at your feet and begging you to take me?”
He stopped, his gaze heating as it roamed over her body. As he pulled the cell phone from his shoulder, one corner of his mouth kicked up in a roguish smile. “Nope, but I would say you let your professional ambitions ruin any fun you might have. Probably ever.”
Marcus had accused her of being too ambitious, too anxious to push the next project. He’d claimed she’d been domineering and that had driven him to seek true feminine solace with their company’s receptionist. That’s when she’d realized how stupid she’d been—made even more painfully obvious when she, Marcus and their other partner, Vigo, were arrested for embezzlement and fraud.
But she wasn’t that gullible kid anymore. Her successes were hers. A woman in a man’s world, she wasn’t about to apologize for her professional drive or explain to Levi that she had plenty of fun. She’d prove it to him.
She let one corner of her mouth curl up. “Tell me, Levi. If you don’t work in this particular department, where do you work?”
“I’m employed by the club.” His eyes tightened at the admission, revealing the very early markers of crow’s-feet. “Why?”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, and his gaze dropped to the glimpse of cleavage the button-up shirt exposed. “I’m wondering how Beaux Hommes most benefits from your particular brand of charm, unpolished as it is.” She blinked slowly. “I’d assume whatever you do doesn’t require much talking.”
Shifting his attention to somewhere over her shoulder, he snorted. “Forget it, Ms. Banks. I’m not stupid enough to bait this particular dragon. I’m just trying to supplement my income.”
“So is Beaux Hommes your regular source of income?”
He eyed her with open distrust. “Sort of.”
“Do you dance to earn that income?” she asked, coquettishly tipping her head to one side. “That would require mastery of seduction.”
Levi scowled at her and tugged his collar. “I’m actually...”
Harper held her breath. She’d opened the door for him, giving him an easy way to offer her the truth.
He dropped his hands to his waist and looked at the floor. “I am a dancer. The lead dancer, actually. I got into it to support my parents after...after they...” He stumbled to a conversational halt. “What I earn here helps them out.”
She shifted from foot to foot. Something about his answer, the way he tripped over it, bothered her. “What happened with your parents, Levi?”
Lifting his chin, he considered her before laughing again, decidedly softer this time. “I’m not interested in whatever angle you’re trying to work.” His face tightened. “As for my parents? Don’t go there. They’re off the table and off-limits. Period.”
“I’m an IRS agent. I don’t work angles,” she bit out, “and I go where I have to go.” His response only made her more curious, more concerned. But pitying this man or his parents wasn’t going to close the case.
Irritation rode her spine like a free-fall carnival ride, climbing one vertebra at a time only to careen down her back and haul her stomach with it. She was caught between wanting to prove him wrong and...what? Wanting to force him to understand that she was human, too?
Harper stilled. Where had that come from? She didn’t know him, wouldn’t ever see him again after this case closed, yet it mattered what he thought of her in that particular moment? “No,” she said softly, shaking her head, unaware she’d spoken aloud until he responded.
“No, what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, totally thrown off balance for the first time since taking this job.
Levi considered her, the look on his face both shrewd and calculating. “Suddenly not up to the verbal sparring? That means you forfeit this round, Ms. Banks. Can your ego take it?”
Her mouth opened and closed twice before she got her voice back. “You do not want to challenge me, Mr. Walsh. I’ll take you to the mat.”
“Yeah?” He pulled his glasses off and grinned. “What will you do with me then?”
Harper realized too late that he’d walked her right into the flirtatious byplay. Fighting the urge to snarl, she held out one hand and curled her fingers. “The ledger.”
“I was hoping you’d be more creative than that.”
Something suspiciously close to attraction curled around her ankles and made its way up her legs. “I’ll ask one last time, Mr. Walsh. What is it exactly that you do for Beaux Hommes?”
His eyes grew hooded. Tossing his glasses onto the desk behind him, he slowly pulled his sweatshirt off to reveal a wickedly cut torso, his obliques so defined they were like funnels for the eyes, drawing them straight to...whoa.
Harper lost her battle to subdue a heated blush. “I get the picture. If you’re a stripper, though, why are you working in the office?”
His face closed down. “They keep the Hooked on Phonics set in the closet for us to come by and use whenever we want.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she fumbled, beyond irritated that she’d so completely lost her footing. She’d known he was a stripper. She just hadn’t expected him to own it with such authority—or to demonstrate it.
“Yeah? Well, you’re a bright woman. Choose your words more carefully when you make snap judgments.”
“Right. Because I’m sure you were in there with the ledger, what, fixing it? I didn’t know LeapFrogs had Excel spreadsheet capabilities. My bad.”
His shoulders went rigid. “Stop assuming I’m stupid.”
“Then stop using your body as your primary asset!”
And that, right there, was the problem. She’d assumed he was harmless. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
* * *
LEVI’S MUSCLES LOCKED UP. From the bottom of his feet to the top of his scalp. She had pissed him off with that last allegation, that he used his body as his primary asset. Yes, he was a stripper, but he was more than that. He wasn’t a brainless body. If that’s what she thought, though? His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed.
She was also with the IRS. He had a personal history with that arm of the government, which made defying her way more satisfying.
“Enough with the evasive maneuvers. Give me the ledger, Mr. Walsh.” She tugged.
His hands fisted, the letter crinkling in protest. “I’ll get it for you.” At least the one I intend to show you. “But for doing so, I’d appreciate little show of good faith.” Show... “Why don’t you come to the show tonight?”
“I don’t... No,” she stammered. “That’s not my flavor of entertainment.”
“How can
