“You looked like you were running away from something.”
“Your uncle Don doesn’t know about...us, does he?”
John shrugged. “I haven’t told him anything. Even if he figured it out, he’d be discreet. He’s got enough skeletons in his own closet that he’s not going to throw open the door to anyone else’s.”
Why was that not at all reassuring? “I don’t think we should walk back in together.”
“Why not?” He looked a little put out. “I’m the CEO of the place. I hardly think it’s inappropriate of me to escort the forensic accountant up to the offices.” He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Even if I do know how she looks without her clothes on.”
Constance sucked in a breath. Heat flushed her entire body and she wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or lust. It didn’t really matter. Neither was at all helpful right now.
“You’re incorrigible.” Luckily there was no one else around.
“I know. It’s an affliction. Do you think you can cure me?”
“I doubt it. I also have no intention of trying.” She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “And I have work to do.”
“Let’s go.” He led the way, then waited for her to catch up so they could enter the lobby together. She held her chin high, self-conscious as she walked with him through the public space. The staff all knew who she was by now. Did they suspect anything? She felt so different than she had even yesterday, it was hard to imagine that she could still look the same from the outside.
When they reached the office, John ushered her in, then followed her and closed the door. She heard the lock click and felt his arm reach around her waist and her backside crushed up against his hard form.
“Constance, you’re making me crazy.”
She tried to hide her smile. “Maybe you were crazy already.”
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me.”
“I can’t imagine that I’ve done anything.” His big hand splayed over her belly, where all kinds of sensations churned. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And I keep distracting you.” His lips brushed her neck and heat flickered low inside her.
“Yes. Very much so.”
“I think you needed some distraction.” His low voice sent a rumble of desire to her toes.
“So I’ll be unable to properly investigate your books? You’ll make me think you’re trying to hide something.”
“Maybe there is something I’m trying to hide.” His voice contained more than a hint of suggestion, and she felt his erection jostle against her. She was slightly appalled by how arousing that was. What had happened to her since she met John Fairweather? It was as though a switch had turned on inside her. Now energy coursed through her veins whenever she was around him. Her mind strayed in previously forbidden directions and her body ached to do all kinds of things that she knew were wrong.
“What are we doing?” she asked in a half whisper.
His mouth played below her ear, heating her skin. “I think I’m kissing your neck.”
“This is foolish.”
“I won’t argue with you.” He went back to kissing her neck. Her nipples were starting to tingle.
“So shouldn’t we stop?”
His mouth worked its way up to her ear and he nibbled softly on her earlobe, which sent a surprising surge of sensation to her core. “Definitely not.”
He spun her around and kissed her full on the mouth. Her lips parted to welcome him and she felt her arms wrap enthusiastically around him without her permission. They kissed for a solid ten minutes, until she was in a thoroughly befuddled state. Then he excused himself with a polite nod and left her all alone, in a state of agonizing arousal, with nothing but ledger books for company.
She stared at the door. What a nerve! Now he had her all worked up and he’d waltzed off? He hadn’t even said where he was going or when he’d be back. How could she work now that he’d left her with blood pounding in every part of her body other than her brain?
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly seven o’clock. She’d wasted most of the afternoon seeing nothing downstairs. Except for Don Fairweather swiping those chips off the table.
Of course she’d seen him put chips down to bet, so nothing truly suspicious had happened, but wasn’t it rather a conflict of interest for him to gamble in the tribe’s own casino? He wasn’t involved in the day-to-day operations on the floor. He did publicity and booked the bands, but he was obviously fairly intimate with all the other workers. She’d noticed his jovial exchanges with at least half a dozen employees on the floor. Which was hardly proof of wrongdoing.
She heaved a sigh of relief to find that thinking about Don helped dissipate the fog of passion that John had left her in. She turned to the computer and had a look through the entries from a year ago. There was no point in looking at new data, since everyone knew she was here so any would-be crooks would be on their best behavior. As usual everything seemed to add up.
Often with forensic accounting she wasn’t looking for overt proof of wrongdoing. White-collar criminals were usually smart and knew how to cover their tracks. She had to look closely to find tiny holes or data that was just a little different from the norm. Then she at least had a clue for somewhere to stick in her shovel and start digging. So far she’d had no luck. Every time she’d thought she found an interesting anomaly, it had turned out to be a dead end.
On instinct she decided to look for internal records of tribal members gambling. They were easy enough to find in the casino databases, which were very well organized and clearly labeled, probably by John himself. Don wasn’t the only member who gambled, but he was by far the heaviest gambler. Someone called Mona Lester had some losses, and an Anna Martin had some small winnings, but Don had won more than fifty thousand dollars last year. Could he be up to something, or was he just lucky?
The door clicked open and John appeared again. She closed the spreadsheet window with a flash of guilt. Which was ridiculous. He knew she was here to dig into the files, so she was hardly going behind his back. Still, it felt wrong to kiss a man then go looking for fraud in his own computer system.
One more reason why this whole affair was a big mistake.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His sleek dark suit did nothing to conceal the raw masculinity of his body. Especially not now that she’d seen it naked. “You’re coming to my house for dinner.”
“You mean your suite.” Her response seemed easier than choosing to accept or decline his invitation. Not an invitation, really. More of a command.
“No, I mean my house. I’m just living in the suite while I renovate the old farmhouse. The kitchen’s finished, so I have everything I need to make dinner for you.”
“You can cook?”
“Absolutely.”
She
