by Cindy Dees
He didn’t particularly relish the idea of racing Paradeo’s violent security chief to identify whoever was brave enough to steal from a vicious and efficient drug cartel.
Chloe was speaking again, “But I need a computer and internet access to do it.”
“Done.” He leaned over and picked up the telephone. In a moment, the owner of the B and B had agreed to send up a laptop computer and a laser printer within the hour.
“How did you get the owner of this place to do that for you?” she asked curiously as he hung up.
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because you could steal the thing and rip him off.”
He shrugged. “I told him to buy me new equipment and charge it to my room bill.”
“You charged a computer to room service?” she asked incredulously.
“Better living through trust-fund-assisted convenience,” he remarked dryly.
“No kidding,” she grumbled.
“Is my having money a deal breaker?” he asked soberly.
“Depends on the deal,” she replied cautiously.
Now there was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. What deal, indeed?
Chapter 9
She slept that night, and Trent slept the next day while she worked. Herrera had mentioned small amounts taken from many accounts she had access to, and now that Chloe knew what she was looking for, the work went more quickly. She was able to pick out the trail of the laundering from the trail of the embezzling more easily. If someone was taking money from Paradeo, the thief was doing it very well and leaving practically no traces.
As the day wore on, though, something else began to dawn on Chloe. Herrera hadn’t been wrong. The missing funds all came from accounts she was directly responsible for. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was the thief. Alarm started to vibrate low in her gut, gradually growing in volume and intensity as the afternoon wore on.
Who else in the company had access to the same accounts she did? She poked around but no one else had exactly the same financial footprint as hers. Paradeo was a highly compartmentalized company, and no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find anyone else with access to all of her accounts. Not good. Not good at all.
Trent woke and immediately asked that food be brought up to them, but she ignored the plate he set down beside her. Eventually, he actually took her by the shoulders and turned her away from the computer. “You need to take a break, Chloe. Eat. Drink some water. Stretch your muscles a little.”
Now that he mentioned it, her stomach was growling and her throat did feel rough with thirst. It didn’t help that her alarm had grown into panic clawing at the back of her throat.
“Any progress?” he asked as she picked up a sandwich and commenced eating.
She winced. “I’m on the trail of something. I’ve identified a number of tampered-with transactions, and now that I’ve seen what accounts the thief is targeting and how he or she is disguising the thefts, I should be able to spot more fishy transactions quickly. Once I do that, I ought to be able to give you an idea of how much money has been stolen.”
“When will you know who’s taking it?”
“Honestly, it looks like I’m the only person with access to all the accounts the thief stole from. I may have a hard time finding someone else to add to the suspect list.” She blurted, “I’ve got to solve this or else I could be in serious trouble.”
“Are you being framed?”
She stared at him in dismay. It was entirely possible. But who could be setting her up?
“You’ll figure it out,” he said encouragingly. But his smile didn’t reach his beautiful gaze. Instead, worried crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. Worry that she shared in spades.
“The FBI will crack this thing as soon as they look at the files I sent them, and they’ll come looking for me. They could knock on that door at any minute,” she admitted, giving voice to her greatest fear. Urgency tightened her entire body into a tense mass of jangling nerves. She was running out of time. “I didn’t sign up for this, Trent. I’m just a lousy accountant doing what I was hired to do, darn it.”
He snorted. “Just an accountant a major drug cartel is trying to kill. Clearly, you’re more important and more knowledgeable than you seem to think.”
“I don’t see how. Anyone with the most rudimentary forensic accounting training could do what I’m doing.”
Trent tilted his head, his gaze surprised. “Seriously?”
She nodded, depressed.
“Why did the FBI hire you specifically, then, to investigate this firm? Do you have some particular expertise in this kind of company?”
“Honestly, I have no idea why Don hired me. I’m fresh out of school with nary a job credit on my résumé. I was shocked—and wildly grateful—when he hired me. Maybe no one else was available to move to San Francisco on short notice.”
Trent stared at her thoughtfully. “That is weird. You’ve been out of school, what, seven months? So this Fratello guy hired you straight out of college, as in—ink still wet on your diploma?”
She stared, shocked. How did Trent know so much about her? Horror flowed through her in a muddy torrent. “Did you have Novak do that deep background check on me, after all?”
“No. Your graduation date showed up in the superficial search Winston Ops performed on you right after the attack in Denver. We were purely trying to figure out why someone might want to kill you. We weren’t trying to pry into your life.”
Oh, God. She didn’t want to know what else they’d uncovered on her. Thank God she didn’t have an arrest record or any outstanding parking tickets! “You sure do your research, don’t you?” she managed to grumble past the dry tuna lodged in her throat.
A sudden, sharp longing swept over her. If only she were more to Trent than just a job. What was wrong with her that no one was interested in her as a woman? Clearly she was unlovable and managing somehow to convey that to every eligible bachelor she encountered.
“It’s my past, isn’t it?” she blurted.
Trent stared blankly. “Excuse me?”
“That’s why no one ever loves me. There’s some key lesson I failed to learn, some deep flaw in me because I got so little love in my childhood, isn’t there?”
He was in front of her almost too fast to see. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“I’m talking about me. About why nobody loves me.”
“From what I saw in Denver, your sister seems devoted to you. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of friends who care deeply about you.”
She was shocked to feel tears well up in her eyes. Good grief, what was that all about? She was never this weepy and hormonal. “I’m sorry. I guess the stress of all this is getting to me. Just ignore me.”
“No, I’m not going to ignore you. Talk to me.”
She wasn’t used to anyone getting this pushy with her and her impulse was to run and hide. But she knew how fast Trent was. No way would she reach the bathroom and get the door locked before he blocked it open. Instead, she sighed and retreated into her work. “I’ve got to get back to the computer.”
“After we talk about this. What makes you think you’re unlovable?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The empirical evidence of no one actually loving me, ever?”
“Are we talking about you wanting a long-term relationship with a man?” he asked carefully. Lord, he sounded like he thought her head was going to start spinning around in circles or demons would leap out of the top of her skull.
“I’m not crazy,” she announced.
“Okay. I believe you. You’re not crazy,” he replied evenly. He didn’t look like he was lying, thank goodness.
“Is it too much to ask for me to find someone who likes me a little?”
“I like you a lot,” he answered promptly.
“I’m talking about romantically. As in a real relationship,” she snapped.
His answer came more slowly this tim
e. “So am I.”
She stared at him, stunned. “You are not.”
“Yes, I am.” He looked as stunned as she must look.
“Are not.”
“Are you seriously going to argue with me for telling you that I like you and am interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you?” he demanded.
“I guess I am. Particularly since I don’t think you mean it.”
He snorted. “And there’s your answer. If you kick to the curb every guy who shows the slightest interest in you, you’re going to have a hell of time getting this relationship you say you crave.”
He might as well have slugged her in the stomach. Was he right? Was she pushing away anyone who cared about her? So. She was broken, after all. It was all her fault. Deflated, she pulled the laptop in front of her once more. But the focus had gone out of her search. She struggled to see patterns that had been crystal-clear to her a half hour ago. It was no use. She was done for the night.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced.
He sighed. “Okay. I’ll stand watch until you wake up.”
She glared at him. “You need more than that three-hour nap you took earlier.”
“Actually, I don’t. That’ll keep me going a couple days.”
“It’s my life. I’d say it’s my call.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And how are you planning to force me to sleep if I don’t want to?”
She pursed her lips. She might not be able to force him, but she’d bet she could tire him out enough to go to sleep on his own. As soon as she thought about sex with him, a craving to be with him, to turn herself over to him, to lose herself in him ripped through her. Was she really that needy? Or was she just more messed up in the head than she’d ever realized? She desperately wanted to escape the fear and uncertainty swirling through her and just to feel safe for once.
It dawned on her belatedly that Trent was watching her far too alertly. He looked like a tiger on the hunt. A sudden need to be his prey, to let him stalk her and conquer her made her knees weak. Did she dare?
It was crazy to even contemplate. He would break her heart as sure as she was standing here. He’d love her and leave her without a backward glance.
So, then, the trick was not to get emotionally involved with him, her inner sex kitten argued persuasively. Right. No problem. Enjoy the sex. Embrace the raw pleasure. Escape reality for a little while. And then walk away, herself. She could do that, right?
Doubt wriggled like a parasite deep within her mind, a disgusting, dark secret she shied away from in horror. She was not her parents’ child, was not ruled by passion or her emotions! She could walk away from Trent, darn it. She was in control of her world. Of her emotions. Of her life. No man would ever change that!
A desperate need to prove it to herself, to shut up that niggling doubt eating at her soul, buried itself in her gut. She had to do this. To show herself once and for all that no man would ever have the power to destroy her or her world.
Recklessness coursed through her, and she rode the wave, rising to her feet and walking resolutely to the mini-refrigerator. It was stocked with tiny bottles of various liquors just like a regular hotel.
Trent pushed away from the doorway where he leaned, watching her cautiously. His eyes blazed, but his body was taut with something more akin to caution. Tonight was her night. No matter what they did together, no matter what he made her feel, she would remain in total control of herself. She was the master of her mind, her body, and her traitorous feelings. He had no power over her, and she was going to prove it to both of them.
She pulled out a mini-bottle of whiskey, but Trent was there in a flash, lifting it out of her hands. He announced grimly, “If you have to drink in order to make love with me, you’re going to give me a serious complex.”
She stared at him in open challenge. “Don’t you think you can handle me when I cut loose? What’s the matter? Afraid of where I’ll go with you?”
His gaze burned as hot and turbulent as the core of a volcano. “I’m not afraid of you, Chloe. I can take anything you can dish out and more.”
She seriously doubted that.
But his stark observation cut through all the noise in her head, leaving behind only her determination to do this. Once and for all, she was going to purge her fear of the chaos a man would bring to her life. But could she be that brave, sexy woman that she’d been in Denver on her own? Only one way to find out.
“What do you want, Chloe?” His voice was a silken sword, so smooth and sharp it cut her to ribbons before she even realized it had touched her skin.
“I want to show you—” she corrected herself “—to show me, once and for all, that I am in control of my life.”
He tilted his head, staring at her quizzically, obviously turning over her declaration in his mind. “No one’s always in control, Chloe.”
She shook her head in denial, and he continued, ignoring her.
“Life is messy whether you like it or not. Take you, for example. You need love in the worst way, but you’re hell-bent on holding anyone who might give you that love at arm’s length. You’re so afraid of being hurt or rejected that you can’t let yourself take the chance.”
Hah! Doing this was the riskiest thing she’d ever contemplated! “You’re wrong—” she started. But he swooped in and pressed his fingers against her lips, forcibly stilling them.
“Don’t play with fire, unless you’re willing to get burned, Chloe.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.
“It means that if you plan to seduce me in some sort of twisted power play, you’d better be prepared to lose.”
She heard the words, but no meaning registered on her mind. She clung to her denial, to her determination, to her desperate need to restore order in her universe. She might not be able to stop bad guys from chasing her or trying to kill her or framing her for a crime she didn’t commit. She might not be able to keep them from trashing her apartment and slashing her clothes. But by golly, she could control this. Trent would not get inside her heart or her head. She could have the wildest, hottest sex with him either of them could imagine, and it would...not...touch...her.
Her gaze narrowed. “Give it your best shot, Trent Hollings.”
Chapter 10
Trent took a mental deep breath. This was it. Either he broke through all her barriers tonight, or odds were she’d never let anyone get close enough to try it again. Ever. And she was too vital and sensual a woman to let that happen to. She might not know it, yet, but she needed him to break down her walls. Hell, she needed him to smash them to dust.
He considered her for a moment longer. And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.
He reached slowly for the hem of her shirt and stripped it over her head. Her bra was cut low and had flirty lace trim. As his gaze dropped to the view, her hands started up to cover her cleavage.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he murmured warningly.
Her hands snapped back down abruptly, fisting at her sides. Resolution darkened her gaze. What the hell was he doing? He was no fan of sex as a form of emotional combat. Of course, she was in for a surprise when he changed up the rules of engagement for this particular battle. She thought it was a fight against him, but actually, it would be pitched war against herself.
He reached for the zipper of her jeans, and she sucked in a sharp breath. He pushed the denim down over the sweet curve of her hip, and he saw the source of her chagrin. A smile split his face. “She still wears thongs, does she? I’m so proud of you.”
Chloe scowled back at him. “It was small and easy to grab fast.”
Right. As if he bought that lame excuse. But if she still needed her excuses to explain away her entirely normal and natural urge to feel a little sexy, he would let her have them...for now.
He lifted each of her feet in turn to ease her shoes and socks off. Since he offered her no help with her balance, she ended up having to grab his shoulder to steady
herself while he massaged the arches of her slender feet. One of his goals tonight was to get her to touch him of her own free will—often and intimately, in fact.
Her right foot still cradled in his palm, he looked up at her. “If anything we do tonight gets too intense for you, let me know, okay?”
As he expected, her gaze narrowed at the implied challenge.
“I mean it, Chloe. This isn’t a competition. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Got it?”
She murmured something vaguely resembling agreement. He supposed it was the best he could hope for in her current frame of mind. She looked girded for Spanish Inquisition-style torture. Oh, he planned to torture her, all right, but not like that.
He reached around behind her, his gaze locked with hers, to unhook her bra. For just a moment, he thought he glimpsed a flash of fear. His hands froze and he waited until it faded from her gaze. He murmured, “Where’s that brave, adventurous girl from Denver who ravished me within an inch of my life? I know she can do this.”
Gratitude flickered in her azure eyes as her expression steadied and gained confidence. She nodded and whispered, “Continue.”
Her bra fell away from her beautiful, delicate breasts. He could look at them forever and never get tired of their elegant shape or the way they fit in his hands.
“Do you have to stare at me like that?” she asked a little grumpily. “It makes me self-conscious.”
He laughed darkly. “I’m going to look all I want. And then I’m going to do all I want with you.”
A fine shiver rippled across her skin. “I could really use a couple of shots of whiskey.”
He replied sympathetically, “Looking for a little liquid courage? You might lose a few inhibitions in a glass of whiskey, baby, but you’d still be the same person. Most people don’t change as much as they’d like to think when they drink, and they certainly don’t get cooler. They just get dumber.”
She smiled in spite of herself.
“Remember what I told you in Denver? Don’t overthink it.”