“Who is she?” Kelly asked, beaming up at him. “How long have you known her? What’s she like?”
“Slow down, there’s no date.”
Watching Kelly’s face fall, he felt a little sad. Had the morning at the bakery been a date? Maybe they were dating. “I’m helping a friend teach a class.”
“A woman friend?” She didn’t bother to mask the hopefulness in her voice.
“Craig’s sister-in-law. Sophie.” He watched Kelly’s face as he said the name. Could she tell?
“Sophie.” Her eyebrow arched. “What kind of class?”
He was not going there. “It’s a yoga class for couples.” Omit, don’t lie. That was Sophie’s philosophy. Damn if it didn’t seem to be working. “Craig and Daphne usually teach it, but she’s on bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy. Sophie fills in for her, and I do Craig’s part.”
“Daphne’s okay, right?” Kelly asked, putting her folded linens back in the basket.
“Seems to be. Craig’s freaking out, though.”
“That’s what he does.” Kelly smiled. “Is it at one of Strong Gyms?”
“No, Working It Out. It’s a women-only center Daphne and Sophie own.”
Kelly picked up her basket and headed back for the laundry room. “In the Pearl District. I’ve heard of it. You know they teach a class…” The basket hit the floor with a slap, and she spun around. “Get out!”
David’s stomach twisted. His baby sister had figured out exactly what kind of class he was helping teach. “It’s not what you think.”
“That class is for committed couples only! How long have you been keeping this from me?”
His mind whirled. Just how popular was this class? “How did you know that?”
Kelly looked him in the eye. “Kevin and I are on the waiting list.” Kelly and Kevin had been together since high school and engaged for three years. If Kevin weren’t attending medical school in Washington and Kelly at OHSU, they’d be married by now. He figured they were having sex, but he didn’t want to think about it. He shook the thought from his head and marched into the living room.
“You didn’t answer my question.” She chased after him. “How long has this been going on?” He ignored her, still trying to block the mental image of his sister showing up for that class.
“No wonder,” Kelly said, sinking into the leather sofa.
He rolled his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t been going out lately. You know, on your little trolling expeditions.”
He didn’t want to think about how long it had been since he’d had sex. Sophie kept showing him that it had been far too long.
“You’re reading this all wrong, Kelly. It’s not what you think. I’m just helping her, nothing more. She’s really not my type.”
“That could be a good thing.”
He was starting to think so, too.
…
Sophie shifted her weight, crossing her legs beneath her as she sorted through the reports in the file. Her morning Pilates class left her energized, even with last night’s lack of sleep, and she wanted to take another look. She’d glanced through the financial statements from Strong Gyms Inc. when she’d found the file on her desk this morning. She set it aside at first, knowing that David must have forgotten the file.
The forensic accountant in her wanted to look further. She’d noticed something earlier, and on further inspection she smiled, knowing she was right. She scribbled a few more notes, excited to be using her skills again. She genuinely enjoyed auditing, liked the mystery-solving aspect of finding things people hoped would stay hidden. It was the long hours of her old job she could do without.
The intercom rang, pulling her attention away. “David Strong is on line two for you. He says it’s important.”
She’d been caught. She broke out in a cold sweat. If she brought her findings up with him, she’d be breaking his no-talking-business rule, though his rules didn’t really apply to her. Still, he wasn’t going to be happy that she peeked, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she helped.
Sophie clenched her fists to stop her fingers from trembling before she picked up the receiver. Play it cool.
“You don’t know what you’re looking for, do you?” she asked, hoping to take him off-guard.
“What?”
She smiled, it worked. “With the reports you left on my desk.”
“Oh, good. I was hoping they were there.” She heard him let out a breath.
“How much?”
“How much what?”
“How much do you think is missing?”
“Oh, the reports. I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing.” His light, calm voice suddenly turned tense with realization. “Wait, you looked through the reports?”
Did he want her to deny what she’d already admitted to? She needed to redirect him and end the long, awkward silence echoing through the phone line. “You don’t know what or how much you’re looking for?”
He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t seem right, but everything adds up. I can’t kick the feeling that something is off.”
“I could recommend a firm,” she offered.
“No, no,” he said quickly. Very quickly, she noticed. “I don’t want to involve anyone else until I know what I’m dealing with.”
Sophie shrugged. “Okay. I’ve made a list of reports you should run that will help you narrow down where you should be looking.”
His sigh was audible across the phone line. “Thanks. This is the kind of thing you did before, right?”
“No problem. It feeds my brain. I actually miss accounting that goes beyond simple debits and credits. How sick is that?” She laughed at herself. “It’s a good hunch, David.”
“Thank you. I’ll run over and pick them up.”
She waited, hoping he might ask her to join him for lunch, dinner, a walk on the waterfront, anything. But she got nothing. “I’ll leave them at the desk.”
…
He should have knocked, but Sophie’s office door was open. She sat crossed-legged in her office chair, typing on her laptop so fast the tapping on the keyboard sounded like rain. His folder of financial statements sat on the corner of her desk. He’d never been so careless with sensitive material before, but he’d also never been so distracted.
He hated to be interrupted when he was focused, so he waited for her to pause, to notice he’d taken up residence in her doorway. She wore cat-eye glasses, and her usual uniform of sweats with thick, fuzzy socks on her feet. Giant monthly calendars hung on the far wall, color coded with instructor and staff schedules. The wall next to the door had a grid of square pictures—landscapes and food and selfies of the employees. Dozens of pictures, and Sophie was in half of them, smiling and jumping, posing and making that ridiculous duck face women thought was attractive.
“This face,” he said, tapping the picture. “Don’t do that. Tell all your friends.”
She spun the chair around and burst out laughing. “It’s supposed to be ironic.”
“It’s a crime, is what it is.”
“When I started working here, that entire wall was nothing but gym selfies, showing off abs and butts and arms. I get it, fitness is what we do, but it’s not what we’re about. We don’t focus on bodybuilding, six-packs, and run-until-you-puke methods. We’re here to give a comfortable place for women who want to take good care of themselves.”
“Results are what drive business. And a picture wall in the office isn’t exactly marketing.”
“You’re about results. We’re about a supportive environment. That includes the instructors and staff. Besides, it’s fun.” Her eyes sparkled as she gave a teasing grin. Her gaze dropped to the box he held. “What did you bring me?”
“I need a favor.” He offered her the silver crescent-shaped box.
“Wow, Moonstruck chocolates. You must need some kind of favor.”
“What’s your favorite?” he asked, pulling the box out of her reac
h.
“Favorites are so overrated.” She pouted, leaning closer to him. Close enough for him to breathe in her sweet almond scent.
“Come on, play along.” He’d been so confident when he’d ordered the box.
“Don’t you mean play fair?” Amusement flickered in her sparkling eyes. “Okay, let me think.” As she pondered the question, she wrapped a dark curl round and round her finger. “Extra Bittersweet is fantastic for a chocolate craving.”
Well, damn. He hadn’t even considered that one.
“But the Ocumarian is probably my favorite. They get the chocolate from the Ocumare valley in Venezuela and blend it with chili pepper. It’s fantastic. Have you tried it?”
His cheeks begin to ache from smiling so hard. He’d known it.
He handed her the box, watching as she opened it greedily. “There’s only two kinds,” she said, looking up at him.
“Your favorite and mine, Italia Espresso.”
She beamed up at him, her cheeks glowing pink all the way to her eyelashes. “How did you know which was my favorite? You didn’t ask Craig, did you? He has a serious chocolate ban.”
He rolled his eyes. “Forget Craig. I’m making a gesture. If you don’t want them…”
“No!” Sophie held onto the chocolate like the lap-bar on a roller coaster.
He tried to bring the conversation back to the reason for his visit. “About that favor.”
“These are your favorite?” She rolled a truffle between her tiny fingers.
David nodded slowly.
“And these are all mine.” She tucked the box in her desk drawer. “You must be dying for a bite. I wonder—if I ate this, would you kiss me just for a taste?”
He enjoyed the banter as much as she did, but they did need to talk. He grabbed her wrist, plucked the candy from her fingers with his mouth, and chomped it down quickly.
“No fair!” Sophie squealed, jumping out of her chair.
Damn, she was cute. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her with him into the chair and across his lap to steal a teasing kiss. Setting her back on her feet, he watched as her eyes slowly fluttered open.
“Wow. That is good.” She licked her lips.
“Don’t sound so surprised or you’ll bruise my ego.”
“You could stand to be taken down a few pegs.” Sophie didn’t step back, but stayed deep inside his own personal bubble.
He smiled, looking into those eyes. Right now they were his favorite color. Bright, shining blue, a little glassy from the kiss. He’d done that. “Now, do I get my favor?”
She rested her hands on her generous hips, reminding him of what was hidden beneath the sweats she wore. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I brought chocolate.”
“Sugar to cure the sexual frustration you left me with last night? Too little, too late.”
He laughed out loud. “If I had gotten out of the car, we never would have made it up the stairs.”
“You’re all talk.” She traced the pattern of his silk tie, which redlined his imagination. “You look nice today. Very nice.”
“Sophie,” David warned as she pulled him closer.
“David,” she taunted.
“Aren’t you even curious what I want?”
“Unless it’s me, I really don’t care.” She pressed her forehead to his.
The woman was a ticking sex bomb. “Wanting you is not a problem we have. But I need your help.”
“With your missing millions?”
His posture straightened. “It’s millions? Are you sure?”
“Yes and no. In that order.”
“Damn.” He rubbed his palms on his thighs. He knew that profits weren’t as high as they should be, but that much money? How had he let it get past him? “You’ll help?”
“Actually, I’d love to. I can’t prove anything, but I could point you in the right direction. For a price.” She rested her hands on top of his.
“Can you come in tomorrow? It will be easier on a Saturday. I don’t want a lot of questions from the staff until I know what I am dealing with.” And whom.
…
Sophie sat across from David as he furiously plugged away at his computer, printing the reports she had listed, leaving her to ponder the two pictures that sat beside the screen. They were the only personal effects in the huge office that was minimally decorated in glass, chrome, and leather.
She looked at the snapshot on his desk of two little boys standing in front of a tent. From the way it was sloping, she guessed they’d put it up themselves. Even with the faded color of the photo, she recognized Craig’s fire-red hair.
“I didn’t realize you and Craig had been friends so long.”
“Yeah, since second grade. We were neighbors,” he answered without looking up.
She studied the picture closer. The brown-eyed little boy grinned proudly up at her, his face rounder and softer than she would have guessed. “You’ve always been tall.” She set the picture back on his desk next to a snapshot of a little girl with white-blond pigtails.
“Thank you for not mentioning I was fat.”
“What?” she asked, eyeing the picture again. “You weren’t fat. Maybe it’s standing next to Craig that makes you think that. I guess he was always a toothpick.” He was round, but he was what, eight years old? Kids’ bodies weren’t supposed to be chiseled like his was now.
“Yeah, and a bully magnet. Guys were always trying to snap him like a twig.” He spun around, whipped papers off the laser printer, and sorted them.
“You protected him?”
“You don’t mess with bulk like that,” he said with a sad chuckle. “We helped each other.”
“Oh no. Did he start telling you what to eat back then?” she asked, attempting levity.
He laughed, loud and long and full. She loved making him laugh.
“No, not until high school when we decided to go into bodybuilding, like my dad. He read everything about bodybuilding, and we worked out all the time. It worked for me, but the poor guy has never been able to gain an ounce.”
She leaned closer. “Bastard,” she said, eliciting another peal of laughter from him. She loved the way he sounded when he laughed.
“Craig can’t help it, trust me. I’ve seen him try.” He looked up and caught her. She wasn’t watching him, she was ogling. She brought a hand to her mouth and checked for drool. She was relieved to find she hadn’t embarrassed herself that much.
“Here is the last round of statements.” He broke their eye contact abruptly. “You can look at them in here, or I could get a conference room for you.”
“No, here is good. Unless it will disturb you.” She had to give him an out, though the only reason she was here was to share air with the man.
“No, of course not. Besides, you’ll probably have questions.”
“Right,” she said, pulling the folders toward herself. She prayed she could find something that would help him. Something that might mean she would have to spend more time here, near him, looking deeper. “You still haven’t told me what made you suspect money was missing in the first place.”
“Do you need to know?” he asked, his face tense, almost pained.
“Not if you don’t want to tell me.” She began looking through the reports. It wasn’t long before she was swept away, the accounts and amounts coming alive in her brain. She liked chasing the numbers around, trying to catch a thief. Sometime between the January and September reports, David must have left the room. Sophie didn’t even notice until he walked back through his office door and handed her a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” she said. She finished her notes, opened the bottle, and drained it.
He chuckled. “I thought so.”
“Excuse me?”
“You were thirsty.”
“Oh yeah, I guess I was.”
“How’s it going?”
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me into your network?”
“Have at it,” Davi
d offered, booting up the program. “How much longer?”
“Depends. Why?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at his face. “I warn you. If you say you have a date, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
He smiled. “I’m hungry.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re always hungry.”
“Sophie, we’ve been here for six hours, and all I’ve been able to find is stale pretzels.”
“Oh.” She checked the time on the bottom of David’s computer. Two eighteen. Where had the time gone? “You do know that I’m doing an extremely accelerated search, that usually I would spend months documenting things before I’d get this far?”
He nodded. “Of course. How about if I order a pizza? Do you like Pizzicato?”
She shrugged as the spreadsheets began to dance in front of her. “Hot Lips is better.”
“Sophie, you promised no kissing until after.”
“Hot Lips Pizza, you pervert. I thought you actually lived in this town. Pizzicato is too gourmet for me. Hot Lips is more New York. They have a store right by the university, so I got hooked. They also have one in the Pearl District, way too close to Working It Out.” She smiled and looked up at his confused expression. “Whatever you want.”
“What’s good?”
“The brownies.”
…
“The delivery driver had one of those electric cars,” David said, setting the pizza box on the coffee table in his office. The smell of garlic and melted cheese wafted to her nose as he opened the box.
Sophie turned from the printer and smiled. “Maybe that’s what I should get.”
He shrugged as he started to inhale the pizza. Half Veggie Nirvana no olives, half Omnivore Bliss. “You should get something you’re willing to park.”
“I know. The van was going to waste, so I donated it to a family at my parents’ church.” She returned to what she’d found, not wanting to hear another lecture on trade-in value like she had gotten from Craig and Daphne.
As good as it felt to be tracking down wandering debits again, she never missed this next part of the process. No one liked to get bad news, and considering what she was about to say, he really wasn’t going to like it. She wondered if it would be easier coming from her, or if he might blame her for finding it.
Compromising Positions (Invested in Love) Page 7