A HIGH STAKES SEDUCTION

by Jennifer Lewis

  “Did you put your glasses somewhere safe?”

  “They’re on the bedside table.” Her soft voice was a balm to his spirit.

  “Good. I didn’t remember you taking them off and I don’t want them to get broken.”

  “That’s sweet of you.”

  Yeah. She was bringing out the sweet in him. He wanted to cherish her and take care of her. He loved to feel her relaxing in his arms. Letting go of the prickly armor she’d used to hold him at bay. It was magic to feel her opening up and exploring her own sensuality—and driving him half-insane in the bargain.

  He kissed her cheek. “You’re something else, Constance Allen.”

  “I’m certainly something else from who I thought I was. There have been a lot of surprises for me here in Massachusetts.”

  “You’re surprised that I’m not the greedy crook the media make me out to be.”

  “I had no preconceptions about you. I strive to be entirely open-minded. It’s essential in my work. If you go in with opinions, it will skew how you perceive the data.”

  “You had no idea you’d succumb to my famous charms.”

  “Now that is true.” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “I’m still not sure what the heck I’m doing in your arms.”

  “Relaxing.”

  “It’s not very relaxing knowing that if my boss—or anyone else—found out I’d be fired and probably lose my accounting credentials.”

  “That’s why you’re not thinking about that part.” He didn’t want her to go back to her job and Ohio. He wanted her to stay here.

  The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. The thunder rolling outside echoed a storm that raged quietly in his heart. He was falling for Constance Allen. “Where are you hoping to go next in your career?”

  “I’d like to achieve partner eventually. At least, I suppose I would. That’s the logical peak of my career. If I manage not to destroy it between now and then.”

  “Have you ever wanted to do anything else?” Possibilities blossomed in his imagination. She could manage the casino’s accounts. After a reasonable cooling-off period from her assignment, of course. Their personal relationship would seem to develop naturally out of her employment at the casino.

  Uh-oh. His feelings for Constance were making him creative.

  “Not really. When I was younger I wanted to be a teacher, but I grew out of that. I’m better with numbers than people.”

  He cocked his head. “I can see you being a teacher. And I think you’re just fine with people.”

  “I don’t know. What if the kids didn’t listen to me?” Every now and then, when she was bored out of her mind with a particular project, she wondered if she’d made the wrong choice.

  “Numbers don’t talk back.”

  “Not often, anyway.” Soft and warm, she lay still against his chest. She no longer seemed ready to run away. “Though I’m always hoping that they’ll yell at me. Especially in a forensic investigation.”

  “Like the one you’re doing now.” He stroked her hair.

  “Exactly. I can’t believe I’m lying in your arms when I’m going to be combing through your books looking for fraud tomorrow.”

  “Surely you’ve seen all you need to see by now. It’s hard to prove there’s absolutely no wrongdoing, but at what point do you call it quits?”

  She stiffened slightly. “When the BIA tells me to.”

  “They still aren’t satisfied?”

  “They just want me to be thorough. I’m sure they’re as anxious as you are to have everything check out so they can forget about the whole thing.”

  “I hope so. They could put us right out of business if they had a mind to. Believe me, I have no interest in doing anything that isn’t entirely aboveboard. I know we’re under scrutiny and that our work can stand up to it.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about. I’m sure they’ll get bored with paying my hourly rate soon.”

  “I hope not.” He held her tight. “Or I might have to convince you to quit and move here.” There, he’d said it. He was clearly losing his sanity, but it was a relief to get it off his chest.

  She stilled. “Very funny.”

  “You think I’m kidding?”

  “I know you’re kidding.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I like you.” He kissed her on the nose. “And you like me, too.”

  She laughed. “I do. But not enough to throw away my life and career to prolong a steamy affair with you.” He heard an odd note in her voice. Sadness. She was already mourning the end of their relationship, even as they lay nestled in each other’s arms.

  “It doesn’t have to end.” His voice emerged a little gruffer than he’d intended.

  “I suppose you could always move to Ohio.” She raised one of her slim brows.

  “That wouldn’t be ideal.”

  “See? It’s impossible. We have our separate lives already planned out and this is just a big mistake that we couldn’t seem to avoid.” She said it so seriously that he laughed.

  “Speak for yourself. I don’t consider this to be a mistake at all. This is the best evening I can remember having. Followed closely by last night.”

  “You must have a short memory, that’s all.” She closed her eyes for a second, as if enjoying a thought, then opened them. “You’ll have forgotten all about me in a month. In six months you won’t even remember my name.”

  “How could I forget a name like Constance? I can’t believe you won’t let me call you Connie.”

  “Knowing you, I can’t believe you haven’t started doing it anyway, regardless of what I think.”

  “I’m more sensitive than you take me for.” He caressed her soft cheek. “In fact, I can be quite soft hearted.”

  It was the honest truth. Which he usually kept to himself. He’d prided himself on keeping his emotions in check for a long time. Something about Constance made him want to let his guard down. He knew she wasn’t interested in his money, or his notoriety, or even his dashing good looks. To appeal to her he’d have to be honest and prove to her that he wasn’t the hard-hearted lothario she believed him to be.

  Was he really trying to convince her to stay here? His logical mind argued against it but something deep in his gut told him that if he let her go he’d regret it, possibly for the rest of his life.

  “I didn’t bring a change of underwear.”

  “We sell some nice panties in the shop.” He grinned. “I can pick some up for you.”

  “No! That’ll just get the staff wondering who they’re for. I’ll go back to my hotel first thing in the morning. Don’t let me sleep in, okay?”

  “I’ll wake you. Though it will cause me pain to tug you from your dreams.” He sounded pretty sappy. For some reason around Constance that felt okay. He could tell she liked it. She had a tiny smile across her mouth and her eyes were closed. She looked utterly relaxed and at peace. Which, considering the circumstances and her personality, was quite something.

  He could easily imagine her lying here in his bed, in his arms, for a long time to come. Getting to that point, however, was going to take some careful management of what could be a very explosive situation. He regretted joking around with Don about flirting with her. Though maybe that would help throw him off the scent. He didn’t want Don to know about any of this until the time was right, which would likely be months from now, as his uncle could have a big mouth.

  Constance Fairweather. The name had an old-fashioned sound that was strangely appealing to him.

  Her breathing slowed as she slipped into sleep. All her resistance had evaporated and she was totally comfortable and relaxed here, with him. Of course her family probably wouldn’t be too thrilled about him taking her several states away, but they could easily move here and he could build them a nice house like the one his grandparents lived in. He’d learned from experience that all obstacles could be overcome with the right planning and some patience. She liked him, he could tell. There was no way she would be here i
f she didn’t. And he liked her.

  So what could go wrong?

  * * *

  Constance was awakened by John’s gentle kiss on her cheek. She blinked and took in the sight of his handsome face, wondering if she was still dreaming.

  “Good morning, gorgeous. I made us breakfast. You’ve got plenty of time to eat before hitting the road to your hotel.”

  “Okay.” She must be dreaming. And why wake up?

  They ate a feast of fresh fruit and scrambled eggs with toast, drank freshly brewed coffee and juice and chatted about their childhoods, which had both been somewhat outside the mainstream in their own way. As the hands on the vintage wall clock headed toward eight o’clock, she found herself reluctant to leave.

  Sitting here chatting with him felt utterly natural. He was just so easy to talk to, and so warm and such a good host. He was spoiling her for all other men. Not that any other men were knocking on her door, but it was going to be hard to find someone whose company she enjoyed as much as John’s.

  Of course, there was plenty wrong with him. He was far too good-looking. She didn’t value looks at all. In fact, they tended to make her assume someone was arrogant and conceited—which in John’s case was entirely correct. Yet since his cocky attitude was justified by his impressive competence, somehow it seemed appropriate.

  She knew he was a notorious playboy. She was just another notch on his hand-hewn bedpost. One in a long line of women, and probably less enticing than most. Once she went back to Ohio, she’d never see him again and very soon there would be another woman in his bed and sitting here at his kitchen table.

  The thoughts made her gut clench with sadness. Which was exactly why she shouldn’t have let herself fall into this...liaison in the first place. He could easily add it to his list of pleasurable experiences and move on. She didn’t have a list of pleasurable experiences and this was going to stand out as one of the most amazing, unexpected and wonderful events of her life.

  Fantastic.

  John’s phone kept making noises, and eventually he picked it up and looked at his messages. “Sounds like the media’s still making noise about Don today.”

  “Do you think he’s done anything wrong?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “No.” He answered quickly. “He’s made some...ill-advised choices in the past, but I know he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize what we’ve built here. He likes people to think he’s a bad boy. He thinks it’s a cool image. Doesn’t bother me. All publicity is good publicity to a certain extent. We’re still new enough that a lot of people haven’t been here yet and you never know what will get them off the couch.”

  “Don sounds like quite a character.”

  “Oh, he is. Sometimes he drives me nuts, but he was the first person to jump on board when I came up with the idea for this place. My grandparents thought it was impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Too big. Too bold. How can you take a tired dairy farm in the middle of nowhere and turn it into a thriving attraction? But we’re not the first, and we won’t be the last. Don had faith in my ability to pull it off and he’s worked hard to make it happen.”

  “I can tell you have a lot of affection for him.”

  “I do. He’s my uncle. And under his flashy exterior he’s a big softy.” John smiled.

  Oh, dear. He was being adorable again. Couldn’t he be a jerk just to make it easier for her to go back home? “I’d better get going.”

  “I’ll lead the way.”

  * * *

  John watched Constance head for the highway to her hotel, then returned to the offices. Don was in the lobby, chatting with one of the desk clerks. He brightened at the sight of John. “Ready for breakfast?”

  “I grabbed something at home.”

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “No reason.” Don would die laughing if he knew. “Just hungry, that’s all.” The truth. His night had been rather more athletic than usual. And he still had a distinct spring in his step. Constance was full of intriguing surprises.

  “Come have coffee with me then. We can glare at any reporters and scare them off.”

  “It’s usually better to just answer their questions with a smile.” Why were reporters still sniffing around? Nothing had happened lately to arouse their suspicion. “Have you seen any today?”

  “I had a phone call this morning asking questions about your lady friend.”

  John stiffened. “Constance?” He realized he might have revealed too much. “Ms. Allen from the BIA?”

  Don nodded. “Somehow word got out that they’re looking into our books. I suppose they’re going on the theory that where there’s smoke there’s probably a fire.”

  “But there isn’t.”

  “You know that, and I know that, and we just have to wait for them to realize that.”

  “Hmm.” The press couldn’t possibly suspect anything between him and Constance, could they? That would be bad, for her and for him and for the casino. Don didn’t seem to suspect anything.

  “She good in bed?”

  John froze. “Who?”

  Don nudged him. “You can’t fool me. I’ve known you since you were two feet high. I can see the way you look at her.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” John maintained a calm demeanor but inside he was starting to sweat. Was his newfound passion for Constance really so obvious? It was essential to keep it a secret until her investigation was over and the results had been announced—for her sake, if not his own.

  “Miss Constance Allen, forensic accountant. I bet she’s a freak under that conservative suit.”

  “You’re disgusting. Who do we have booked to perform in September?”

  “I just booked Jimmy Cliff. I’m working on Celine Dion.”

  “You keep working. I’m heading up to the office.” John headed toward the elevators, blood pumping.

  Right now he was ready for Constance to leave.

  Not because he didn’t want to see her again. Because he wanted to be done with all the secrecy and subterfuge, and that couldn’t end until she was no longer investigating him. He needed her to go back to Ohio, wrap up her assignment, and then they could start over again.

  And that couldn’t happen soon enough.

  * * *

  Back at her hotel, Constance showered and returned some phone calls. It was Friday and the perfect day to pack up and leave, but for some reason she had a feeling she’d no longer be irritated by a request to stay for a few more days. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to John. In fact she was secretly hoping they’d get to spend at least one more night together.

  She knew such thoughts were possibly signs of appalling moral degeneration, but she couldn’t remember ever having this much fun with anyone before, and she wasn’t ready to go back to her humdrum existence yet.

  She called the BIA with considerable trepidation. She was starting to feel like a total fraud as far as they were concerned. If they knew what she was up to with John, they’d fire her firm on the spot and probably sue her for damaging their reputation. She decided to mention the closest thing to a discovery that she’d come across. “Don Fairweather gambles in the casino. He had substantial winnings last year. More than fifty thousand.”

  “Did he pay taxes on his winnings?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t looked at the individual tribal members’ tax returns.”

  “Request them, and take a look.”

  “Which members?” Was she going to have to look into the returns of every low-level staffer? She felt like rubbing her hands together. That would take several days.

  She didn’t want to look into John’s, though. That seemed far too personal.

  “Anyone who’s been gambling,” Nicola replied. “You’ll quickly find out who’s honest. And request returns for the key players, including John Fairweather. Take a look at income, expenses, deductions. Poke around a bit. Look into at least five people in total.”

  “A
ren’t tax returns confidential? What if they won’t allow me access?”

  “Then I’ll secure a subpoena.”

  Constance felt jumpy and anxious as she pulled back into the casino parking lot. Personal income tax records? Many people didn’t even like sharing the information with their spouse. She took the elevator up to the offices, hoping John wasn’t there. It was awkward seeing him in the professional context of the office after what had gone on between them. She always felt her blood heat at the first glimpse of him, then that embarrassing slow smile wanting to creep across her face. And she’d rather request his tax records in a polite text or email than have to look into his eyes while she asked to pry into his personal business.

  Of course he was there. Larger than life and twice as handsome. He was talking to a man she recognized from the cashier’s office as she approached, but he dismissed him with a nod. The twinkle in his eyes warred with his cool and professional demeanor.

  “Hi, Constance.”

  She straightened her shoulders and tried to affect a disinterested expression. “Good morning.” As if she was saying it for the first time.

  “Good morning. I trust you slept well.” His low voice caused awareness to ripple through her. They walked toward his office together.

  “Very well, thank you.” He should know. He’d had to wake her up from her blissful slumber. She kept her voice clipped. “Can I speak to you in private?”

  “Of course.” They took the elevator up to his office. She could feel his curiosity heating the atmosphere as they rode up in silence. She did her best to avoid his glance, afraid of the effect it might have on her.

  She took a deep breath. “My contact at the BIA has requested that I look into the personal tax returns of several key people.”

  His expression darkened. “Who?”

  “You.” She spat it right out. She’d chosen people from different departments and in different stages of life so there would be some variety, and she’d included the three gamblers. “Your uncle Don, Paul McGee, Mona Lester, Susan Cummings, Anna Martin and Darius Carter.”