Page 25 of The Money Man
But that belief blinded her to the darker side of the business world. She had dived into the plans for taking down Barsky with an innocent enthusiasm that worried Derek. She didn’t understand how vicious criminals could be when protecting their profits. Barsky and his ilk would think nothing of destroying her reputation. He’d seen it happen with whistle-blowers in corporations.
He frowned. He hoped the protection of KRG would be enough to shield Alice from Barsky. Which reminded him about their upcoming trip to Texas and six hours in a private jet with the temptation of Alice right beside him in the cabin. He would need to spend that time on the Argon project but he wasn’t sure he could keep his focus with the scent of violets circulating through the jet’s air system.
What would Alice do if he kissed her? For a moment in the conference room, he’d thought she would close that small space between them. He’d seen something in her face, an awareness that matched his own, and he’d hoped she would meet him halfway. But she’d remained still, and somehow he’d found the willpower to sit back in his chair.
Maybe the shadow cast by the fiasco of his engagement had stopped him. Or maybe it was because if he kissed Alice, he wasn’t sure he would have stopped there.
He had a vision of her lying across the conference table, naked, her pale, smooth skin glowing against the zebrawood’s dark grain, while he stood between her thighs and buried himself inside her. He could almost feel the sweet curve of her breasts under his palms and the wet, hot silk of her around his cock.
He groaned as he felt himself begin to harden. But the picture was so delicious that he enjoyed it a little longer before he forced himself to banish it and head for his office.
The plane ride to Texas was going to be an exercise in self-control.
Chapter 8
Alice’s dreams were sweaty, ecstasy-inducing sex scenes with Derek as the leading man. Sometimes he took off his suit and sometimes he took off his Regency tailcoat, but underneath there was always a body that sent Alice’s blood sizzling through her veins. She woke up with her sheets twisted around her legs and two cats blinking at her disapprovingly from the chaise longue.
“Sorry, fellows,” she said, disentangling herself and getting to her feet.
She should take a cold shower to kill the sexual arousal humming through her. Instead, she threw on a sweatshirt over her pajamas and went to the kitchen for a mug of coffee and a dose of reality.
In the cold light of morning, she tried to convince herself that she’d only imagined Derek had wanted to kiss her. Somehow she had misinterpreted his admiration for her meticulous bookkeeping as something warmer and more personal.
She wanted to burrow back into her fantasyland where Derek looked at her with lust in his eyes. Where he ripped his tie out of his shirt collar like he had last night. Where he yanked open his shirt and then came down on top of her, so she could feel his skin against her bare breasts. They were bare in her dreams because he had slowly unbuttoned her blouse and unfastened her bra with those big, capable hands.
But what if she had been right about last night’s meeting? If he’d kissed her, then what? She’d be in over her head with a man like Derek. He wasn’t interested in something long term or emotionally meaningful. She would be merely the indulgence of a moment’s impulse.
And what would be so bad about that? Wasn’t her attraction to him based on his looks? She was just as shallow as she was making him out to be.
She shook her head. She couldn’t fool herself, just as she hadn’t fooled Natalie. He had seduced her in ways that had nothing to do with his looks. Not that he’d meant to be seductive. Most women wouldn’t find it hot that he could remember every shortfall for every one of her clients, yet it had made her insides melt like snow falling into a hot spring.
Time to turn her overheated brain to a useful task.
A half an hour later, her coffee mug was empty and Alice had documented every organization and activity she’d participated in to date. As she proofread the list, embarrassment washed through her. Someone as good at discerning patterns as Derek was would easily see the extreme ups and downs of her stepfather’s financial affairs.
Two summers of sleepaway camp during a boom in the market for commercial office space. The next three summers were spent at the free town rec program because Stu hadn’t foreseen the downturn in that market. Alice had started ballet class and figure skating lessons but had to give them up when Stu’s insurance scheme took a hit. Both of those classes had been her mother’s idea to make her more graceful.
It was also her mother’s idea to talk Stu into providing tennis lessons for his stepdaughter because Gabrielle thought tennis dresses were becoming to every woman. Those lessons gave Alice’s mother an excuse to hang around the country club and the good-looking young pro who taught them. Alice hadn’t hated that as much as she’d expected because the tennis outfits made her feel stylish and she got to go swimming in the club’s pool afterward. A lot of cute boys belonged to that particular club. However, the tennis racket was collecting dust in less than six months. Stu had lost his shirt on a start-up that he’d gotten an inside tip about.
Somehow, it never occurred to Gabrielle to get a job herself. She believed that beautiful people did not need to work because sharing their beauty was all they owed the world.
Maybe it was a good thing that Alice hadn’t inherited her mother’s stunning good looks. She’d be starving.
Of course, Derek’s success as an accounting expert proved that not every beautiful human being expected to skate by on his looks. Maybe Natalie was right that she needed to give him more credit.
Alice shook off her reverie and hit “Send.”
As she stuck a pod of toffee nut in the coffee maker, she caught her reflection in the shiny side of the stainless steel toaster oven. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest, her pale skin demonstrated a lack of sunlight, and her pink hoodie clashed with her red plaid pajama pants.
“You sexy vixen, you!” she said to her reflection.
She stared at herself for a long moment. Before she could come to her senses, she scooped her phone off the counter to call in expert help, even though she feared she would regret it.
Her call was answered on the first ring.
Alice said, “Hello, Mother.”
Gabrielle perched on a peach upholstered chair in the capacious dressing room of Linnea’s Boutique, her long, capri-clad legs crossed, a kitten-heeled silver mule dangling off her toe. She gestured with the glass of white wine she held in her right hand. “My daughter needs something professional but with sex appeal. I was thinking a pencil skirt with a subtle slit, a tailored blouse that’s not quite opaque, and some lacy lingerie to give her a feeling of sexual power.”
