After That Night

by Ann Evans

  Mark found the work tedious; he liked to wheel and deal, not crunch numbers. Jenna, however, seemed invigorated by it. They worked most of the day, stopping only for a brief lunch. Sometimes they went an hour without saying anything, each absorbed in reviewing files, but often they compared notes, dug through the numbers together, tracking items that didn’t jibe. The silence between them became companionable.

  By early afternoon, they were both frustrated. Every lead went nowhere, but at least they’d found nothing to implicate Dale. The witch-hunt the Orlando accountants were on would have to wait until they came up with something more concrete.

  Mark yawned and tried to focus on the line of numbers marching across the page he held. He slid down on his spine, finding a more comfortable position on his side where he could pillow his head on one arm. He looked over at Jenna. From this angle, all he could see was her profile, the slim column of her neck. She was deep in concentration, her lips pursed as she ran down a long list of data from some report.

  It was sweet of her to give this problem such close attention. Not exactly fascinating stuff. Not exactly the kind of activity he usually indulged in on a big, soft bed. He reached out to move his hand up and down her backbone in a lingering rhythm. Under his fingers, her robe was satiny smooth, the kind of material that made you think of warm nights and cool sheets.

  And yet, he didn’t feel the need to go any further, even if they could have. It felt nice to be together like this. He’d never have guessed that he could pull sex out of the equation and still enjoy himself with a woman.

  She turned her head toward him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t.”

  She removed his hand from her back and placed it firmly on his own hip, giving it a final pat. Her mouth tilted into a smile. She lifted one finger and wagged it back and forth at him—a refusal to play any games.

  I’m losing my touch, Mark thought, stifling another sleepy yawn. In bed with a scantily clad woman, and all she wants to do is read accounting reports…

  He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew Jenna’s voice called him back from the brink of dreams. “Mark, wake up. I want to show you something.”

  He opened his eyes. Jenna was stretched out beside him, her face so close he see each tiny eyelash. He reached over to run the back of his fingers across her lips. They parted slightly. “Okay, show me whatever you want,” he said. “But if I’m dreaming, don’t wake me.”

  She caught his hand and gave the tip of one finger a playful nip. “You’re not dreaming. Listen, I want to talk to you about your accounts-payable records.”

  He sighed heavily and pushed himself farther up on the pile of pillows. “Lord, you do know how to put a damper on things.”

  Jenna swung upright to scan a computer report that stretched in an accordion fold from one end of the bed to the other. “Do you know if Atlanta’s reader circulation is up or down from last year?”

  “Of course I know. It’s up.”

  “What percentage?”

  “Year-to-date, we’re up seventeen percent.”

  She tapped her steepled fingers together thoughtfully. “That has to be it.”

  “What has to be it?”

  She scooted around to face him. “I think you do have an embezzler. In your accounting office.”

  Mark’s gut sank like a stone. He didn’t want to hear this.

  “Not possible,” he said stubbornly. “We have internal controls, a clear separation of duties, independent audits twice a year.”

  She waved away that argument with one hand. “You can’t stop a clever employee who’s determined to steal from you. It happens all the time in the best of companies.”

  She lifted one of the reports off her lap and dropped it on his. Thick and detailed, it contained purchasing records for the past year. Beside many entries, Jenna had made notations in red ink.

  “Check this out,” she said, pointing to one of the entries she’d marked. “One of your biggest expenses is paper, and for years you’ve done business with United Press Works, a supplier well-known in Atlanta. We use them ourselves at the magazine.” She brought her finger down to another entry. “But this year, for some unknown reason, you’ve gone to a second supplier, as well, Fine Print. Comparing last year’s total paper consumption with this year, you’re up sixty-two percent. And the year’s not even over yet. So…if circulation is up only seventeen percent, how can you be going through more paper than the U.S. mint?”

  He thought about it for a moment, then met her waiting gaze. “Larger circulation, more ads. The news hole goes up proportionally, so we’ll blow through more paper.”

  “Not this much more.”

  “You think Fine Print is a dummy account.”

  She nodded and reached for the Yellow Pages on her bedside table. Flipping to the listings marked Paper, she said, “If it’s not, then they need to reconsider their advertising budget. They’re not even listed in the phone book.”

  “Because they don’t exist.”

  “Well, I’ve never heard of them, and that’s what made me curious. Last year I put out bids to every paper company in town to try to get our costs down. And look at this,” she said, pulling yet another report across her lap. She was excited, an accounting Sherlock Holmes. Only, the guilty party she fingered as the culprit in all this might still turn out to be his old friend. “According to your warehouse records, none of Fine Print’s deliveries ever had a packing slip or shipper’s list. Either your warehouse guys were very sloppy about checking in received goods or—”

  “They never got them in the first place.”

  “Right. And in spite of a company policy that states every shipment has to have a packing slip to get paid, all the invoices were approved. Authorized by one person.”

  He didn’t want to ask. But he had to know. “Who?”

  “Harvey Dellarubio. The assistant controller.”

  His heart skipped a beat, then did a relieved somersault. He was so profoundly glad to hear anyone’s name but Dale’s. Without even thinking, he took Jenna’s head in both his hands, pulled her to him and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her slightly parted lips.

  She looked stunned. After a few moments of complete speechlessness, she gave him a soft, feminine smile and said with a small laugh, “Gosh, when I talk accounting to Vic, all I ever get is ‘Good job, Jenna.’”

  If she only knew. Relief washed through him, and with it came another sensation, less definable but more exquisite in its power, one that made his heart reel.

  His thumbs caressed the sides of her face, those lean, high cheekbones, then the sweet curve of her jaw. “Jenna,” he said softly, “you’re an incredible woman. Do you know that?”

  Her eyelids dropped as though they had weights on them. She bit her lip, then raised her eyes to look at him again. “You ought to see what I can do with a P & L statement.”

  She was nervous; he could tell by the quaver in her voice. He turned her loose, aware he could go no further with her, not right now, anyway. He cleared his throat, squinting down at the report in front of him and not seeing a damned thing. “Okay, so let’s say it’s Harv Dellarubio that’s the bad guy here. How do I prove it?”

  He watched her swallow convulsively, then turn her attention back to the matter at hand. “You could call purchasing and have them pull the contract with Fine Print. See if he negotiated it. Find out where Fine Print’s checks are sent. I’ll bet it’s a post-office box, and it would be interesting to see who picks them up. I’d have payroll do an audit, too. See if he signed off on any personnel requisitions. A lot of times there will be phantom employees getting paychecks, as well.”

  Mark shook his head in disbelief. “I think this guy’s been with us for years.”

  “That’s usually the way it is. I’ll bet he never takes vacations. Probably works long hours. An embezzler can’t afford to have the boss going through his desk. It’s too dangerous.”

&n
bsp; “I’ll make a few calls.” Suddenly remembering that the afternoon was slipping away, Mark glanced at his watch. He scrambled off the bed, yanking on his shoes. “I have to go. Time to pick up the boys.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time.”

  “I can’t be late. Pete would never let me live it down. Oh, and don’t forget, he’s got batting practice today, so we’ll be at least a couple of hours.”

  She gave him a strange look.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  She blinked, seeming to come to. “Nothing really. It’s just that you sound so…so daddylike right now. Like you’re really part of a family and you know how it’s supposed to work.”

  “I told you, I’m a quick study. And once I set my mind to something, eventually I get it right, so don’t underestimate me.” He stretched across the bed to give her a quick kiss and flick her nose playfully with his finger. “Now find me something else I can take to the auditors. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do my best. What culinary delight have you got planned for tonight’s dinner, Chef?”

  He grimaced as he tucked his shirt into the back of his pants. “I have to admit, once I’ve done macaroni-and-cheese and burgers, we’re in uncharted territory.”

  “Tell you what,” she said with a grin. “Tonight the boys and I will take pity on you. We’ll order out. What do you say?”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  THOSE COUPLE OF HOURS flew by.

  Right after Mark left, the doctor’s office called. Jenna’s test results reflected iron-deficiency anemia. Jenna’s relief was so great she didn’t even mind the doctor’s lecture on eating healthier foods. She promised to stop by the office the next day to pick up vitamin supplements.

  Some sort of celebration seemed in order. By the time Mark returned home with the boys, she’d whipped up the family’s favorite meat loaf and mashed potatoes. She met the three of them at the front door.

  Mark frowned when he saw that she’d changed out of her nightgown and into shorts and a T-shirt. “You’re not supposed to—”

  “The doctor’s office called,” she interrupted with a broad smile plastered across her face. “Everything’s fine.”

  She gave him the rest of the news. Petey and J.D. hugged her and so did Mark, although his lasted a little longer and she felt his lips coast along the shell of her ear. She shooed the three of them upstairs to get cleaned up while she poured iced tea and milk into glasses.

  Dinner was noisy and fun. The boys and Mark seemed to have developed some secret language all their own. There were inside jokes and looks that passed among them that Jenna had no understanding of. She didn’t mind. It was good to see Petey and J.D. so animated.

  Occasionally Mark’s eyes met hers, and each glance they exchanged felt as revealing as a kiss. The conversation remained light and easy, but sometimes he’d raise an eyebrow at her; or his lips would quirk in amusement—a silent communication to her. It made her feel unsteady, as if all that bedrest had softened her bones.

  The truth was, tonight it felt like family.

  She couldn’t help comparing it to the bitter farce her marriage to Jack had become. He had never really connected with his sons, had never seemed to want to. Most of the time he found their behavior irritating, and no amount of pithy lectures and displays of exasperation from Jenna had changed a thing.

  She sat at one end of the table, listening to Mark capture the boys’ attention with a riddle. If she agreed to marry him, life could not always be like this—a cozy family meal centered around shared laughter and common goals and mutual caring. Could she create a new background with Mark, begin new traditions with someone who claimed not to believe in love?

  It might never be the fairy-tale marriage she’d always dreamed of, but how many unions were these days?

  Those questions still pestered her mind even after dinner had been cleared away and the boys trooped into the living room to watch television. Jenna had taken the last glass off the table when Mark caught her close, settling his hands on her hips.

  “Time to kiss the cook,” he said so softly the boys couldn’t hear.

  He nuzzled the side of her face. She angled her head, so that his mouth connected with hers. He gave her a deep, lazy kiss.

  It would be so easy to be with him, she thought. The easiest thing she’d ever done.

  When he squeezed her hand, she raised her eyes to his. “I’m glad the baby is all right,” he told her.

  “Me, too.”

  “You’re not still worried, are you? You were very quiet toward the end of dinner.”

  “I was watching you and the boys,” she said. “Thinking how nice it felt to be sitting there, just the four of us.”

  A gleam ignited in his eyes. “It can be like that every night, Jenna. All you have to do is say yes.”

  She shook her head. “It can’t be like that every night. No one’s that lucky. What are you going to do when Petey gets disrespectful or J.D. flunks math? Or you can’t get any sleep because of 2:00 a.m. feedings or bouts of colic or teething?”

  He grinned at her. “Have you ever considered working for Planned Parenthood? You make parenting sound like an eternity spent in the dentist’s chair.”

  “Sometimes it feels like that. And forget about the kids for a moment. Think about how your life could change. What are you going to do when you’re face-to-face with rampant crabgrass or plumbing that goes haywire? Or air-conditioning that goes on the fritz in the middle of summer?”

  His eyes were twinkling now. He tried to look distressed, but his mouth just wouldn’t stop smiling. “Where are we going to live? In the Amityville Horror?”

  “Be serious,” she admonished, punching him lightly on the chest. “Do you see yourself enjoying those kinds of challenges?”

  “No. But the phone book is filled with companies that do.”

  “Will that be the answer for everything? Gardeners and housekeepers, and maybe even a nanny to keep the kids out of your hair? I want someone who can embrace life in the suburbs, not find a way to keep it at arm’s length.”

  “So we’ll both have to make some compromises to make this work.”

  She stroked his shirt, wishing she could get through to him. Beneath her hand she imagined she could feel Mark’s heart pounding, strong and sure. “I think I know all the things marriage to you will bring me.” She looked up. “Some of them are wonderful. But for the sake of your own happiness, don’t you think you ought to consider what I’ll be able to give you in return?”

  “Jenna—”

  “Mark! C’mere!” J.D. called from the living room. “This is our favorite show!”

  “I’m being summoned,” Mark said with a regretful smile.

  Jenna nodded. “I’ll collect your things. I’m glad you were here, but now that the test results are back, there’s really no reason for you to spend the night again.”

  He tipped up her chin. The look in his eyes was playful and sexy. “I can think of one. Can’t you?”

  She pushed out of his arms before her defenses crumbled. “Not one that would make things any easier.”

  Upstairs she sat on her bed and tried to think. In spite of her worry over the baby’s health, the day had been so wonderful. The quiet, easy companionship she and Mark had shared. Intimate and yet comfortable. She’d never experienced that with any other man.

  What am I waiting for? Why don’t I just give in and thank God?

  Awash in emotions she hadn’t dealt with in years, Jenna reached across the bed to snag Mark’s briefcase. She wouldn’t think about it anymore tonight. Dealing with practical matters always seemed to clear her head. She would just concentrate on making all the records they’d torn apart today turn back into a tidy pile of reports and files.

  The notes she’d made about the assistant controller’s possible embezzlement, the suspicious records she’d encountered, those all needed to go in Mark’s briefcase where they could be
easily retrieved. But when Jenna flipped the latches open on the case, more files slid out of one of the side pockets.

  Tapping them back in order, she was about to return the paperwork to the briefcase when she happened to notice the heading of the top file, and her hand stilled.

  Written in heavy black letters, the header read SHELBY.

  A more high-minded individual might have refused to even glance at it. Anything having to do with that relationship was clearly none of her business. But she couldn’t help it. Shelby was supposed to be firmly in the past. Why would Mark still be carrying around a file on her?

  She glanced quickly through the contents, telling herself that a hasty peek was somehow better than a thorough search. Right away she began to feel better and could see there was no real reason to worry. There were only a few documents, and most of them seemed to be the last legal maneuverings of joint ventures they apparently no longer had an interest in maintaining.

  And then she came upon the prenuptial agreement he’d wanted them both to sign.

  One corner was crumbled, and Jenna was pretty sure it was the very same copy Shelby had tossed in Mark’s face in New York. He’d probably stuffed it in the file, thinking that eventually he’d return all these documents to his attorney.

  Jenna told herself there was no reason to linger over it. Of all the documents in the file, this would definitely have to be considered off-limits. Still…

  In a way, wasn’t she justified in satisfying her curiosity about it? Mark had proposed marriage to her, too, and she had been giving it serious consideration all evening. Didn’t she have a right to know what kind of stipulations he might ask for?

  Jenna couldn’t imagine the prenup creating the same reaction in her that it had in Shelby Elaine. Mark’s money was the last thing she cared about.

  Satisfied that she had reason enough, Jenna scanned the few pages quickly. She cut through the legal mumbo jumbo, and when she read the real core of the agreement, her breath stalled in her lungs. For a moment she actually felt light-headed again.