He should have figured she’d be difficult, Jamie mused as she sat across from him, a fading bruise darkening her right jaw. Her lower lip was swollen, a tiny cut in the middle. Had she hit her head in the accident? he wondered. Even with that cut, her mouth was enough to make him look a second time. Hell, he was past second and third looks and well into the double digits.
He wanted to taste that mouth. Wanted that mouth to taste him. His lids lowered to half-mast and he could see it, her on her knees, his hands fisted in all that hair as she slid her lips down his length, as he fucked his cock in and out of that mouth, those pretty hazel eyes glancing up at him and gleaming with pure lust.
Hell…he was in trouble.
Forcing the thought out of his mind, Jamie suggested, “Maybe you should finish taking off the rest of the week you have coming. You’d be more likely to think clearly then.”
With a saccharine smile, Andi responded, “I don’t get much clearer than this. Sir.”
“Then perhaps you should be made aware that if you choose not to cooperate, we’ll have you put you on suspension.” A muscle in his jaw twitched but his voice remained level, almost cool.
Lifting one brow, Andi asked, “On what grounds? Materialism?” She chuckled, winced, and pressed a hand to her side. “You have any proof? Because if you don’t, and you try to put me on suspension, I’ll be making a trip to the lawyers and the papers. And something tells me you are trying to keep this thing hush-hush.”
Score one for you, Jamie acknowledged silently. “What makes you think that?”
“Because you can’t have any proof on me, otherwise I’d be sitting in lock-up. With no proof, you have no way of knowing if I am even who you are looking for. Which means that you are aware the guilty person could still be roaming about. If this isn’t kept quiet, whoever that is will know and have time to cover his tracks.”
“Sure you aren’t a cop?”
Flicking Mick a disinterested glance, she said, “Spare me.” Then she turned her hazel gaze back to Jamie. Those eyes saw too much, he thought. Saw too much, and hid too much. “Let me ask you this; what exactly led you to suspect me, besides me liking to spend money? Somebody pointed you in my direction, didn’t they?”
He opened his mouth, only to close it, and stare at her, hard. A satisfied smile curved her mouth and one red brow raised a fraction. “Maybe that’s who you should be looking at. A nurse in the basement who watches kids and doles out Tylenol and flu shots isn’t very likely to catch somebody’s eye right off the bat. Unless somebody points her way.”
Gingerly, she rose from her chair. “My kids will be here soon. I’d suggest you clear out.” Even as she spoke, the door opened and one of her assistants came in, followed by a pair of toddler-bearing parents.
♥
“It’s not her,” Jamie said quietly as the elevator doors closed behind them.
Mick cocked his head and studied the younger man. The girl was cute enough, maybe a little too round for his tastes, but something had Jamie by the throat back there.
They’d been working together nearly six years and Mick didn’t think he’d once seen Jamie’s hormones overrule his head. “Why?”
Hell yes, his hormones were raging, even though Jamie hadn’t quite figured out why. So what if she smelled better than any other woman he had ever met? But the hormones, the scent of her, had nothing to do with his gut feeling that Andi Morrow was not a thief. She was smart, she was cocky, and entirely too open.
“It’s too easy,” he murmured. “Too pat. Our thief is somebody slick, somebody slick enough to avoid getting noticed for nearly two years now. If it was her, she’d have covered her tail better. She wouldn’t have blatantly been spending so much money all at once. It wouldn’t be so obvious.”
“What about the money?”
Sighing, he said, “I don’t know. Maybe she strips on the weekends. Maybe she moonlights as a bartender. But she has another income; we just need to find out from where before we can mark her off the list. Hell, for all we know, she has a sugar daddy somewhere and she just works here because she likes kids,” Jamie said with a grimace, sidestepping the cleaning cart. The cleaning girl was running a damp mop over a coffee stain, barring their way.
“So who else is on the short list? She had a point,” Mick said. “We haven’t been nosing around long enough to have a whole lot of suspects.”
“He’s already on it,” Jamie said grimly. “Letcher’s the one who mentioned her, practically the first minute he had me alone. And I don’t think Jeb is going to like it, but we need to call in Marks, have him check around. We need to find out where the extra money is coming from with Miz Morrow and we’ll need to do a deeper search on our friend, Art.”
“Your godfather isn’t gonna like that at all. He wants her off the list…now,” Mick murmured, shaking his head.
“Which means calling in Marks.” Jamie slid a look over his shoulder, back to the door. It was closed, and behind it, he could hear kids laughing and squealing. No, this was one of the last places he would have looked, if somebody hadn’t pointed him here first.
♥
Jamie studied the array of papers spread out before him. There it was in black and white. “She’s a writer,” he murmured in disbelief. Plowing his fingers through his already tousled black hair, he studied the copied contracts under his hand. “A friggin’ romance writer.” Off to one side was a copy of the book that Marks had picked up and tossed into the file.
Appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, an open bottle of beer in hand, Mick said dryly, “So I assume she’s off the list?”
Jamie remained silent, gathering up the papers, stacking them neatly and sliding them in the file before looking at Mick. “No.”
Pausing in mid-sip, Mick’s brow rose. “No?”
“You know as well as I do that she’s not off. She can’t be taken off. We take her off, it’s going to clue others in.”
“Others, meaning, ‘Art,’ right?”
Lifting up another folder, Jamie leaned back against the couch, propped one foot on the coffee table. “Our PI had to do some digging on this one. Turns out Art has three different bank accounts, none of them stateside. Two with the Swiss, and one down in Jamaica. All under the name Max Fletcher.”
“We’re sure it’s his money?” Mick asked.
Rolling his eyes, Mick cut Jamie off in the middle of a complex reply about computers, wiring, echoes, and other words that made no sense to him. “Just say he used computers, okay? I don’t understand anything more than how to turn one on. Just save your breath, and say he used the computers.” Gesturing with his half-empty bottle to the file Jamie held, he asked, “So, whaddya think? Is it him?”
“Gut feeling?” Jamie asked, lifting his shoulders in a restless shrug. “Yeah, it’s him.”
“Can we use that as proof?” Mick asked, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the younger man.
Scowling, he said, “No, teacher. One must not assume.” Leaning back, he tossed the absurdly thin file down. “There’s no proof. This just shows that the money is there. No trace of how it landed there. It’s circumstantial; it’s enough to probably fire the guy. But not enough to fry him.”
“So we have to keep Andriette Morrow on the list until we have solid proof against Letcher,” Mick said, crossing the black carpet to drop into a burgundy leather armchair. Mick had a glint in his eye that told Jamie he approved of the logistics, approved of Jamie’s thought process.
Problem was, Jamie didn’t approve.
He wanted Andi free and clear, officially and unofficially.
Hell, he just plain wanted Andi.
“Yeah,” Jamie said, sighing. If it left some sort of knot in his gut, he’d just have to deal with it.
“Why do I get the feeling that bothers you more than it normally would?”
Glancing up, Jamie shrugged. “She damn near died in an accident a week ago. I doubt this is going to be the best
thing to follow something like that up.”
Mick snickered as he turned away. “Yeah, right.”
“He knows me too well,” Jamie muttered, shaking his head.
♥
Andi flicked Jamie a cool glance as he came through the door, focusing her attention back on the child in front of her. Probably here to fire me, she thought dismally as Beth pointed out the red fish in the picture book. He’d probably decided to call her bluff. She’d rather quit than have her face plastered all over the newspapers.
Hell, she would do nearly anything to keep from getting her face plastered across the newspapers, anything to keep her life private. After spending the majority of her life in a place where strangers knew everything from her shoe size to when she first started getting her period, she needed privacy.
With a smile, Andi looked back at the little black girl who was holding the book in front of them, pointing at the smiling red fish that cavorted across the page.
“Why isn’t the fish blue?” Beth asked.
“Hmm. Now that is a very good question. Maybe the person who wrote the book didn’t like blue fish,” Andi said, a grin curving her mouth.
Why in hell am I having such a hard time looking away from her? Jamie wondered with a sigh, watching as she smiled down at the little girl sitting snuggled in her lap.
“Well, I like blue fish. And I bet you do, too.”
“You know, I like both red fish and blue fish. And pink and purple and green.”
“What about polka-dotted?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a polka-dotted fish,” Andi said, stroking Beth’s soft curls. Pressing a kiss to her temple, she squeezed the little girl. “I’m gonna miss you when you go to school next year.”
Little arms wrapped around Andi’s neck. “I’ll miss you, too. You’re the best, Miss Andi.” Her eyes peered over Andi’s shoulder and met Jamie’s. Her voice dropped to a very loud whisper, and she asked, “Who’s the babe?”
A startled laugh rippled from Andi’s mouth as she pulled back. Studying the sober ebony face in front of her, she asked, “Where in the world did you learn that?”
“Mama would call him a ‘hottie,’” Beth said, grinning.
“Maybe your mama would, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to.” Andi shook her head and tapped a finger against Beth’s wildly grinning lips. Turning, she faced the babe and had to admit, silently, she agreed with the little girl. Those pale green eyes made her want to just sit back and stare.
He was hot.
And most definitely a babe.
That mouth had her entertaining ideas she normally didn’t entertain. Unless she was sitting in front of her computer, putting her nighttime fantasies down on paper. Or relieving frustrations by abusing the massaging showerhead again.
“Well, Mr. McAdams. Nice to see you again,” she drawled, lowering Beth to the floor. “Why don’t you see if we have a book with a blue fish, Beth?”
As the little girl headed for the stuffed book shelves, Jamie suggested, “Dr. Suess.”
Brow arched, Andi asked, “Excuse me?”
“Dr. Suess. One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish,” he said.
“A favorite of yours?”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth and Jamie admitted, “I’m surrounded by nieces and nephews.”
“I see,” Andi said, rising from the beanbag chair carefully. Pressing one hand to her ribs, she waited until the throbbing eased before heading for her office. “I assume you’re not here to talk about the merits of Dr. Suess.”
His eyes drifted down the length of her compact little body before idling back up. It suddenly dawned on him that she slumped her shoulders when he was around, and she wore her clothes far too big. Her arms and wrists were lean, almost delicate, her neck long and slim, and her collarbone soft and smooth.
What did she look like under that uniform?
Snap out of it, McAdams, he told himself, blowing out an aggravated breath.
“I’m just checking to see how you’re feeling. Healing up okay from the accident?” he asked, following her into her small, tidy office and lowering himself to the chair in front of her desk.
One shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. “I suppose.”
“Your ribs still seem to be bothering you,” he noted.
“They got busted up the night of the accident. In another week or two, they’ll be fine,” she said, grimacing as she pictured the multi-colored bruise that still lingered on her rib cage. She eased herself into her own chair, careful to keep the discomfort she felt from showing on her face.
Her knee was killing her. She’d tried to do some katas last night once she’d gotten home, and failed miserably. Her knee couldn’t take the strain of even the simplest warm-up yet.
“You know, you are entitled to some more time off,” he offered. “After that accident, you’re lucky to even be here.”
Her face blank and she asked, “How do you know it was even serious enough to warrant the week I took?”
“I read the report that you turned in to Sam. Pretty cut and dried.”
With a cool glance, she replied, “The report didn’t even touch it, Mr. McAdams.”
“Is that supposed to convince me that you are fit to work?”
“I’m fine,” she said flatly, leaning back in her chair. “Why are you really here?”
One black brow rose. Heavily-lashed lids fell over those pale green eyes and Andi recalled how she had felt growing up, as though her every breath was being measured and weighed against her. That feeling was back tenfold.
“I’m not leaving my job unless I am forced to,” she said quietly, rising from her chair and leaning forward. Hands planted on her desk, she stared into those blank eyes and said, “I have done nothing wrong and I will not act like I have, nor will I be treated like I have.”
“I wasn’t aware I had asked you to leave your job, or that you were being treated any differently than normal.”
“The simple fact that I have been accused is bad enough.”
She looked away, but not before he saw the bleak set of her gaze. A knot settled in his chest and Jamie closed his eyes. “If you’ve done nothing wrong, then you don’t have anything to worry about. This matter will be resolved and you can put it behind you.”
“Have you ever been accused of embezzling thousands and thousands of dollars?” she asked grimly. Moving away from her desk, she studied the pictures hanging on her wall. “Ever been wrongly accused of anything for that matter?”
He opened his mouth to offer another empty platitude but then he only sighed, the words refusing to come. Honestly, he said, “No.”
Shooting him a narrow look over her shoulder, Andi said quietly, “I have. And even vindication doesn’t take it away.”
“What, exactly, are you referring to?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. There had been no report of anything illegal. Hell, she only had one speeding ticket and she’d gone to traffic school to avoid the points on her license. Her record was completely clean.
A smile lit her eyes for just a moment. “Wondering why you didn’t hear anything about that?” she asked, turning back around and studying him.
When he didn’t reply, Andi sighed and shook her head. Reaching up, she rubbed the back of her neck, trying desperately to relax before the ache that settled there turned into a full blown tension headache. “It was before I turned eighteen. All my records, of course, are sealed. Some other foster kid tried to convince the foster family I was staying with that I had stolen some jewelry from them. It was…resolved, to use your word, but I still ended up leaving that home, and the friends I had made there.”
She didn’t mention how it had been the first family that had ever shown any real kindness or interest in her, didn’t mention that it had ended up with her returning to a group home. “And look there, another strike against me,” Andi said, sitting back down and folding her hands on the desk. Taking a dee
p breath, she schooled her features, blanked her eyes. “Are you here to ask me to go on voluntary suspension?”
“No.” Those eyes had known too much pain, Jamie thought. “You’re welcome to go about your job as you choose.”
“For now,” she said, shaking her head. “Why are you here this time, Mr. McAdams?”
“I just wanted to see how you were. It was a serious accident, wasn’t it?” he asked, wondering what she had meant when she had said, “The report didn’t even touch it.”
Long lashes drooped over her eyes, hooding them. “Yes. Yes, it was. That’s very kind of you. I’m fine.”
Here’s your hat; what’s your hurry? Jamie thought cynically. Rising from his chair, he opened his mouth, wanting to say something. On a sigh, he just shook his head, and headed for the door.
Why her? he wondered. Out of all the women in the world, why was she the one who stuck in his mind?
♥
He could smell him before he even entered the room. Art Letcher wore overpowering cologne that warned people of his presence some thirty feet away, it seemed. Mick lowered the file he’d been studying, covering it with another, and looked up just as Art passed through the doorway.
“So,” Art asked, his voice a low conspiratorial whisper. “How are things progressing?”
Mick lifted his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.
“Things aren’t looking well with Ms. Morrow, are they?” Letcher asked, his face composed in somber, unhappy lines.
The tone of voice was right, the eyes were right, even the way he held his head was right, Mick mused. Art appeared to be the picture-perfect boss concerned that a well-liked employee had betrayed him.
So why didn’t it feel right to Mick?
The hell if I know, he thought tiredly, dragging his hands down his face. “She’s being investigated, along with some others.”
“Oh? You have…other suspects?”
Laughing, Mick pushed back from the desk, kicking back in the chair and resting his booted feet on the edge. “Art, you never go into something like this and investigate only one person. Yes, we are checking into other things, looking at other people’s backgrounds.”
Coming In Last Page 4