coffee. “Though why you feel the need to help a bunch of total strangers, I don’t entirely know.”
John shrugged. “Nowhere else for them to go. And Constance Allen was with them.” His lips hummed slightly at the sense memory of their kiss. He hadn’t planned it, and the chemistry between them had taken him by surprise.
Don put his cup down with a bang. “What? I didn’t see her.”
“I brought her in my car.” He schooled his face into a neutral expression.
“So she’s here, right now, in the hotel?” His uncle’s eyes widened. “And you didn’t even tell me?”
John sipped his coffee. “I’m telling you right now.”
Don’s long, narrow mouth hitched into a half smile. “Did you put a move on her?”
“Me?” He raised a brow noncommittally. He didn’t want to give Don the satisfaction of knowing. And he hadn’t kissed her to please anyone but himself.
Don laughed and slapped his hand on the table. “You kill me. I bet she’ll look like a startled rabbit today. Heck, she looked like one yesterday.”
John frowned. “You need to stop making assumptions about people, Don. I’m sure she has a lot of dimensions you know nothing about. At the fire last night, for example, she kept her cool and was very helpful. Nothing like a startled rabbit.”
Don cocked his head. “If I had half the charm you do I’d never be lonely again.”
“You’re not lonely all that much now, from what I can see.”
“The money from this place doesn’t hurt.” His uncle laughed. “I was lonely a lot before. I didn’t have the knack for making bank that you were born with.”
“It’s not a knack. It’s called hard work.” He kept checking the door, waiting for Constance to show up.
“All the hard work in the world doesn’t help if you aren’t lucky.” Don took a bite of his eggs. “Luck is our bread and butter.”
“You make your own luck.” John scanned the dining room. Had he missed her coming down? He wanted to see her. “Statistics are our bread and butter. Anyone dumb enough to rely on luck will lose it all to the house sooner or later.”
“Unless they know how to game the system.”
“Impossible.” John drained his coffee. “I personally make sure it’s impossible. I’m going up to the office. Don’t forget to send out the press release about the new lineup of shows. I want press coverage.”
“I know, I know. Who booked them all?”
“You did. And Mariah Carey was amazing last night.”
Don grinned. “I love my job.”
“Me, too.” John slapped Don on the back as he headed out of the dining room. His uncle could be a pain in the ass, but underneath all the bluster he had a good heart and put a lot into making the entertainment here as much of a draw as the gaming tables.
But where was Constance? She wasn’t in his office. He’d tried calling her hotel room, but no one picked up. He didn’t want to knock on her door again. That hadn’t gone entirely as planned last time.
He strolled across the lobby.
“You seen Constance Allen?” The staff at the front desk shook their heads. He would have to go up to her room again. He took the elevator to the sixth floor, excitement rippling in his veins. Why had she let him kiss her? In retrospect, it surprised him. She’d seemed so uptight and buttoned-down, but she’d opened like a flower and kissed him back with passion.
He couldn’t wait to see what would happen this morning. Of course he probably shouldn’t be entertaining lustful thoughts about the accountant investigating their books for the BIA. On the other hand he knew she wouldn’t find anything wrong, so what did it really matter? No one would ever know but the two of them.
He knocked on the door. “It’s John.”
He heard some rustling, and cracked his knuckles while waiting. The door opened a crack and a pair of bright hazel eyes peered out at him.
“Good morning.” A smile spread across his mouth. Chemistry crackled in the air again. Which was odd, really, because by any objective standards he wouldn’t have thought they’d be a match. Maybe it was that opposites-attract thing.
And she was pretty.
“Um, hello.” The door didn’t open any farther.
“Can I come in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He saw her purse her pretty pink lips.
“I promise I won’t try anything,” he whispered. “In fact I’m not sure what happened last night, and if an apology is in order then I offer one.” Not that he was sorry.
The door still didn’t budge. Now she was biting that sensual lower lip. Which had an unfortunate effect on his libido.
“I called the dealership about your car. They’re going to program a new key and bring it over here before noon.”
“That’s great. Thanks.”
“Don’t you want to come up to the office and look through the books?”
She blinked rapidly. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“All right then. I won’t come in. You come out instead.”
The door closed for a moment and he heard some rattling, then she appeared again, carrying her bag. “I just had to get my laptop.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, looking self-conscious—and very lovely—in the blue dress he’d found for her. He wasn’t sure whether to compliment her or not, and decided not to. He didn’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable.
Her hair was fastened back up into a tight bun that showed off her pretty neck. As usual she wore no makeup, and the freshness of her clear skin was heightened this morning by an endearing flush of pink on her cheeks.
“I hope you managed to get some sleep after all the excitement of last night.”
Her pace quickened as she headed down the hall toward the elevator. He’d meant the fire, but he realized she’d thought he meant the kiss. The memory of it flashed through his brain, firing all kinds of inappropriate impulses.
“I slept fine, thank you.” Her words were clipped and terse. “I’d like to look at the receipts from your first two years of operation this morning.”
“Of course.” The temptation to touch her was overwhelming. Normally he’d probably have done it without even realizing, but everything about her energy warned him to back off. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Perhaps I could grab a roll or something from the dining room before I head up to your office.”
“No need. I’ll have some food brought up.” He reached for his phone. “Tea or coffee?”
“Neither, thanks. A glass of water would be fine.”
He sneaked a glance at her as she pressed the elevator button. Shoulders tense and bag clutched in her hand, she looked as if she might explode. She probably didn’t want to risk ingesting stimulants. He could think of a few ways to help her relax, but none of them was appropriate in the circumstances.
Maybe later, though.
As they got on the elevator, he told one of the new kids who was interning for the summer to bring some eggs and toast and fruit up to the office. And a roll. And some juice and water. But even as he concentrated on ordering the food, he noticed how the enclosed space of the elevator felt strangely tight this morning, the atmosphere abuzz with...something.
He followed her off the elevator, admiring the way she carried herself as she walked across the floor to his office. Then she stopped and frowned slightly.
He gestured for her to open the door. “Head in and make yourself comfortable.”
“Is there another office I can work in? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“The only way you could inconvenience me is by making me carry all the files out of my office and into another one.” He shot her a glance. “So you’ll do me a favor by working in here. I have things to do anyway, so I won’t be around much.” He hoped that would put her at ease.
She put her bag down on the round table in the corner. “When did you say my car keys would be ready?”
“Noon. And I’ll drive you over there to retrieve it.”
“Again, I don’t want to put you to any inconvenience. Is there someone less...important who can drive me?” She was avoiding his glance as she moved toward his desk.
“We’re all important here. It’s how we run the place. Every Nissequot has a crucial role to play and would be missed as much if not more than me. The cashiers will be hustling today, as we’re expecting twenty buses of retirees visiting from Cape Cod this morning.”
“Oh.” Her brow wrinkled slightly as she reached for the pile of folders she’d pulled the day before. She bumped her elbow on a jar of pens, accidentally scattering them across the desk. He grabbed one just before it flew over the edge.
Their fingertips brushed as he handed it back to her. Her hand flinched away as though she’d been stung. Somehow that only increased the tension snapping in the air.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. She was here on business and was obviously very reserved and proper. She wasn’t looking to get her hands on him.
Quite the opposite.
Was that why he’d been irresistibly drawn to her? Was it the challenge of the seemingly unobtainable? There was something more, though. An energy that drew him to her. Something deep and primal. And when she’d folded into his arms and melted into the kiss...
John turned his attention to the filing cabinet with the receipts she wanted. Something had happened between them and he didn’t know why. Unplanned and inappropriate, it had stirred his blood and left him wanting more.
Just get rid of her as quickly as possible. His uncle’s words simmered in his brain. Sensible advice, under the circumstances. The way her movements snapped with precision and anxiety right now—fingers tapping on her keyboard and eyes darting across the rows of numbers on the papers she’d pulled from the files—she was rushing to get out of here.
So it was all good, right?
John frowned. Was he really the player the Massachusetts press made him out to be? Maybe he was. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” The innuendo wasn’t entirely intentional, but he enjoyed her hot-under-the-collar reaction. Shifting in her chair and fussing with her bag, she seemed tense enough to burst into flames.
He’d be happy to help put out the fire. “The food should be here any minute, but maybe I’d better get you some water right now.”
“Just some peace and quiet will be fine, please,” she muttered, without looking up. She pushed her glasses up on her nose with a fingertip. He noticed she wasn’t wearing nail polish.
A smile sneaked across his mouth. He liked that she wasn’t afraid to be rude. A lot of people were intimidated by him, especially now that the millions were rolling in. It was refreshing to find someone who treated him as though he was a regular guy. “I’ll make myself scarce.”
“Good.” She still didn’t look up.
He chuckled as he removed himself from his own office. He could still taste that kiss on his lips. Constance had a surprising well of passion beneath her prim exterior, and he looked forward to tapping it again—whether or not that was a good idea.
* * *
Constance couldn’t wait to get her car back. Right now, sitting in the grand lobby of the hotel, she felt like a prisoner in John’s luxurious den of vice. Dressed in a silky garment she’d never have chosen, surrounded by people laughing and talking too loud and drinking before it was even lunchtime, she felt totally out of her element.
Maybe her family was right and she should have tried to refuse this job. On the other hand, building a career depended on taking assignments that would enhance her profile in the company, and a contract from a big government agency was a feather in her cap. Luckily New Dawn’s files were well organized and the information straightforward, so she’d probably get her work done and be out of here within a week.
She heard her phone chime and fished it out of her bag. The display revealed that it was Nicola Moore, her contact at the Bureau of Indian Affairs.
“Hello, Nicola. I’m sitting in the lobby of the casino right now.” She glanced about, hoping the woman wouldn’t ask a lot of probing questions that would be embarrassing to answer right here.
“Excellent. Are they allowing you access to the books?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Fairweather—” even saying his name made her blush “—has given me carte blanche to go through all the files in his office. He has the original cash register receipts for every day since the casino opened.”
“Do they seem legitimate?”
“The receipts?” She glanced around, hoping no one could overhear their conversation. “They do. So far everything looks good.”
There was a pause at the other end. “They think it’s a routine audit, but the reason we sent you is that we have good reason to suspect fraud. They may be giving you falsified documents.”
Constance bristled. “I have considerable experience in examining retail operations. I know the warning signs, and rest assured I will closely examine anything that looks at all suspicious.”
“John Fairweather has a reputation for charming everyone. Don’t be fooled by his suave manner—he’s a very sharp and cunning businessman.”
Constance fumbled and almost dropped her phone. Could Nicola Moore somehow know that John had...seduced her last night? Impossible, surely! “I’m aware of his reputation,” she whispered. Where was he? She felt as if he was going to materialize beside her at any minute. “I am completely immune to charm and focused entirely on the numbers.” At least she certainly planned to boost her immunity to his charms from now on. That kiss last night had caught her completely by surprise, when she was overwrought and exhausted and emotional from the evening’s turmoil.
“Excellent. I look forward to hearing an interim report. The New Dawn has attracted a lot of negative attention since it opened. You may have read some of the commentary in the press. We’ve been hearing plenty of whispers about their operation. No one can figure out how they managed to open without taking on massive debt, or how they’re operating with such impressive profits. It doesn’t match the other models we’ve seen. Frankly, we’re assuming that something untoward is going on. Those numbers just can’t be real.”
Constance frowned. She didn’t like that Ms. Moore already assumed a crime was in progress. She’d been surprised by the negative slant of some newspaper articles she’d read about the Nissequot and the New Dawn, too. John and the tribe seemed to attract the kind of backbiting usually reserved for successful celebrities. So far she hadn’t seen any evidence of wrongdoing at all. Of course it was only her second day, but still.... John seemed to be a concerned and thorough businessman and she was beginning to get annoyed by the relentless negativity about his success.
Not that she had any interest at all in defending him, of course. That would be highly unprofessional. She prided herself on complete objectivity. But maybe everyone should be a bit more open-minded about the New Dawn’s management.
She tensed as she saw John striding across the lobby toward her. You’d think an expensive suit would conceal the raw masculinity of his body, but it didn’t. Something about the way he moved made her pulse quicken and her brain start scrambling. Ridiculous! She was far above this kind of girlish reaction. She muttered quickly into the phone that she’d report back as soon as she found anything. Guilt made her fingers tremble as she ended the call.
She stood and clutched her bag to her chest. “Ready?” Her voice sounded a little too perky.
“Yup. A rep from the dealership has dropped off the new key, so you’ll be a free woman again in no time.”
She smiled and carefully took the key he dangled from his fingers, without letting her skin touch his. “Thank goodness.”
“You’re welcome to stay at the hotel, of course. There really isn’t anywhere else that’s convenient. The Holiday Inn is at least twenty minutes away, and that’s with no traffic.”
“That will be fine.” Her words sounded clipped. Thank goodness there was another hotel! Staying here had proven to be an even worse idea than she’d suspected. Hopefully they could both forget completely about that insane lapse of judgment last night and get back to business.
His gaze hovered over her mouth for a moment, and her lips parted. She sucked in a hasty breath. “Let’s go.”
“Of course.” He held out his arm.
She ignored it, gripping her bag tighter.
He pulled his arm back with a rueful glance. Was he really flirting with her? He must be doing it to toy with her. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that a man like John Fairweather could actually be attracted to and interested in her. It must be a game for him, to see if he could get the prim little accountant all hot under the collar.
She’d rather die than let him know how well it was working.
In the front seat of his big sedan she pressed her knees together and forced herself to focus on the road ahead. Nothing good could come of watching his big hand on the manual gearshift, or noticing the subtle shift in his powerful thigh muscles as he pressed his foot on the pedals.
“What a beautiful day. I can’t believe I lived in the city for so long and didn’t even think about what I was missing.” His low voice rumbled inside the car.
Constance tugged her gaze from the smooth surface of the blacktop and tried to appreciate nature. Trees crowded the road on both sides, filtering the sun. “How come it’s all wooded? Why aren’t there farms, or, well, anything?”
“Around the turn of the last century, this was all farmland, but it wasn’t close enough to the cities or fertile enough to be profitable, so it was all abandoned. So far suburbia hasn’t reached out here, either. If it wasn’t for the new highway exit, we’d still be in the middle of nowhere.”
“But you grew up here?”
“Yup.” He smiled.
She squeezed her knees tighter together. It was just a smile, for crying out loud. No need to get all excited.
“I couldn’t wait to get away. I thought this was the dullest place on earth. We had fifty dairy cows and I had to help milk them every morning and evening. Makes tabulating columns of figures look really interesting, let me tell you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She couldn’t imagine him milking a cow. “I thought that was all done by machines these days.”
“It is. But someone has to hook them up to the machines.”
“Do they mind? The cows, I mean.”
“On the whole they’re pretty enthusiastic about it. I guess it feels good to lighten the load.”
“And now you milk people foolish enough to gamble their hard-earned money.” She looked straight ahead. “You help lighten their heavy wallets.”
He turned and looked at her. “You think what we do is wrong, don’t you?”
“I’m hardly unusual in that.”
“It’s entertainment. People have free will. They can come and gamble or they can go do something else.”
His calm response only prodded her to goad him more. “Do you gamble?”
He didn’t say anything. Silence hummed in the air until she got curious enough to turn and look at him. “No. I don’t.”
“See?”
“See what?”
“You’re smart enough to know it’s a bad idea.”
“I’m smart enough to know it’s not for me. Believe me, it’s already a gamble opening a big casino and hotel in the backwoods of Massachusetts when it seems like the whole world wants you to fail.”
“I notice that you get a lot of negative press. But I don’t suppose it hurts that much, considering the money you’re making.”
“You’re right about that.” He shot her another warm smile that made her toes tingle. She cursed them. “So far we’ve proved everyone wrong and I intend to make sure it stays that way.”
“Why does the BIA want to investigate your accounts?” Was she allowed to ask that? She wanted to hear what he thought.
He shrugged. “Same thing, I think. If we were deeply in debt to a bank in Dubai or the mob, or asking for a government bailout, no one would be surprised. They can’t accept that fact that we’re successful and prospering all by ourselves. It makes people suspicious.”
“Why didn’t you need to borrow money?” There probably would have been no shortage of offers. Everyone wanted a piece of this juicy new pie.
“I prefer to be in charge of my own destiny. I sold my software company for eighty million dollars. I’m sure you read about that.”
“Yes, but why would you risk your personal fortune?”
“It’s an investment, and so far it’s worked out fine.” She managed not to turn and look at him, but she could see his satisfied smile in her mind. It was really annoying how likable he was. And he didn’t gamble? She was having a hard time finding reasons to hate him. And if he wasn’t cheating, it made her job harder, because it sounded as if her contact at the BIA wouldn’t be happy until Constance found something.
She’d expected them to return to the burned-out motel, but instead he pulled into a restaurant parking lot. Her white Toyota Camry sat off to one side, sparkling clean.
“I had them wash it and bring it here. I didn’t think you’d want to see the wreck of the motel. It’s a mess over there.”
“That was thoughtful.” She sneaked a glance at him but he was getting out of the car, not paying attention to her. “But why did they bring it here instead of the New Dawn?”
Unused to the sandals, Constance stepped out onto what felt like shaky ground. At least now that she had her car back, she could go buy some more sensible clothes and book a room somewhere else. This time she might ask some pointed questions about fire safety. She didn’t know what would have happened if the motel hadn’t been equipped with alarms.
“I made us a reservation for lunch here.”
“What?” She glanced at the restaurant, which—with hanging baskets of lush flowers and elegant striped awnings—looked upscale and expensive. “No! I couldn’t possibly. I need to go buy some...toiletries, and clothes. And I want to get more work done back at the office today.”
The last thing she needed was to sit opposite John Fairweather over a delicious meal. She’d surely lose the last shreds of her sanity. And really, he had quite a nerve even suggesting it. She should report his behavior to her BIA contact.
Except maybe she’d leave out the part about the kiss.
She climbed into her car and put her bag on the seat next to her. The new key started the engine perfectly, and the brakes screeched slightly as she reversed out of her space too fast. She turned and headed for the exit. It wasn’t until she saw John—in the rearview mirror—staring after her that she realized how rude she’d just been.
He was smiling slightly, as if he found the situation funny.
Which made her speed away even faster.
* * *
Safely ensconced at the desk in her new room at the Holiday Inn, Constance called her boss’s office to let her know why she’d had to move, and ended up speaking to her friend Lynn, the office receptionist.
“It’s a bummer that you live with your parents. I wonder if you can claim the loss on their homeowner’s insurance.”
“I doubt they have any. Their insurance is faith in God. Even if they did, filing a claim would raise the premium.”
“If the motel doesn’t offer compensation you could sue.”
“I’d never do that.”
“You’re too much like your parents. Living in the wrong century.”
“I happen to like this century.”
Lynn laughed. “Okay, okay. So how is it going with John Fairweather? Is he as gorgeous as he looks on the internet?”
Constance shifted in her chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you like to pretend you’re a nun, but I’m sure you can tell whether a man is good-looking or not.”
“He’s okay looking, I guess.” That stupid smile inched across her lips again. Thank goodness no one was here to see it.
“So, how old is he?”
“Early thirties, maybe?”
“That’s not too old for you.”
“Lynn! What on earth would make you think he and I have anything in common?” They didn’t. Nothing. She’d thought about it on the drive over here.
“You’re both human. Both single. And you’re very pretty, Constance, though you do your best to hide it.”
“Would you stop?” She pushed her glasses up her nose. Was she really pretty enough to attract the interest of John Fairweather? It didn’t seem possible.
“I’m just excited that you’re away from your parents’ overly watchful and critical gaze. You need to make the most of it.”
“I’ve been quite busy getting burned out of my motel room and trying to go through the New Dawn’s paperwork.”
“All work and no play makes—”
“I’m already dull, and quite happy that way.” At least she had been until last night. Suddenly her mind kept churning with odd ideas. That kiss had started something. She kept thinking about it. Feeling his lips on hers. Feeling his arms around her.
Obviously she had to make sure that didn’t happen again, but she could kiss someone else, couldn’t she? “Maybe I should join one of those dating services when I get back.”
“What!” Lynn’s stunned response showed that she’d revealed way too much. Now she couldn’t even remember how she’d led up to that. “You’re finally coming to your senses? It’s him, isn’t it? Those smoldering dark eyes. Those powerful broad shoulders. I know you’re far too principled to be attracted to his money, so it must be his looks.”
“Nonsense. He’s very intelligent. Nice, too.” She froze, realizing that she’d just proved that she liked him.
Silence greeted her on the other end. “Really?” said Lynn slowly.
“Well, I don’t know. I only met him yesterday. He’s probably just being polite so I won’t delve too far into his books.”
“I wouldn’t blame him. I shouldn’t be kidding around like this, though. He does have a reputation as a lothario. I want you to spread your wings, but don’t fly right into a fox’s den.”
“One minute you’re encouraging me and the next you’re telling me to back off. It’s lucky I have no interest in anything except the books here.”
“I can’t believe I suddenly feel like I have to warn you off having an affair with John Fairweather.”
“I can’t believe it, either.” And I also can’t believe how much I need warning off! “Obviously you’ve forgotten that I’m the same Constance Allen who’s only ever dated one man.”
“Well, as soon as you get home I’m going to make sure you start dating someone new. When do you get back here, anyway?”
“It’ll probably take a week or so. The BIA said I can request more time if I need it. It all depends on what I find.”
“I hope you find something. That’s always good for business.”
“You’re actually hoping that a crime is in progress?” Constance’s gut clenched at the possibility. “I’m hoping that everything checks out fine. Then I can get out of here as soon as possible.” And preserve what was left of her dignity.
Four (#ulink_27d4ccdb-c7ba-5142-ad45-a896b7dc6f47)
She picked up a couple of suits and blouses and a pair of shoes at a local Macy’s. It was nearly four by the time she made it back to New Dawn to go over the books. Her eyes darted about, on high alert for any signs of John Fairweather. But she didn’t see his imposing form anywhere. He wasn’t in the lobby or the elevator. Or leaning over someone’s cubicle on the office floor.
He also wasn’t in his office, where she sat at the round table, which was inconveniently at coffee table height, and resumed her journey through the files. Where was he? He might be angry that she’d blown him off at lunch. Still, he needed to realize that she was here to do a job, and they’d already spent way too much time together. It would probably be more appropriate to the situation if they weren’t interacting at all. On the other hand, her BIA contact had said that often the best information came during an inadvertent slip in casual conversation, so she should spend as much time as possible with the tribal members.
She shook her head. This whole situation was far too confusing for her. Just the fact that Lynn could encourage her one minute and warn her off the next proved that nothing about it made sense. She’d rather be surrounded by quiet and predictable columns of figures.
Which, supposedly, she was right now. Unfortunately the atmosphere vibrated with the absence of John Fairweather.
Constance stayed until seven-thirty and pored over the files he’d shown her and plenty he hadn’t. Nothing aroused her suspicion. If anything, John’s accounting methods were somewhat redundant and labor-intensive, and could benefit from some streamlining and a software upgrade.
Relief mingled with disappointment as she descended to the lobby without encountering him. Apparently he’d already forgotten about her and moved on to new pastures. He was probably out on the town right now with some willowy model.
She strode through the lobby, challenging herself not to look around for him. Why did she want to see him? All he did was get her flustered. As Lynn had pointed out, he was a notorious playboy and Constance was peering behind the curtains of his successful operation.
Still, it had been nice of him to personally bring her to the hotel last night, and to pick up her car this morning. On the other hand, if he had her car moved, why hadn’t they brought it right to the hotel instead of to some expensive restaurant, where he had apparently intended to continue his inappropriate seduction?
She made her way through the parking lot to her car, brain spinning. Was she upset that he wasn’t here to flirt with her and harass her? She should be appalled and disgusted—and suspicious—of his attempts to seduce her. Red flags stuck out of this mess in every direction. Her career at Creighton Waterman would be ruined, and she could lose her accounting credentials, if anyone learned about that kiss. Yet she’d as much as told Lynn that she was attracted to John.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/jennifer-lewis/a-high-stakes-seduction/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.