How do you explain a night like that to people? You just couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe you. If it wasn’t for the proof inked into his skin, he might’ve believed she was a tequila induced hallucination. His gaze dropped to his right hand and the tattoo etched into the web of skin between his thumb and index finger. His fingertip grazed over the slightly raised design, tracing it as he’d done that night, only then it was across the silky skin of her chest. His half of the heart.
The other half had disappeared with the woman in the butterfly mask. He’d never anticipated a company Mardi Gras party at his loft would turn into an unforgettable night of body shots, anonymous sex and late-night tattoos. But for some reason, she, whoever she was, had gotten under his skin almost instantly. Everything from her soft gasp as he licked the salt from her throat to the way she’d begged for him to take her was etched into his mind.
Even with all the crap going on with Game Town, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift to her again. She’d asked him for one night. No names, no personal details. Pure fantasy. Her multicolored glitter butterfly mask had obscured everything but her sleek, brunette ponytail, the full pout of her lips and the bewitching emerald green of her eyes.
How, exactly, had he decided that letting her walk out of his life was a good idea?
Jonah had been an idiot. He could see it now. For years, he’d gone through a lineup of women. They were all beautiful. Many were successful or talented in one way or another. They were drawn to his business success and the glamorous lifestyle he could provide. Most men would be content with the kind of woman who would throw herself at them, but he never was. He would inevitably get bored and move on. He’d actually earned a reputation as one of Manhattan’s Most Eligible and Elusive Bachelors.
But his butterfly had kept his interest. Even three months later, he still found himself thinking about her. Wondering where she was. Who she was. Trying to figure out if the real woman could ever measure up to his memory of her. She’d insisted that the next morning he wouldn’t want her anymore, like she would turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight. Was it just the fantasy he craved? If he’d seen her face and known her name, would she have been relegated to the list of women he’d loved and forgotten? He didn’t know.
Jonah ran his hand through the long strands of his dark brown hair and gripped the back of his skull. He needed to let this go. Let her go. If he kept looking down the blouse of every woman he met searching for that tattoo, eventually he’d get slapped. Or sued. Maybe arrested.
He simply couldn’t help it.
With a sigh, Jonah turned back to his computer. He needed to focus. Noah would eventually come home and suffer mightily, but until then, he needed to clean up the mess. He searched through his contact list for his accountant, Paul. He’d be able to move his assets around and get the cash he needed. He always made sure his money worked as hard for him as he did for it and invested heavily, unlike his brother, who burned through money buying silly toys.
He could get the cash; it just might take a few days for the wheels of finance to turn.
In the meantime, he’d have to find a way to stall the forensic accountant Game Town was sending over. Someone would be showing up this afternoon at two. No one had mentioned the auditor’s name, so he had no idea who, or what, to expect. His strategy would rely heavily on who showed up.
If the auditor was male, Jonah would drag his dusty golf clubs from the closet and take the guy out. He hated golf, but found it to be an important social tool in the business world. Few company honchos got together to play Madden on their Xbox. It was a pity. Instead, they would play eighteen holes; he’d buy the auditor some drinks. Steaks. Whatever. Perhaps if the guy was hung over enough, the numbers would take longer to crunch.
If the auditor was a woman, there would be a different tactic. The golf clubs would stay in the closet, but the charm would be on in full force. Regardless of whether she had three eyes and a hunchback or looked fresh from the Parisian runways, Jonah’s charisma would carry him through. Since the age of fifteen, he’d had a way with women. A gift, he supposed, and one he made good use of. Dinner and drinks would still be involved, but the ambience would improve greatly.
He wouldn’t have to lay a hand on her. The last thing he needed was the woman running back to Game Town with that tale. No, Jonah wouldn’t go there. The right smile, some intense eye contact and a few compliments would go far, especially with a mousy accountant who wasn’t used to the attention. If he planned this right, he’d have her so hot and bothered she wouldn’t be able to remember her own name, much less see the problems with the financial reports.
No matter what, Jonah would come out on top. If he had to sit down with Carl Bailey, the CEO of Game Town, and explain what was going on, he would, but if it could be avoided, he’d gladly play eighteen holes or take a lonely accountant to the theater.
He made a note to ask his assistant, Pam, what shows were playing on Broadway at the moment. He wasn’t a big fan of musicals, but he found most to be tolerable enough. Except Cats. He wasn’t making that mistake a second time. That was a phenomenal waste of four hundred dollars, which was saying a lot, given he’d easily spend that much in a week on supplies for the gourmet coffee bar they added on the twenty-third floor.
Speaking of which, he eyed his now-cold coffee with dismay. He’d get a refill and a bagel after he talked to Paul. Picking up the phone, he dialed his accountant and mentally cleared his calendar for the next week. He’d be busy courting the Game Town auditor.
Jonah just prayed it was a woman. He really hated golf.
* * *
Surely her boss was a closet sadist. There was no other explanation for why he’d send her to FlynnSoft for two to three weeks. Tim could’ve sent anyone. Mark. Dee. But no, he had to send Emma. She was the only one who could handle herself in that environment, he said.
Slipping her hand inside the doorway to her closet, she flipped on the light switch and stepped inside. Tim was full of it. He just wanted to see her squirm. She liked to think that she’d been hired for her top grades at Yale and her recommendations from professors, but she had a sneaking suspicion her father had gotten involved and made it happen.
Tim likely resented some rich kid getting dropped into his department against his will and enjoyed making her miserable as a result. It made her more determined than ever not to give him that satisfaction. She was going to do a good job. No—a great job. She would not get sucked into FlynnSoft’s corporate hippie attitude. She would not fall prey to Jonah Flynn, Golden God and his seductive smile.
Not that the notorious CEO would waste any of his smoldering looks on Emma. She wasn’t bad to look at, but the last gossip blog she’d seen had him coming out of a restaurant with a model she’d recognized from her lingerie catalog. She simply couldn’t compete with abs of steel and breasts of silicone. And she wouldn’t even try.
A man like Jonah Flynn was of no interest to her, anyway. He embodied everything her mother, Pauline, had warned her about. Don’t make the same mistakes as Cynthia did, she’d say. Her older sister hadn’t died because of poor choices—a plane crash had done that—but when those choices came to light after her death, the family had been scandalized. Emma had grown up as her sister’s polar opposite as a result.
If Tim was being absolutely honest with her, she’d bet that’s why she got the job. Dee, although competent, was a tall, thin and attractive woman easily distracted by men. If Flynn even looked at her sideways, she’d be a puddle at his feet. Forensic auditors could not puddle. Emma probably wouldn’t earn a second glance.
She eyed the neatly hung
