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
