Masquerade

by Desiree Holt

  It helped that the moment they started working, he was all business.

  “I want to review the profits and expenses from each client. The first thing I always do is take a pass at the electronic ledgers and the bank accounts. I did that today and found nothing. Not unusual, but that in itself always makes me look twice. The books look almost too good. Not even one penny out of place. That’s rare, if not impossible.”

  “And that means?”

  “That somebody didn’t want the accounting questioned,” he told her. “They wanted your accounting firm to get to the point where they only did a cursory look at everything. Know what I mean? Either your in-house bookkeeper is better than any I’ve ever worked with or someone is going to a lot of trouble to make sure no one has a reason to question anything.”

  She nodded. “As if no one wants you to look beneath that surface.”

  “Right. A good accountant would look at these, reconcile everything and say good job.”

  “And that’s exactly what happens every quarter.”

  “But I’ve been doing this long enough to know that nothing is perfect. Someone always makes a stupid mistake that tells you they’re human. I have some notes here about certain expenses and certain client fees and maybe you can clarify things for me. Between the crazy cell phone call and Craig’s weird, sudden death, Taylor’s convinced there’s something going on here that’s being well concealed.”

  “I hate to say it,” Lindsey sighed, “but I have to agree with both of you. I just wish I knew what.”

  “Tracing the money—both income and expense—is the first step to finding out. Sometimes you have to be looking for something to find it out of place.”

  They began with the individual client accounts, comparing expenses and income to bank deposits and withdrawals. John had done a cursory review to familiarize himself with them, but Lindsey was able to answer questions about specific expenses and income. At the end of two hours, nothing weird had shown up and she was pretty sure they were both getting eyestrain.

  John leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, confirming her thoughts. “I’ve only been through one year so far, going in reverse, but everything looks good. Like I said before, almost too good.”

  “The business does very well,” she reminded him. “When you chart it, you’ll see we’ve continued to grow at a steady rate.”

  John was silent for a moment.

  “But that’s not the problem. No one is saying it out loud. Yet. But someone wanted to get rid of Craig Wainwright. That same someone swapped his heart medicine for sexual stimulants. That made him a ticking bomb, set to go off at any moment. Which is exactly what happened.”

  “But who?” She rubbed her forehead. “Noah had a full check run on him. He wasn’t cheating, no one on the side. He didn’t gamble. He and his wife had what I would call a strong relationship.”

  “Well, we’re damn sure missing something. The problem is, I haven’t been able to find any money that’s missing to trace. It’s the weirdest thing.” He saved everything on the screen and closed it out. “I’ve never missed yet and I sure don’t intend to this time.”

  “But in all your other jobs, you knew money was being hidden. You just had to find where.”

  He nodded. “Because the books were cooked to reduce the amount of capital. But when I analyzed the business, I could figure out how much to look for and start searching. So far I can’t find one thing out of sync. The growth percentage is right. The income per client fits. Fuck. I’m missing something and I hate this. I say we call it a night and start fresh tomorrow.”

  “Works for me. Let me just shut down everything in my office and we’ll get going.”

  He was waiting in the reception area when she’d finished. She flipped off all the switches but one night-light, locked the doors behind them and headed for the elevator. They were in her car and she had just cranked the engine when he touched her arm.

  “Lindsey.”

  His voice had that soft-rough sound that had turned her on so much. Still did, damn it.

  “Don’t, John. I’m not falling for this line again.” And she wouldn’t. Her trust meter as far as he was concerned was off the charts.

  “It’s not a line. I swear to you. Since the last time we were together I have not been with a single woman. Not even for five minutes, except for business.”

  She gave a short laugh. “In four years? You expect me to believe that?”

  “I miss you, Linds. A lot.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  She shuddered at the sensations it awoke in her.

  I can’t do this.

  “It’s hard enough working with you and keeping this professional. What do you want from me?”

  He lifted her hand from the steering wheel and brought it to his lips, pressing his mouth to her knuckles. “I want you to take me home with you tonight, let me explain my life and how I screwed up, make a fresh start with you. I want you, Lindsey, and not just for a couple of nights. Not this time. Please give us another chance.”

  Her body was definitely not listening to her brain. But maybe, she thought, she could be the one to walk away this time. Maybe she could get her fill of him, satisfy that unfinished feeling and be done with it. This time she’d be in control.

  Chapter Eight

  They rode from the office to Lindsey’s home in silence for much of the way. For a long time, he just sat next to her, looking his fill. She was just as he remembered her, except maybe better. Her hair, like thick, honey-colored silk, she still wore just brushing her shoulders and framing a heart-shaped face. Her body had just the right amount of curves, and he could not wait to get his hands on them. He wanted to look into her eyes, the same rich, dark green he remembered framed by the thickest of lashes, and read what was going on behind them. But the flash of headlights and streetlamps didn’t give him enough light to see what he wanted.

  Finally, needing to fill the silence with something, John turned on the car radio and found a station with Top 40 music. He slid a glance sideways, watching for any reaction, but all he could see was how tightly strung she was. How she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white.

  He hoped this was a good idea, but he’d figured it was the only chance he’d have. One more day and she’d have such an effective barrier erected between them that he’d never be able to crack it. He’d berated himself a million times over for the way he’d handled things. He shouldn’t have been so cavalier about the way he’d said goodbye, but he’d figured it would only be a couple of weeks at the most before he could contact her again. They’d come together like thunder and lightning and he’d wanted to give her some space to make sure she was sure about seeing him again.

  Once before he’d met someone like her. The electricity between them had been so powerful it consumed them. His career had just taken off and he’d had clients coming out of the woodwork, but he was obsessed with her. He’d called. Sent flowers. Sent gifts. Offered to fly her to Atlanta to be with him since at that moment he couldn’t leave.

  He realized now he hadn’t given her any breathing room, but he’d been younger and more stupid. It had ended in a big flash when she’d told him he was choking her. That she felt claustrophobic, hadn’t known if she was ready for a permanent relationship at that time.

  It had taken him a long time to get past that. He’d always kept his relationships brief and superficial. When he’d met Lindsey, he’d been so afraid of a repeat performance that it seemed he’d backed away too much. Then he’d gotten caught up in two complex projects that had taken every waking moment of his time. By then he’d figured that if he’d called, she’d have hung up on him.

  He should have taken the chance.

  Lucky for him, Taylor Cantrell had needed him for a job where he’d be working as a team with the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind or his dreams. So here he was, shocked that she had in fact agreed to take him home with her and hoping he didn’t fuck it up s
ix ways from Sunday.

  He was surprised when they turned into an older residential neighborhood with stucco houses, flourishing plant life and mature palm trees. She’d told him she’d moved but he’d expected something more modern. Upscale. No, he corrected himself, that’s not Lindsey at all. The driveway she pulled into belonged to a cream-colored stucco house with dark blue shutters, thick shrubbery giving it a tropical look, and two very large palm trees in her front yard. It looked like a house lived in and loved and well cared for. Another side of her identity he hadn’t taken the time to know.

  “Not what I expected at all,” he told her. Then he wondered if he’d made a mistake saying anything.

  “Shows how little you know about me.” Her voice was flat, but edged with something he couldn’t quite identify.

  “I realize that, and I hope it’s not too late to admit it.” When Lindsey turned off the engine, John sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Do you by any chance have any wine? I should have thought to ask you to stop so I could get some.”

  A tiny smile played at the corner of her lips. The first sign that there might be some hope here for him. For them.

  “Need some liquid courage, John?”

  “Believe it.” He let out his breath.

  “Come on. I have a really nice white chilling in the fridge.”

  He followed her into the house, which had an open-floor plan with the kitchen, living room and dining room all part of one great room. He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking around and taking careful note of how she’d furnished and decorated it. Hardwood floors gleamed as if just polished, and scatter rugs picked up the colors of the fabrics on the furniture. It was obvious everything had been chosen for comfort but with an eye for design. Tasteful pictures of the Gulf of Mexico and of Spanish architecture hung on the walls. It was a home designed to be welcoming and John had felt it almost as soon as he stepped inside.

  “You’ve done a nice job with the house. I’m sure you love living here.”

  “I do.” She dropped her keys into a bowl on a little table by the front door and kicked off her shoes. “Have a seat. I’ll get the wine.”

  He wanted to sit on the long couch with its colorful throw pillows and padded arms, hoping she would sit next to him, but he figured that was too much to hope for. Instead he chose the matching armchair, resting his feet on the ottoman in front of it. He would have to take it very slow here. The couch looked comfortable, but he didn’t want to find himself sleeping on it.

  It was time accept he’d been a real asshole, and maybe for much longer than he cared to admit. He supposed being as successful as he was in a sought-after profession, he’d gotten way too full of himself. Taken people for granted. Women, anyway. How had he let that happen?

  And now the woman he wanted to hold and keep forever was no doubt about to pitch him out of her life—and deservedly so—unless he could turn things around.

  “Here you go.”

  Lindsey handed him a graceful wine goblet filled with a crisp white wine. He took a sip of it, the flavor exploding on his tongue. He’d have to watch himself not to drink too much of this and forget what he was trying to do.

  Lindsey took her own goblet and sat at one end of the couch, lounging into the corner, legs tucked up under her. She also took a tiny swallow, and licked a stray drop from her lip. The gentle sweep of her tongue made his cock harden so fast that he was afraid it would push through his fly and embarrass him.

  “Okay, John.” She studied him over the rim of her glass. “The floor is yours. I can hardly wait to hear what you have to say.”

  His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “You aren’t making this easy for me, are you?”

  “Any reason why I should?”

  He swallowed a sigh. “Probably not. Okay. Well. I confess to my everlasting shame that I have never taken a relationship seriously. No reason to. I had sudden and unbelievable success in my career and women were constantly available. I had a reputation for short-term relationships—very short-term—and I wasn’t looking for anything else.” He took a healthy swallow of his wine, hating to admit he needed the boost it gave him. “I liked my freedom and lack of responsibility for anything except my work.”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s a sterling recommendation, John.” The smile on her face had little humor in it. “In fact, it’s no recommendation at all.”

  “You’re right. It’s not. And there isn’t even a way I can apologize for it without sounding like an insufferable ass. But when I met you, for the first time I had feelings I couldn’t control. It was only a couple of days, and when I thought of what might happen if we were together longer, it scared the shit out of me. When I left you and went off to my next assignment, I figured I’d bury myself in work the way I usually did. Put some distance between you and what I felt. After a while I’d text or call you and, as soon as I got free again, see if we could get together.”

  “But that didn’t happen,” she pointed out.

  “No. It didn’t.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear why.”

  He took another healthy slug of the wine. He’d better slow down or he’d be shitfaced and thrown out on his ass.

  “At first, I really was busy. That’s god’s honest truth. The new client had a complicated situation that was taking far more time than I expected. Then, every time I reached for my phone, something stopped me.”

  “You’d lost interest,” she guessed. “Why am I not surprised? Then what are you doing here?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t lost interest. Quite the opposite. I had such an intense, immediate craving for you that, like I said, it scared the shit out of me. Instead of fading as I’d expected, it just got stronger. The only thing I could do was not reach out at all.”

  “Thank you for that enlightening explanation.” She unfolded her legs and rose from the couch. “I think we’ve had enough wine for tonight. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to call a cab or an Uber for you. Get you back to the hotel. This was a huge mistake.”

  He set down his wine, stood and grabbed her arms, pulling her toward him.

  “I’m trying to tell you I’m the one who made the mistake. I was scared to accept my feelings for you. Worried I’d lose, I don’t know, freedom or whatever the hell I thought I had. Have to adjust my well-ordered life. But then, when weeks had passed and I hadn’t reached out to you, I had such an empty feeling growing inside me. And the sense that in my own stupidity I’d thrown away something very special.”

  “But you still didn’t call,” she pointed out.

  “No. I was confused because I’d never felt anything this strong for anyone before. Not a good recommendation for a man my age. And by then I was embarrassed. And scared. Worried that you’d act exactly the way you did last night, and want nothing to do with me outside of business. For which, by the way, you’re totally justified.” He studied her face for a long moment, trying to see if there was a little hope there for him. There had to be, or she wouldn’t have brought him home with her, right?

  He took a deep breath, cupped her face and pressed his mouth to hers. Gently, at first, just touching the softness of her lips. It was like kissing velvet. He licked the surface, a gentle swipe of his tongue before nudging her mouth open and sliding that tongue inside.

  Easy, John. Take it slow.

  But exerting that kind of control was very hard, because all the pent-up need for her was ready to explode. She tasted so damn good. So fucking good. He’d forgotten how just the flavor of her worked its way into every corner of his being. Holding himself back, he licked the silky softness inside her mouth, a slow, languorous movement of his tongue coaxing hers to dance with his.

  It was only when they both ran out of breath that he lifted his lips from hers, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on her. For the first time since he’d seen her again, he felt there might be hope for them. For him. He was still shocked at the intensity of his feelings for her, but he wanted t
o see where this would go. He’d managed to convince her to bring him home with her. He wasn’t about to do anything now to fuck it up again until he found out what they had.

  She wrapped her slim fingers around his wrists but didn’t pull his hands away. Instead she studied his eyes, her own swirling with emotion.

  “Please give us a chance, Lindsey. I swear I won’t disappoint you again.”

  She took so long to answer him he was sure she was going to tell him to forget it. But when she spoke, her words shocked him.

  “I am probably the dumbest woman alive,” she said at last. “If you hurt me again, I’ll dismember you and scatter the body parts over seven states.”

  He laughed softly. “And you’d have the right to.” He touched her mouth with his, a light brushing movement. “It seems I have my work cut out for me, a job I look forward to with everything I have to give. Thank you, Lindsey, for giving me a second chance. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers again, wanting to ravish it but restraining himself. Slow at first, because he didn’t want to scare her away. Or, worse yet, make her think this was all he was after, because it wasn’t. He didn’t want her to think this was just about sex, because it was a lot more. She was a smart, savvy, complex woman and he wanted her in his life. He had one chance to get it right and he wasn’t going to blow it.

  This time he nibbled at her soft lips, running the tip of his tongue over the sensitive flesh in a gentle tease. Threading his fingers through the silk of her hair, he tilted her head this way and that. Her fragrance filled his nostrils, something with a trace of honeysuckle combined with the outdoors. Then he trailed his lips down the slender column of her neck, taking a nip here and there.

  She moaned at the tiny erotic caresses and pressed herself against him. He felt the soft roundness of her breasts against the hard muscle of his chest. Sliding his tongue between her lips again, gliding it over the slickness of her own, he eased his hand down to cup the curve of her ass and squeezed.