In It For the Money

by Cathy Perkins

  “It’s not a done deal,” she told him. “I still have a lot of numbers to crunch. Donna is fine with an installment purchase of her shares or the bookkeeping practice, thank God. Dad’s being unrealistic. His attorney probably told him to take the all-cash-now position.” She shook her head. “That isn’t how a professional service firm is sold, and Dad knows it. I have a meeting scheduled next week with a woman I knew from my mergers and acquisitions days.”

  “What?” Rick stiffened. “You’re working on Plan B too?”

  “No. Valuing Desert Accounting is going to be complicated because of the new work I’ve brought in—which my father is not getting credit for. I meant meeting her as an expert, for her opinion about Desert Accounting’s value. I also have to meet with a real estate agent and a banker about refinancing my condo if I decide to keep it. Whatever those numbers are, I still need a lump sum for the initial buy-in.” She shook her head again. “Why am I telling you this?”

  “Because I’m your friend, and you need to process your decision.”

  “That means a lot. I’ll try to keep the family part out of the office.”

  “We’ve been friends a long time. I get it. If you need to talk, I’ll listen.” He rose. A teasing note entered his voice. “But if you expect me to keep working here, you’re buying new chairs for this office.”

  He staggered out the door.

  She stared at the empty doorway. So many decisions to make…

  If she could pull off the purchase, it was good to know Rick had her back.

  If only she had the same confidence in her relationship with JC. He was supposed to be a key person in her decision. But instead of helping her think and talk through it, he’d reverted to his usual Save the World role, and thought he could pay for the firm. Generous, but so…uninformed.

  And so not what she needed.

  She sighed. How—why—could Rick be so understanding when JC didn’t even seem to see the need?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Temptation (Heaven 17)

  Holly relegated Frank, the DEA, George, her parents, and even JC to separate compartments in her brain, closed those doors and focused on client yearend preparations. The day flew past as staff came and went while she reviewed their work, and either relayed the information to clients or scheduled a follow-up session with the principals.

  Later that afternoon, her desk phone rang, the double tone of an outside call. “Desert Accounting, Holly Price speaking.”

  “Holly, Dennis Ashiro here.”

  She nearly dropped the handset. Devon Edwards, her friend at Falcon, Inc., had recently warned her their boss—who apparently had conveniently forgotten he’d granted Holly a leave of absence—was going to call with an ultimatum. In spite of Ashiro agreeing to the yearlong leave, Devon had said they really needed experienced people now.

  “This is a surprise,” she said. “Nice to hear from you.” Keep cool. You don’t know what Ashiro wants.

  Devon had put it succinctly. Make a choice. Return to Seattle and resume her career with Falcon, or permanently lose the position Holly had worked her butt off to obtain.

  “I have meant to call several times over the past year and see how you were doing, but I did not want to intrude.” Smooth, faintly accented, just as she remembered his voice.

  Past year? It had been only seven months. Closer to eight. Whatever. Ashiro couldn’t be bothered until he needed something. The question was, what did he need?

  “Things have gotten very busy with the improvement in the economy,” he continued.

  The improving economy had spurred a surge of corporate transactions. All those big companies, which had been sitting on loads of cash, were ready to spend it—by buying smaller, innovative companies that filled a niche need. Someone needed to perform the required due diligence. That had been her specialty before she returned to the Tri-Cities. According to Devon, Falcon was working at full speed.

  “That sounds encouraging,” she said. “I’ve certainly noticed the increase in business.”

  Stay neutral. Let Ashiro put the first offer on the table, but don’t let him think you’re desperate. On the other hand, he who made the first move, set the stage for negotiation. “By the time I get back next spring”—if I go back—”transactions will be in full swing.”

  “Yes. That is why I am calling.”

  “Oh?” Don’t make me choose. Not yet. Her fingers tightened around the receiver.

  An annoying voice in her head slithered out like the serpent around the apple tree. Why not go back?

  She could push her mother to pass the CPA exam or sell the practice.

  Buy the practice. Force JC to make a decision...

  Or was it force her to make a decision about him?

  “You remember Project Raintree?” Ashore continued. “You worked on it shortly before your sabbatical began.”

  At least he remembered it was a temporary one-year leave.

  “Of course,” she said. “At the last minute, they pulled the project and decided not to complete the transaction.”

  “At the time. They’ve changed the deal somewhat and are taking a fresh look at it.”

  She twined the phone cord around her fingers. “How does that involve me?”

  “We are short-handed. I need you to return and run it. Otherwise, I must find someone else.”

  Just lay it out there. Not that she’d ever known Ashiro to be subtle.

  “We agreed to a year,” she reminded him.

  “Things change.”

  Some things didn’t. Ashiro was still a bully. Had she ever called him on that? Admitted it, even to herself?

  “I have commitments here I have to honor,” she said carefully.

  He made a noise that from someone else might’ve been a raspberry. Annoyance threaded into his tone. “You are working for a small town accounting firm. A trained monkey could handle those chores.”

  Fury blossomed in the pit of her stomach. It was part of what drove her crazy about her crowd in Seattle. Accountants, attorneys, investment bankers, and venture capitalists—they all thought they were smarter—and more important—than the rest of the world.

  “Actually, it’s more complicated than you realize.” She kept her tone cool, professional. She couldn’t believe he’d lost control and made that derogatory comment.

  She’d heard people in Seattle make disparaging remarks—the condescending comments from the larger accounting firms, the rolled eyes over poorly drafted employment agreements and incentive plans, stock values pulled out of the air. It was as much the start-up company not having money to request a competent job as the local firms operating beyond their experience.

  At another level, she registered the desperation behind Ashiro’s lapse.

  “I understand you have family there,” he said. “That they can complicate matters. I have been patient while you sorted out your personal issues, but you have responsibilities here as well.”

  Actually, she’d meant the work. But trying to convince Ashiro of that was a waste of breath.

  “You never expressed any interest in staying in your hometown when you were here,” he pressed. “In fact, I recall you preferred the action and amenities of Seattle. Since I did initially agree to a longer leave of absence, I will pay you a bonus to come back early. You can hire an appropriate person to take over your work there.” The professional was back in charge.

  Was this what she wanted? Returning to Seattle, to Falcon, as a needed person?

  Could she hire someone else to run Desert Accounting? Promote Rick and let him take the lead?

  Rick had made it pretty clear he didn’t want the lead responsibility.

  A tug of war played with her emotions. Her mother was taking a cram course, studying for the CPA exam. With her own license, Donna wouldn’t be as dependent on Holly.

  And she could return to Seattle as a valued member of the team. Someone Ashiro needed.

  But right now she couldn’t leave, or her mother wo
uld lose the business. The accounting firm would have to close.

  Only a few days ago, Holly had decided to stay in Richland and buy the practice. She’d admitted she liked what she was doing.

  The silence had stretched too long. “Let me think about it,” she said. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Do not wait too long.”

  “Or there won’t be a job to come back to,” hung silent in the air.

  She wrapped up the call and slowly replaced the receiver. Despair knocked—why now? Why couldn’t Ashiro have called last week before she’d made the tentative commitment to her mother. To Rick. To Desert Accounting.

  To JC.

  Or not called, and let her resign from her position at Falcon if she moved forward with the acquisition here.

  Her father’s demand had brought the buy/sell decision to a head...but she could string out that agreement for a while. Buy some time for her final decision through negotiations over price and financing options.

  But Ashiro’s demand… If the Raintree transaction was back on the table, the diligence process would be like a volcano erupting. Documents, decisions, disclosures—everything would fly into high gear. And it would all have to be done now.

  At most, she could push off Ashiro—and his ultimatum—for a few days.

  She drew a deep breath and leaned back. The part of her that handled all those mergers, the part that registered something is not right here, poked her in the chest.

  Treat it like any other job. Trust your instincts.

  She dialed another Seattle number. Three rings later, a male voice said, “Devon Edwards.”

  “I just talked to Ashiro.”

  “So, my favorite shark is headed for chummed waters. Can’t wait to see you, girl.”

  Interesting that Devon’s “girl” didn’t bother her. But then again, Devon was...Devon.

  “What’s the deal with Raintree?” She didn’t waste time with preliminaries. “Ashiro asked me to come back and run it.”

  “Hope you got a promotion out of him. Raintree’s pretty damn insistent that it’s you or the highway.”

  Say what?

  “We’re still negotiating,” she managed to say.

  “It’s fun to see someone have him by the short and curlies for once.”

  She laughed. If she could keep Devon talking, she’d be in a better position to handle Ashiro. “There isn’t too much blood in the water at this point.”

  “Don’t suck up all the money in the bonus pool for yourself. But damn, it’ll be good to have you back.”

  “It’ll be good to see you.” She wondered if he’d notice she used the exact wording he’d used on her before letting it slip that Ashiro had hired another woman—apparently to replace Holly—earlier that year.

  Enthusiasm lit Devon’s voice. “The Raintree deal is bigger than when they pulled the plug last time. They’re looking at packaging several companies and taking it public. It’d be great exposure for you. Might even make you partner.”

  “I’m flattered, but why me?” she hedged.

  “The client wants you. On a deal this big, something that easy, why wouldn’t Falcon give them what they want?”

  “I’ve been called a lot of things, but easy isn’t one of them.”

  “I didn’t mean you, personally. I meant you coming back and running the diligence. There’s nothing keeping you over there in Deliverance-land.”

  Wasn’t there? Hadn’t she made a commitment here? More than one?

  And sure, the Tri-Cities were a fraction of the size of Seattle, but the area wasn’t exactly a backwoods nightmare. Not a banjo in sight.

  Alternative possibilities to the stay/go dilemma flashed through her mind at lightning speed.

  Holly hadn’t heard from her father after the initial demand, but clearly his lawyer had been talking to her mother’s lawyer. The faster they got rid of him, the less Holly figured she had to support him while he hung out in a sweat lodge in Arizona with his yoga instructor.

  She’d grown the accounting firm significantly. Selling Desert Accounting to a larger group was still an option. Selling the practice would solve a lot of her current problems.

  Staying and running Desert Accounting still appealed to her, however.

  Hmm. What if she added diligence to Desert Accounting’s portfolio? Could she handle the Raintree diligence job from here?

  She knew what the clients paid Ashiro. That fee would pay a lot of bills for her firm.

  It might even partly buy out her derelict dad.

  “Whatever you decide to do.” Devon’s voice dropped, as if he didn’t want anyone on his end of the connection to overhear him. “Take care of yourself. No one else is going to.”

  Holly lowered the handset, closing the connection, but his words echoed in her mind. Take care of yourself. No one else will.

  Maybe true in a business setting, but hadn’t she spent the last few months learning there was more to life than business? Didn’t she also have to consider the other people in her life?

  In addition to her parents and the clients, there was also JC. Weren’t couples supposed to talk over major decisions?

  They’d started over in their relationship. Both of them had a few battle scars and some baggage. Lately, the physical attraction definitely resonated louder than the mental.

  Rather than overthink it, she picked up her cell, woke up Siri and said, “JC.”

  The cell phone obediently pulled his contact information and dialed. Four rings later she heard his voice...directing her to leave a message.

  Damn.

  “Hi, JC. It’s Holly.”

  Wow, it said volumes that she felt like he might not recognize her voice.

  “Got a couple of things I want to talk to you about tonight. Call me.”

  He hadn’t called yesterday evening like he usually did. In fact, they hadn’t talked since their argument during lunch on Monday.

  Soooo... Was he working...or avoiding her?

  Could be either.

  Way to be supportive. Available.

  Not.

  Chapter Sixteen

  This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (Taylor Swift)

  Holly placed the last dirty glass in the dishwasher and closed the door. Tate had cooked—hamburgers and a salad from a bag, but it was still dinner—which made cleanup her job.

  The doorbell made its irritating brittz noise.

  Damn, but she had to figure out how to replace that sucker.

  Drying her hands, she strode to the door and pushed the side curtain aside.

  JC stood on her doorstep, hands tucked into his pockets.

  She opened the door. “This is a nice surprise. Didn’t expect you to stop by.”

  He leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Glad to see you’re personally opening the door and checking to see who it is instead of just yelling, ‘Come in.’“

  “That was a one-time deal.” She swept an arm in a wide circle. “All finished painting in here.”

  “You still need to lock your door.”

  “When I’m home?” Hands propped on her hips, she cocked her head. “You might’ve had a point—maybe—when a crazy person was gunning for me. But that’s over, remember?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I think there will always be someone gunning for you.”

  “Why would you say that?” Her hands rose, surrendering. “Never mind.”

  “May I come in?”

  “Sure. I’m finishing up in the kitchen.” She led the way across the empty foyer and living room.

  He followed her into the kitchen, then shed his jacket and dropped it on a counter stool.

  She picked up the dishcloth and wiped the stove. “Tate’s a slob,” she muttered. He was definitely the messiest cook she’d seen.

  Arms folded, JC studied her from the far side of the peninsula that divided the kitchen from the dining area. “You’re actually using your kitchen.”

  She paused and peered at him
. “You’re in a foul mood tonight. I know how to cook and you know it.”

  “That came out wrong. I meant since you fixed it up. That you’re enjoying it.”

  “Hmm... Have a seat. You want coffee?”

  He shook his head and claimed the seat at the head of the dining table.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She tossed the cloth into the sink, then dropped a tab into the dishwasher dispenser and pressed buttons to start the machine, using the time to organize her thoughts...and her emotions. Now that JC was here, she realized she hadn’t figured out exactly how to approach the conversation or what to say.

  “I hoped you’d call,” she said, “but maybe having this conversation face to face is better.”

  Although talking when he was in a weird mood might be counterproductive.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” Surprise—and caution—threaded his voice.

  She wondered if it was the instinctive male reaction to the word “talk.”

  “Check your voice mail often?” she drawled.

  His eyebrows twitched. “Ah.”

  “Okay.” She folded her arms. “Out with it. Why are you here?”

  He looked her square in the eye. “I need to talk with Tate about Shaw.”

  She took a step toward the front door. “How does that song go? Something about friends and second chances and then you stab me in the back?”

  He frowned. “How is this stabbing you in the back?”

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve used our personal relationship in an investigation.” Closing her eyes for a silent count to ten, she shook her head. “You need to leave.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  “Who was at the door?” Tate strode into the room. He looked from her to JC and seemed to register the tension. “Oh. Am I interrupting?”