“And subtly drawing Jonah away?”
“More of the same,” she answered.
“That would make you quite a bargain,” he replied, only half kidding.
“So I’ve been told.”
This time, the pull he felt between them was a little stronger. Jackson decided that he needed to leave before he found another excuse to stay—and did something he wasn’t supposed to.
“Well, like I said, I’d better be going.” But even as he repeated the trite phrase, reluctance to vacate the premises kept him in place. “Thanks again for getting Jonah to leave.”
“Don’t mention it.” Taking the initiative, Kate turned toward the door, silently ushering him out. To seal the deal, she indicated the envelope and promised, “I’ll get back to you on this.” Because she knew that he probably wanted a tentative time frame, she added, “Most likely on Tuesday.”
Jackson nodded. “Sounds good.”
He lingered a split second longer by the door. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to kiss a woman as much as he wanted to kiss her. Desperate for a way to label and contain this feeling, he told himself that it had to do with forbidden fruit. He knew he shouldn’t kiss her so he wanted to. No big mystery there. He just had to continue resisting until the feeling passed.
“I’ll see you soon,” he told her.
Go already, she silently pleaded. She didn’t know how much longer she could go on, ignoring the crackle of electricity between them. “Yes, you will.”
She could feel her resolve cracking into tiny little pieces.
Damn it, Jackson, why aren’t you kissing me? I was practically naked in front of you. Didn’t that create some sort of reaction from you?
Maybe, instead of a warm bath, she should have just taken a cold shower. If this was Jonah instead of Jackson standing on her threshold, all she would have had to do was allow her glance to linger suggestively. Kate was fairly confident that by now, several sheets would have been incinerated from the heat of the lovemaking that would have ensued.
But she wasn’t attracted to Jonah, she was attracted to Jackson. And she was going to pay. Big time. Unless she could do it on her terms.
“Good night,” he murmured.
Jackson turned and began to walk away. She started to close the door. Suddenly, he doubled back and thrust his hand in the way, preventing her from completely shutting the door.
“Forget something?” Kate asked, keeping her voice mild even as she felt her heart leap up into her throat.
He needed to have his head examined. He’d almost been in the clear. “Kate…”
Her breath backed up in her lungs. “Yes?” she whispered between dry lips.
He’d started this, he needed to finish it—before she thought she was working for a village idiot. “How much would it complicate things if I kissed you right now?”
Outwardly, she strove for a semblance of calm. She could control this, she silently insisted. This was purely a physical thing, nothing more. “That all depends.”
“On?” he prodded.
Just the slightest hint of a smile curved her lips. “On the way you kiss.”
Very slowly and carefully, Jackson silently released the breath he’d been holding. “You want to find out?”
She lifted her chin. “I’ve never turned my back on a challenge.”
“Good thing to know,” he told her just before he slipped his arms around her and drew Kate closer to him. His mouth came down on hers.
At bottom, Kate would have said that she wasn’t expecting the earth to move. Shimmy maybe, but not actually move.
She should have known better.
The kiss did not engulf her. Not at first. Warm, gentle, coaxing, it still managed to open a door to another world. Opened it until she suddenly found herself free-falling through space. There was no longer a threshold, no longer a house. No longer anything but flash and fire and heat—incredible, soul-singeing, all-consuming heat.
Kate gripped his shoulders in order to hang on, afraid of tumbling to the bottom of a five-mile abyss and smashing into a million pieces.
More afraid that the kiss would stop before she had her fill.
Pressing her body against his, she was both sorry that she had gotten dressed and greatly relieved that she had at the same time. Because if she were still in that robe, there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind how this kiss would have ended. In her bed, burning up those aforementioned sheets.
The moment his mouth touched Kate’s, Jackson realized that he’d known all along what this would be like. Known that this petite, intelligent, animated woman with the killer curves and midnight-black hair had the power to ignite a fire within him at first contact.
He just had to keep it in perspective, that’s all. While he could satisfy his curiosity about kissing her, he knew that he definitely could not allow this to progress to its natural conclusion. That would be violating a host of rules, not a single one of which clearly came to mind at the present moment.
Jackson framed her face with his hands, deepening the kiss just one more inch, then terminating the entire experience, albeit reluctantly.
But it was a matter of survival. His.
His mouth tingled as he drew his head back. “I’ll be waiting for your call,” he told Kate, stepping away from her.
Turning, he quickly walked away—before baser instincts than he’d just displayed made him sweep her up in his arms and make love with her no matter what the consequences.
“Uh-huh.”
It was the only sound Kate could produce at the moment.
Her strength barely lasted long enough for her to close the door behind his departing back. The second the door met the jamb, she slid down to the floor, her back against the frame, her limbs utterly liquefied. Possibly forever.
Who was that masked man?
Talk about a kick, Kate thought.
Wow. Oh wow.
It probably had something to do with her brain being fried, but she couldn’t remember ever reacting to a man like this. Not even Matthew. He had turned her on, yes, but this was way beyond just physical attraction. Had her new client not left when he had, she would have been in dire danger of just ripping off his clothes and then launching an assault on him until he made love with her.
And wouldn’t that look lovely on your review? Get a grip, Kate. You know where this is going to wind up. And you’re not going there again, understand?
Using the doorknob for support, Kate slowly pulled herself up to her feet. She needed a stiff drink, she decided. Maybe several, so that she wasn’t tempted to jump into her car and drive to Jackson’s house to end what he had started.
When first Monday and then Tuesday came and went, enough time had passed for her to return to her senses. She was grateful that she hadn’t gone with her urges. Something she’d regret.
But that didn’t mean that the memory of the toe-curling kiss had faded or even degraded from an A-plus to a B-minus. The spectacular incident was still very much an A-plus, but she would have to be content with keeping it as a fiery memory. Under no circumstance could she allow herself to get carried away, not again. There were definitely times when the “road not taken” was best not taken. Especially when she knew where that road led.
Putting in a full day and then some on Monday and then Tuesday, she was in the office a full hour before she was supposed to be on Wednesday. She was more than two-thirds finished with the rough draft of what Jackson had asked her to do. After Matthew, work became her solution for everything.
This time, it was her way of handling all that charged, unfettered energy racing around inside of her.
In his office, continuing to familiarize himself with the particular, inner workings of this particular district of Republic National and its individual branches, Jackson frowned. He stared at the column of numbers on the Excel spreadsheet currently on his monitor. He’d just been conducting a random check on some of the accounts and he’d accidentally come across an inconsiste
ncy.
It was a shortfall, small in the scheme of things but definitely there.
He’d been following the thread now for the last three hours, pulling up screen after screen, the tension inside him growing. Each time he thought he’d just made a mistake, there was that little blip, that tiny grain of sand inside his shoe. In this case, it wasn’t sand, it was missing funds. The bank’s funds.
Someone was skimming.
Embezzling.
It was an ugly word, an uglier reality. And it had begun at precisely the same time as his transfer to this district had occurred.
Coincidence or deliberate?
At the moment, he couldn’t trace the disappearing funds back to their source, but because of the glaring time line, he knew that it could be interpreted to make him look guilty as hell.
Who would set him up? Or was he just being paranoid about this?
Jackson scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to think, to sort out his scrambled thoughts. He definitely didn’t need this. Dealing with his brother, who seemed to suspect something, and this attraction to Kate were bad enough. A possible embezzlement scandal was like the proverbial last straw.
Except that he couldn’t allow it to break him.
Given that, what could he do? Was it one of the other bank officers, taking advantage of the confusion that his transfer had temporarily generated? After all, he was replacing a district manager, Alan Jefferies, who he’d heard, had to be “convinced” to take early retirement.
Convinced? Or coerced? And if the latter, why?
Or was the culprit one of the score of tellers this branch had, deftly removing funds in order to pay off a gambling debt? God knew he was more than passingly familiar with that kind of a situation, thanks to Jonah’s latest addiction.
For all he knew, this might even be connected to Jonah in some fashion. He just didn’t have enough information.
Biting off a curse, Jackson felt one hell of a headache coming on.
He didn’t hear the phone on his desk ring at first. He was that consumed by what he was doing. But after the second time, the ringing registered. Even so, he fleetingly entertained the idea of just ignoring whoever it was on the other end of the line.
But he didn’t have that luxury. Not as a district manager. Stifling several choice, terse words, Jackson yanked the receiver up from its cradle. As he put it against his ear, he barely refrained from snapping out his surname. “Wainwright.”
“I have a rough draft of the papers drawn up,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
Recognition was swiftly followed by a wave of warmth.
Kate.
“So soon?” he asked, surprised. This was Wednesday morning. Despite her promise Friday night, he hadn’t really expected to hear from her until at least the end of the week. He knew he wasn’t her only client and he didn’t think she’d drop everything to do his bidding. Moreover, there were still three weeks left until Jonah’s birthday. They had time.
He heard her laugh.
“Hey,” Kate said, “when you’re good, you’re good. Seriously, it turned out to be easier than I anticipated, thanks to Jonah’s documented penchant for excess. He virtually made your case for you.”
For a brief moment, Jackson thought he could detect a smile in her voice. He visualized one on her lips.
Though he tried not to let it, the image stirred him.
Jackson took a breath. He made a decision. He needed someone to talk to. Someone to brainstorm this problem with. The logical choice would have been one of the bank’s lawyers, but he didn’t know how far up the chain this embezzlement went, if it was embezzlement. Despite all the hours he’d logged in at Republic National up north, down here he was essentially “the new guy.” New guys had to tread lightly.
And as the new guy, he had only the ultimate clout that the others were willing to cede to him. In this precarious position, he really didn’t want to make waves, or inadvertently have suspicion point to him. Especially not until he figured out who was stealing and just how much had been stolen.
“I need to see you,” he told her without any kind of preamble.
“Are you asking me as the man who is retaining me, or as…?” She didn’t finish, letting him fill in the line as her voice trailed off.
“Is there a third choice?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I always like to leave myself open to things,” she said with an amused laugh.
“I need a friend,” he finally told her. She made no response to that. Not a good sign. Still, Jackson heard himself asking, “How soon do you think you can get here?”
If he was asking for the impossible, he might as well know now.
“I’m on my way right now,” she told him. He thought he heard the sound of a drawer being closed on the other end. She was reaching for her purse, he guessed.
The next moment, he chastised himself that he was overreacting. This just wasn’t like him.
“No,” he ordered suddenly.
“I’m not on my way right now?” Kate questioned, puzzled.
“No,” he repeated. “Don’t come. I’m probably just making too much of this.”
She had no idea what “this” was but she did note the consternation in his voice. That meant something was bothering him. Whether he actually needed a lawyer or a friend was moot. He needed her in whatever capacity he chose to place her in. That was good enough for her.
“You don’t strike me as an alarmist,” she told him. “So, unless there’s a major accident involving farm animals on the freeway, I should be there in about twenty minutes.”
Jackson tried again. “Look, forget what I said. I don’t feel right about making you drop everything and just come running like this.”
But he was stating his argument to the dial tone. Kate had already left the office.
Chapter Eight
Kate didn’t arrive at his office in the promised twenty minutes. She arrived there in seventeen, slightly breathless because she had walked quickly from the underground parking facility where she’d left her car to the bank of elevators and then even more quickly down his hallway.
The moment he saw her, Jackson rose from his desk and crossed to her with his hand outstretched.
He was grateful she was there, but at the same time, he also felt guilty for making her come. Guilty as well as foolish. There was still the chance that he was making a mountain out of the proverbial mole hill.
But even if he wasn’t, this was something he should be able to handle on his own without outside emotional support.
“I take it there was no accident involving farm animals on the freeway,” he said by way of a greeting, recalling the last thing she’d said to him before terminating their phone call.
“As luck would have it, no,” she answered amiably.
Kate put down the briefcase she’d brought with her. The newly drawn up trust-fund papers were inside. For the time being, that was placed on the back burner. She parked the Italian leather briefcase next to his desk. Though he was trying to mask it, she could see that Jackson was agitated.
“Now, other than the usual, run-of-the-mill reason,” Kate began warmly, “why do you feel that you need a friend?”
Several responses, all entrenched in small talk, rose to his lips, but they faded away. He owed her the truth. “I need to talk something out.”
Kate gracefully dropped into the chair in front of his desk, making herself as comfortable as she could under the circumstances. She gave him her full attention. “So talk.”
Jackson sat down in his chair, the rigid tension of his body in direct conflict with the small smile on his lips. The smile vanished the moment he spoke. “I think someone at the bank is embezzling.”
Kate’s eyes widened ever so slightly. The news surprised her. “Isn’t that a rather difficult thing to do in this day and age?”
There were security programs safeguarding the bank’s depositors and investors. But this wasn’t happening online.
“Sometimes the simplest approaches are the best. People expect this sort of thing to be done online, by clever hackers.” He waved a hand at the screen on his desk. “There’s no sign of anything like that going on.”
“Then how do you know that funds are being embezzled?”
“Because there’s a shortfall. A little here, a little there,” he told her. “Someone is physically stealing small amounts at a time.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Whoever it is that’s doing it is literally ‘skimming’ off the top.”
This was the digital era. There was no such thing as privacy anymore. “Nothing show up on your surveillance cameras?”
He’d already thought of that. But this whole problem was still very fresh.
“I haven’t started checking them yet,” he admitted. “The moment I do, it’ll give whoever’s doing this a heads-up.”
He had a point. If there was something going on. There was still a chance, albeit a small one, that it might all just be a miscalculation on his part.
“You’re sure about this?” Kate pressed. “You are new to this position. It’s possible that you might have made a basic mistake. You know, carried the hundreds column instead of the tens,” she elaborated, only half kidding.
If he had to, he could add large strings of numbers in his head. A unique feat in the day and age of heavy dependence on the computer and the scientific calculator.
“I’ve gone over everything five times,” he told her. “The end-of-week figures don’t tally. Each time, they’re off by very little. But they are off.”
Intrigued, she slid to the edge of her chair. “How much are you talking about?”
He didn’t have to refer to his notes. It was all in his head. “At last total, almost ten thousand dollars. I know what you’re thinking,” he said before she could point the fact out. “That’s not much money in the scheme of things. But it still puts the bank in the red by that sum.”
He’d guessed wrong. That was definitely not what she was about to say. “It might not be much to you or the bank,” Kate pointed out. “But it can be a fortune to someone who doesn’t have it.”
Fixed Up with Mr. Right? Page 8