by Renée Dahlia
‘You were only six when she left. If it makes you feel better, I don’t remember her very well either.’ Nok’s secrets died with their parents. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. Let’s go and see what Zoe has created.’
‘If it’s anything like her breakfast, it’ll be amazing.’ Sam started to walk back up the house. He glanced over his shoulder at Kiet. ‘I understand why you find it hard to trust women—they keep disappearing from your life—but this one is a keeper.’
Kiet scoffed. ‘You are getting way ahead of yourself.’
‘Nah. I’ve seen the way you look at her.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Like you want to taste her.’ Sam grinned, and for the first time since Elizabeth had dumped him, his smile reached his eyes. A proper smile.
Kiet patted his stomach. ‘Whatever.’ He didn’t trust his voice to say anything else as the image of Zoe leaning towards him yesterday in that dress filled his mind. Yeah, he wanted to taste her, to lick that delicious cleavage of hers. He probably should get Sam to take them both to town—get her away before he did something he regretted—on the premise that he needed to collect his van. Christophe would need a delivery of fresh oysters tomorrow and so would the fish shop in town, and several other local customers.
Chapter 7
‘Okay. Talk me through the petty cash system.’ Zoe really ought to get Kiet to drive her home, so she could grab some clothes, especially now they’d had lunch and she was wearing a clean set of his clothes. She’d showered again before cooking lunch for the brothers, washing away all the hard work of the morning. But the pull of figuring out who was defrauding his business was too strong for her to go home. She had a few days off before she was due back at the resort, and while it was probably arrogant to think she could solve this in that short time, she assumed Kiet and Sam’s oyster business wasn’t going to be as complex as the cases she’d worked in Sydney.
‘It’s simple.’ Kiet passed her a plain notebook. ‘We write it all down in here, and about once a week, we add up the cash in the drawer to make sure it matches.’
Zoe wanted to rub her eyes. What a terribly inefficient way to run a business. ‘And who has access to this money?’ She flicked open the notebook and scanned the random page. ‘I mean, these are some pretty big numbers. It says here you took three thousand dollars and banked it. You had that much cash just sitting here, loose in a drawer?’
‘It’s been a long time since I had to bank any cash. We used to take cash into town all the time, but with internet banking and what not, our clients mostly pay us directly into the bank. So it took me ages to realise that the cash here wasn’t right.’
‘Okay.’ Zoe flicked through to the end of the notebook. The numbers did get smaller as the book got closer to today. If there was a large-scale fraud happening, it wasn’t in the petty cash—not unless someone hadn’t been writing the figures down. ‘Who has access to this money?’
‘Everyone on site.’
‘Which is?’ Zoe figured it was more than just Kiet and Sam.
‘Mrs Doyle comes in once a week to do the basic bookkeeping. That’s her writing at the bottom of each page.’ Kiet pointed out the total in and out at the end of each page. Some pages had notes in a lovely cursive script. ‘Me. Sam. And Elizabeth used to do client communications and stuff. She liked to be called our Marketing Manager, but really she was just a PA.’
‘And she had access to this cash.’
‘Yeah. She often did our grocery shopping for us, because she lived in town, so she’d grab stuff if we needed it to save us a trip in. And then we’d pay her back from here.’
‘And you think she’s the one who has been skimming the business.’
Kiet nodded. ‘It makes sense. Mrs Doyle has worked for our family forever, and why would Sam steal from his own business?’
‘He might have a drug habit?’ Zoe knew people hid all kinds of things from their families.
‘Sam? Are you kidding me? His only habit is eating corn chips and playing the latest fantasy game online.’
‘Well, that sounds like a decent sort of hobby.’
***
‘Are you teasing me?’ Kiet frowned at her. Zoe nodded, and a lock of her brown hair fell brushing her cheek. He jammed his hands into his jeans pocket—better that than tuck her hair behind her ear.
‘I wouldn’t be too fast to denigrate someone’s hobby. Mine is going to be quite useful to you. Do you have a hobby?’
Kiet had to think for a minute. ‘Fishing. And before you tell me that it’s an extension of my job as an oyster farmer …’ He held up one palm. Zoe grinned.
‘Yeah, my hobby and job are closely knitted too. I love finding the mistakes in someone’s books, the holes in the numbers—’
‘Is that different to the job you have now?’ Kiet was genuinely curious. He didn’t remember seeing her around town, although the town was big enough that he didn’t know everyone.
‘Yes. I had a wonderful job in the city for five years, doing all those things, and it was really challenging and interesting.’
‘But?’
‘The firm was very competitive, and while that was good for a while, it took a physical toll on me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Kiet stared at her nose with ridiculous focus, so he didn’t glance down her body. Count her freckles. Something. Anything but glance down at her full breasts, hidden under his own bloody shirt.
‘I worked too hard to meet deadlines, too much coffee, not enough time to look after myself. I became way too thin, and eventually got really ill. Stress sickness, the doctor called it. Jade made me quit and come back here. I’ve been working for Xander remotely for a couple of years now—it’s been great to have a project of his so close because I’ve been able to get a hands-on view of what his business does. The work isn’t as intense as the other job, which is good because I’m healthy again.’
‘And now I have a familiar challenge for you. Makes sense.’ Kiet realised he’d already started trusting her long before now—probably when she offered to take his drunken arse home yesterday—and her story correlated with her actions. She opened her mouth as if to add something, then closed it again.
‘What? Tell me.’ Kiet’s stomach clenched. What was she hiding?’
She shook her head. ‘No. It’s nothing much. I don’t want to burden you with it.’
‘That is the wrong thing to say.’ He stepped backwards.
‘Oh? … Oh. No, it’s nothing. Just about something my mother used to say to me. She didn’t want me to quit—even after I was sick—because she thought the job was keeping me thin, something she desired for me, and also because …’
‘Why?’ Kiet wanted to tell Zoe she looked amazing as she was, she didn’t need to worry about her mother’s opinion on her body, but he doubted Zoe needed his opinion either. Besides, he really wanted to know the other reason. The real reason she quit. He kept cycling back to this matter of trust. Could he trust his responses to her?
‘It’s nothing.’ If she thought that would dismiss him, she was wrong. He waited, just watching her eyes dart back and forth. ‘Fine. It’s embarrassing. Mother thought I’d meet a nice man to marry, and then I could stop working and be the perfect …’
‘Stepford wife?’ Kiet recalled his initial impression of her. She frowned at him. ‘You know, like the movie with the perfect wives in their dresses and hair and shit.’
‘I understand the reference. I just don’t think it should apply to me. What are you saying?’
‘I’m not saying anything about you. I don’t know you well enough to make any judgement.’
She raised one eyebrow in a neat arch. ‘But you’ve been judging me since we met.’
‘If that is true, why are you here?’
She sighed. ‘As if I haven’t been asking myself the very same question? All I did was be polite and drive you home after the party. I intended to drop you off, then go home to my own bed alone. But your tree fel
l on my car, and here we are, trading insults.’
‘I haven’t insulted you. Only your mother’s opinion of your future … One that you haven’t chosen for yourself. I don’t see why you are so upset.’ Kiet threw his hands up.
‘Don’t dismiss me like that. I’m allowed to be upset when you judge women for being the best version of the only life they are able to choose.’
‘Hang on. What? Are you saying you want to be a Stepford wife?’
Zoe blinked and a slash of pink across her cheeks started to glow. ‘No. Yes. Damn it. I can choose whatever I want to be without everyone else making up their minds for me.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’ Kiet hated this kind of argument, going round and round in circles until he wasn’t sure why they were even arguing. ‘Do what makes you happy. I’m going to help Sam in the packing shed.’ He started to leave. Her hand shot out and grabbed his biceps, halting him in his tracks as a sudden rush of sensation flew up his veins. What the hell? Had she shocked him with a …
‘Wait.’ She dropped her hand and shook it out. He knew exactly how she felt. She’d scalded his arm and he wanted to rub it.
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘I hate to be a nuisance, but I need a ride back to town. If I’m going to help you out with your books, I’ll need my laptop, and some fresh clothes, and …’
‘Are you inviting yourself to stay?’
She raised both eyebrows this time. ‘Would you rather I took your books away and worked on them where you couldn’t see? No, you wouldn’t.’ He forced his head to stop shaking as she noticed. ‘So, if I’m going to figure this out, I’ll need some supplies. Therefore, I need a ride to my house—and back again.’
‘Fine. I need to grab the delivery van anyway. Can you drive a ute? You’ll need to drive yourself back here once I grab the van.’
‘I don’t see why not. Betty was a manual car. I should be able to drive most vehicles—the principle is the same, no matter what size.’
Kiet grinned. He enjoyed her pragmatic attitude. If she shed the pretty dresses, she’d make a good farmer, able to adjust to any situation. That thought wiped the grin off his face—just because she was hot, and capable, didn’t mean he wanted to take this any further. Besides, she liked the damned dresses. People abandoned him—Nok, his parents—and she would too, one day. It was much safer to help her sort this financial problem out quickly. He’d be a damned fool if he stopped her from offering free help.
‘One more thing …’ He had to ask. ‘I suppose you want payment for all this help?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Look, I probably should charge for this, but how about I treat this as a holiday break from work? You provide the accommodation and food, and I’ll solve this little puzzle for a bit of fun.’
Kiet couldn’t imagine anything less fun than spending his holidays staring at the bank records, but if it was what she wanted, he wasn’t going to complain.
‘And all the oysters you can eat.’ He stuck out his hand and she shook it firmly. A fresh tingle rushed up his arm. Damn, if she caused these … sparks every time they touched, it was going to prove difficult to keep from kissing her. His gaze dropped to her lips, just as she licked them.
‘Yes, please. It’s a deal. Oysters, food, and a bed, in return for accounting.’
Kiet could only nod. He wanted her in his bed, not the spare room. She started to pull her hand away from their connection, but he squeezed it to keep the connection with her. She relaxed under his hold, and he ground his back teeth together. She smelled like his soap with her own sweet scent underneath. It should haven’t been pleasant. If he could bottle that scent, he’d call it honest work. Without her enthusiastic help with the tree this morning, he would never have agreed to her proposal. As it was, only the driving need to figure out how much Elizabeth had stolen from them kept him saying yes to Zoe’s idea of staying here. She was temptation wrapped in a wholesome package, and he knew he’d spend the next few days practising his self-control. He’d better start, so he relaxed his hold on her hand. But she didn’t slip her own hand away, just left it there cradled in his palm.
‘Your hands are very rough.’ She reached out with her other hand and turned his hand so his palm was upright. The sight of her hand resting in his palm, while she held the bottom of his hand with her other hand, was erotic in an unexpected fashion. She was literally holding his hand without moving, and her simple touch was enough to get his blood racing south.
‘Oysters are rough. My hands have adjusted, that’s all.’ His palms and fingers were heavily callused from handling oyster shells. She slid her hand off his palm, but still held his hand up with her other hand. Please don’t touch. Please don’t touch. The internal monologue ran on repeat. He wasn’t sure he could cope with her … yeah, doing that. She pressed her finger lightly on his wrist, then traced the outline of his thumb, his forefinger, his middle finger … His eyes closed and he gave up the fight, letting himself enjoy the sensation. Her touch was almost too light for him to feel through the thick calluses on his hands. It felt like she was tracing his shape with a feather. Pleasant. Anticipation built in the throb of his pulse. What would she do next?
‘Does it hurt?’
He almost coughed. ‘The calluses? No. They are built up over time to stop the rubbing of oyster shells from hurting. It’s protective.’
‘I’ve never felt anything like it before. My hands are so office soft.’
He growled deep in his throat. He knew just how soft they were, and now he knew what her gentle touch felt like. If she touched him anywhere else, she would undo him.
‘Oh, sorry. Did that hurt?’ She snatched both her hands away and twisted them in front of her. He forced himself to glance back up to her face again, rather than stare at her hands, placed right in front of his own belt holding up his jeans. Having her wearing his clothes should be awkward, not hot enough that his blood threatened to boil.
‘No. It didn’t hurt.’
‘But you groaned?’ Didn’t she know what effect she had? No one could be that innocent.
He blew out a long breath, easing the burn in his chest. ‘Because it felt nice.’
‘It did?’ Her eyes widened, and the green flecks at the edges seemed bigger than usual. ‘Should I do it again?’
‘No.’ He jammed his hands into his jean pockets. If she touched him again, he might not be able to stop himself from kissing her. Zoe’s frown deepened. ‘I liked it. Too much.’
Her frown disappeared. ‘Oh. Too much? What does that mean?’ How the hell did she manage to sound so naïve? She was going to kill him—he couldn’t take advantage of her like that, no matter how much he wanted to.
‘Don’t act all innocent on purpose. It doesn’t suit you. Come on, let’s get your stuff. You have a bargain to uphold.’ He knew he’d hurt her with his sarcastic barrier from the way her face fell and that frown between her eyebrows returned with a vengeance.
‘Fine.’ She stormed out of the farm’s office, his jeans taut across her backside. Of course she’d fill out his jeans better than he could. He picked up the discarded petty account book and stared at the rows of numbers. His messy handwriting, Sam’s writing, everyone’s writing … He slowly added up a page of numbers until his desire faded.
Chapter 8
Two days later, Zoe had settled into a routine that meant she barely saw Kiet, except at meals where they were distant and polite with each other. He confused her with his reaction to her—sometimes kind, and other times rude as he pushed her away again. Had he almost kissed her? Or was she just inventing stories because she wanted to be kissed by him? The way he’d held himself so rigid when she’d traced the rough calluses on his hands made her wonder. Did he want more, or did he hate her touch? It could go either way, so it was easier to copy him and pretend he didn’t exist, just as he seemed to be able to not see her. She’d typed up the petty cash book into a spreadsheet, then found a couple of older books and added them. Sam had dow
nloaded all their bank account transactions and she’d uploaded those into her spreadsheets too. Then she’d checked them all against the box of receipts, sorting everything into categories. Now that she’d done all the boring stuff, it was time to do the fun part. Run some analysis and figure out trends in the data.
‘I’ve made some dinner. Do you want some?’ Kiet’s voice seemed to come from nowhere and she jumped in fright. She blinked. When had it gotten so dark?
‘What time is it?’ How long had she been at the computer?
‘Nearly nine at night. You didn’t come to dinner.’
She rubbed her eyes. No wonder they were sore, she hadn’t looked up from her computer since noon. And her throat was all dry. She rolled her head on her shoulders. Ouch.
‘Sorry. I was a little absorbed in this.’ She waved at the screen, then turned in her chair. Her back creaked like a rusty old door as she twisted to face him. She hadn’t been this involved in a problem since the Brown and Haldonstan tax fraud case. Her mind stayed on the pivot tables she’d just run on the data. There was something in those numbers that mattered. Something more important than eating dinner or talking to other people. The answer was right there staring at her, if she could only grasp it. She nodded as Kiet spoke to her, not knowing what he’d said, and she followed him out of the room into the kitchen. She went through the motions of sitting down to eat at the table with her whole brain focused on … Oh.
‘Kiet?’
‘What?’ He grumped at her question, and why wouldn’t he? It was the first time she’d talked directly to him in two days.
‘You seem to have done a lot of expansion with the business in the last two years, but I don’t understand why that—’
Kiet spoke over her. ‘No we haven’t.’
‘But …’ She laid down her cutlery and peered at him. ‘There has been a big jump in expenditure on equipment in the past two years. I figured that it meant you were expanding your operations.’
