sort of damage. First thing tomorrow morning, Jolie would redeposit all the money back into her clients’ accounts. She would close the Cayman account and pretend it had never happened.
But it did happen, a little voice mocked.
She pushed herself out of her chair and grabbed her purse. She had to get out of here. Maybe she could reach Erica at her hotel in St. Louis. Jolie needed a plan. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she would work the problem out. This time next month, when the audit was over, this whole nightmare would be just a bad memory.
She hesitated at the door as a vague image flashed in her mind’s eye—the fleeting impression of a man. She stood very still for a time and attempted to recapture the fragment of memory, but couldn’t. God, she was tired.
She turned off her light and locked the door behind her. Everyone else had gone home already. A quiet dinner was just what she needed. But she didn’t really want to go home right now. Her place would be too empty, allowing too many questions to haunt her.
The night watchman let Jolie out the side entrance, the one closest to her car. In her haste this morning, she hadn’t bothered parking it in the garage. She’d never been to Lebron’s for anything other than lunch, but it was handy and familiar, so she decided to head there now. She glanced up at the September night sky and its winking stars, and forced herself to relax. Tomorrow would be better.
It couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Chapter Two
Jolie strolled the two blocks to Lebron’s Restaurant. Neon lights flickered and flashed, competing with the streetlamps and passing car lights. She felt better already just being away from her office. Later, when she got home, she would call her dad, just to hear his voice. Everything was going to be okay.
She was okay.
There had to be an explanation for all that had happened.
Lebron’s night manager showed Jolie to a table in the back, where it was quiet. She thanked him and ordered a glass of white wine from the waiter standing by. In an effort to quell the compulsion to fidget, she folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently for her drink.
She was fine, she assured that little voice that lingered in the back of her mind. The whole thing could be straightened out. Mistakes happened. This had to be a mistake. There simply was no other explanation.
Jolie shifted to a more comfortable position, then stretched her neck from side to side. Despite her efforts to relax a prickly sensation rushed over her skin. She knew the signs. Panic was bearing down on her. She inhaled a long, deep breath and then exhaled slowly. She was okay, she told herself again. She’d had panic attacks before…occasionally. All she had to do was focus on relaxing and she could stop it before it went any further.
In the beginning, her mother had taken medication for anxiety and panic attacks. Eventually even that hadn’t helped. Jolie shook her head. This wasn’t the same. She didn’t need medication. She wasn’t like her mother.
The memory of waking up in a strange man’s bed broadsided her, and she jerked helplessly. The strange call at the office Renae had mentioned, the numerous accounts with discrepancies… The trip she didn’t remember taking—hadn’t taken! The personal account at a Cayman Bank she couldn’t possibly have opened—all of it whirled inside her head. Jolie closed her eyes and resisted the urge to scream or cry or both. How could this be happening? She had worked so hard. She was just beginning to see the fruits of her labor. The promotion, the professional recognition—she was on her way. She was the youngest VP ever. All of which she had accomplished on her own, after her father had retired. Why did this have to happen now? Tears stung behind her closed lids.
The waiter arrived. Jolie snapped her eyes open and managed a strained thank-you as he set her wine before her. She reached for the delicate stemmed glass, but her hand shook so badly that she dropped it back onto her lap beneath the table. She blinked back the tears. She would not cry. She would not fall apart. She was stronger than that…stronger than her mother. She would fix this somehow.
“A beautiful lady should never dine alone.”
Jolie’s head shot up. Her gaze connected instantly with the dark, mesmerizing eyes of the man she had seen in the bank’s lobby earlier that day. For one second she wondered if her mind had somehow conjured him up. No…he was real and somehow familiar. Heat flowed through her, vanquishing the ice-cold dread and panic threatening to choke her.
“May I join you?” he asked in a deep, velvety voice that touched some chord deep inside her.
Who was this man? she wondered briefly, before she found her voice to answer. Why had he been in the bank today? What had he and Mr. Knox been discussing? And why was he here now? The other tangle of troubles flitted through her mind all over again, as well. Missing money…missing hours. Had last night’s disaster started with her talking to some stranger?
Probably.
Jolie firmed her resolve and stared defiantly at the sinfully handsome man. “I hate to injure your pride, sir, but if we’ve met before it proved unmemorable.” Damn it, she fumed. Did she look that easy? She never had before.
A slow smile slid across those firm, full lips, making the man even more handsome, if that was possible, but only adding to her growing frustration. If she had ever seen that smile before she would indeed remember it.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “My name is Simon.” He held out his hand. “And you are?”
Jolie looked from those mesmerizing eyes to his hand and back. His charm proved far too potent to resist. She placed her hand, however hesitantly, in his. Long, tapered fingers closed around hers, and just like earlier today, something passed between them. Heat and something more. Something she couldn’t quite define.
“Jolie Randolph,” she heard herself say.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jolie Randolph.” Before she knew what he intended, he bent slightly and lifted her fingers to his lips. The kiss was nothing more than the faintest brush of his mouth, but the effect was devastating.
He smiled again, this time at her startled expression. It was as if he fully realized the effect he had on her. “As I said, you’re much too beautiful to be sitting here all alone.”
Jolie tugged her fingers free of his. Her skin was on fire where his lips had touched her. This was ridiculous. He was a stranger. The image of the man in the shower this morning flitted through her mind’s eye. The last thing she needed was another stranger in her life! “You should choose another pickup line, Mr….”
“Ruhl,” he told her, his gaze never leaving hers. “Simon Ruhl. And you haven’t answered my question, Miss Randolph.”
Jolie sipped her wine, taking a much-needed break from his intense gaze and pretending to consider his offer. Why was she encouraging him? Flirting, that’s what she was doing. She should simply ignore him so he would leave. “Actually, Mr. Ruhl, I only want a quiet dinner alone.” She allowed her gaze to meet his once more. Lord knew she already had enough trouble. And this man had trouble written all over his amazing face.
His eyes were too knowing and offered a most tempting escape. “You look like a lady who could use someone to talk to, Jolie.”
The way he said her name, the way the French intended,
