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A High Stakes Seduction
Jennifer Lewis
In USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Lewis's latest, love is a gamble between polar opposites…Meet Constance Allen: no-nonsense, by the books…innocent. The aboveboard accountant is on a mission to make sure the New Dawn casino's finances are legit, and maybe even get a promotion…until the millionaire owner seduces the socks off her. Now the conflict of interest threatens her very livelihood, yet she just can't help it!Blindsided, John Fairweather never expects a little flirting with the auditor to get so serious so fast. But when her investigation turns up a smoking gun, will all bets be off for their fledgling affair?
What was happening?
Her brain wouldn’t form thoughts at all, but her mouth had no trouble responding to his.
Heat rushed through Constance to her fingers, which were suddenly on the soft cotton of his shirt. She felt his hands on her back, his touch light and tender. His tongue met hers, sending a jolt of electricity to her toes.
The stubble on his chin scratched her skin slightly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their embrace. She dug her fingers into the roping muscle of his back, plucking at his shirt as their lips moved together.
A humming sound startled them both and they broke the kiss. “My phone,” he murmured in a low voice. He didn’t reach for it. Still frowning slightly, he raised a thumb and smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek.
She blinked, wondering what had just happened. And why? “I really must …” She wasn’t even sure what she really must do. Go to bed? Take a cold shower? Throw herself out the window?
Did he really just kiss her?
A High Stakes Seduction
Jennifer Lewis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. She would love to hear from readers at jen@jenlewis.com (mailto:jen@jenlewis.com). Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com (http://www.jenlewis.com).
For Dwnell
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#ulink_ddb85de4-3ee2-5f3b-8f8a-1a09ef330db4)
Many thanks to my editor Charles Griemsman.
Contents
Cover (#u5ea4cf5a-1849-5802-978c-4812dbe690c4)
Excerpt (#uc0739d61-513b-52d2-bf9b-2feda7bc9940)
Title Page (#ubcdeb8a6-a7a2-56dd-80f8-a0b976b2f72c)
About the Author (#u282e8323-d436-5f40-b11d-e07ced390c96)
Dedication (#u7add2e91-f9fc-5d23-b30d-b5f92d7f00e1)
Acknowledgments (#uaf1b3220-c5b6-5cae-b14c-9c4e4115b11b)
One (#u87ac0b16-f69b-5de3-8a54-46f3018ef7b8)
Two (#u8befd686-210a-51fd-8537-30f95b1282d6)
Three (#u5ed7c8d1-0b0c-5a0e-9c4d-34c956696594)
Four (#ua081f8f0-641c-57fe-8c7a-0757b597647e)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_a0c79cb2-3a25-567e-b7a8-28072aebfb21)
“Just get rid of her as quickly as possible. She’s dangerous.”
John Fairweather scowled at his uncle. “You’re crazy. Stop thinking everyone’s out to get you.”
John didn’t want to admit it, but he too was rattled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs sending an accountant to snoop through New Dawn’s books. He glanced around the grand lobby of the hotel and casino. Smiling staff, gleaming marble floors, paying customers relaxing on big leather couches. There was nothing he didn’t love about this place. He knew everything was aboveboard, but still...
“John, you know as well as anyone that the U.S. government is no friend of the Indian.”
“I’m friendly with them. They gave us tribal recognition. We ran with it and built all this, didn’t we? You need to relax, Don. They’re just here to do a routine audit.”
“You think you’re such a big man with your Harvard degree and your Fortune 500 résumé. To them you’re just another Indian trying to stick his hand in Uncle Sam’s pocket.”
Irritation stirred in John’s chest. “My hand isn’t in anyone’s pocket. You’re as bad as the damn media. We built this business with a lot of hard work and we have just as much right to profit from it as I did from my software business. Where is she, anyway? I have a meeting with the contractor who’s working on my house.”
The front door opened and a young girl walked in. John glanced at his watch.
“I bet that’s her.” His uncle peered at the girl, who was carrying a briefcase.
“Are you kidding me? She doesn’t look old enough to vote.” Her eyes were hidden behind glasses. She stood in the foyer, looking disoriented.
“Flirt with her.” His uncle leaned in and whispered. “Give her some of the old Fairweather charm.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He watched as the woman approached the reception desk. The receptionist listened to her, then pointed at him. “Hey, maybe that is her.”
“I’m serious. Look at her. She’s probably never even kissed a man before,” Don hissed. “Flirt with her and get her all flustered. That will scare her off.”
“I wish I could scare you off. Get lost. She’s coming over here.”
Plastering a smile on his face, John walked toward her and extended his hand. “John Fairweather. You must be Constance Allen.”
He shook her hand, which was small and soft. Weak handshake. She seemed nervous. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fairweather.”
“You can call me John.”
She wore a loose-fitting blue summer suit with an ivory blouse. Her hair was pinned up in a bun of some kind. Up close she still looked young and was kind of pretty. “I’m sorry I’m late. I took the wrong exit off the turnpike.”
“No worries. Have you been to Massachusetts before?”
“This is my first time.”
“Welcome to our state, and to the tribal lands of the Nissequot.” Some people thought it was cheesy when he said that, but it always gave him a good feeling. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No! No, thank you.” She glanced at the bar, looking horrified, as if he’d just thrust a glass of neat whiskey at her.
“I mean a cup of tea, or a coffee.” He smiled. It would to be quite a challenge to put her at ease. “Some of our customers like to drink during the day because they’re here for fun and relaxation. Those of us who work here are much more dull and predictable.” He noticed with chagrin that his uncle Don was still standing behind him. “Oh, and this is my uncle, Don Fairweather.”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose before shoving out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Don’t be so sure, John wanted to tease. But this was a business meeting. “Let me take you up to the offices, Ms. Allen. Don, could you do me a favor and see if the ballroom is set up for the Shriners’ conference tonight?”
His uncle glared at him, but moved off in the right direction. John heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t always easy working with family, but in the end it was worth the hassle. “Let me take your briefcase. It looks heavy.”
“Oh, no. I’m fine.” She jerked away as he reached toward her. She was jumpy.
“Don’t worry. We don’t bite. Well, not much, anyway.” Maybe he should flirt with her. She needed someone to loosen her straitjacket.
Now that he’d got a better look at her, he could see she wasn’t quite as young as he’d first assumed. She was petite but had a determined expression that showed she took her job—and herself—very seriously. That gave him a perverse urge to ruffle her feathers.
He glanced at her as they headed for the elevators. “Is it okay if I call you Constance?”
She looked doubtful. “Okay.”
“I do hope you’ll enjoy your time at New Dawn, even though you’re here to work. There’s a live show in the Quinnikomuk room at seven and you’re most welcome to come see it.”
“I’m sure I won’t have time.” Mouth pursed, she stood and stared at the elevator doors as they waited.
“And your meals are on the house, of course. Our chef used to work at the Rainbow Room, so our food here is as good as any fancy restaurant in Manhattan.” He loved being able to brag about that. “And you might want to reconsider about the show. Tonight’s performer is Mariah Carey. Tickets have been sold out for months.”
The elevator opened and she rushed in. “You’re very kind, Mr. Fairweather—”
“Please call me John.”
“But I’m here to do my job and it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to enjoy...perks.” She pushed her glasses up her nose again. The way she pursed her lips made him think how funny it would be to kiss them. They were nice lips. Plump and curvy.
“Perks? I’m not trying to bribe you, Constance. I’m just proud of what we’ve built here at New Dawn, and I like to share it with as many people as possible. Is that so wrong?”
“I really don’t have an opinion.”
* * *
When they arrived at the floor with the offices, Constance hurried out of the elevator. Something about John Fairweather made her feel very uncomfortable. He was a big man, broad shouldered and imposing, and even the large elevator felt oddly small when she was trapped in there with him.
She glanced around the hallway, not sure which way to go. Being late had her flustered. She’d planned to be here half an hour early but she’d taken the wrong exit ramp and gotten lost and—
“This way, Constance.” He smiled and held out his hand but withdrew it after she ignored him. She wished he’d turn off the phony charm. His sculpted features and flashing dark eyes had no effect on her.
“How do you like our state so far?”
Again with the charm. He thought he was pretty hot stuff. “I really haven’t seen anything but the highway medians, so I’m not too sure.”
He laughed. “We’ll have to fix that.” He opened the door to a large open-plan office space. Four of the five cubicles she could see were empty, and doors stood open to the offices around the walls. “This is the nerve center of the operation.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Down on the floor. We all spend time serving the customers. That’s the heart of our business. Katy here answers the phones and does all the filing.” He introduced her to a pretty brunette in a pink blouse. “You’ve met Don, who’s in charge of promotion and publicity. Stew handles building operations, so he’s probably out there fixing something. Rita is in charge of IT and she’s in Boston looking at some new servers. I handle all the accounting myself.” He smiled at her. “So I can show you the books.”
Great. He shot her a warm glance that did something really irritating to her stomach. He was obviously used to having women eat out of his hand. Lucky thing she was immune to that kind of nonsense. “Why don’t you hire someone to do the accounts? Aren’t you busy being the CEO?”
“I’m CFO and CEO. I take pride in managing all the financial aspects of the business myself. Or maybe I just don’t trust anyone else.” He flashed even white teeth. “The buck stops here.” He tapped the front of his smart suit with a broad finger.
Interesting. She felt as if he’d thrown down a gauntlet and challenged her to find something wrong with the books. She liked that he took personal responsibility.
“It’s a family-run business. Many of the people in the office are tribal members. We also outsource to other local businesses—printing, web design, custodial services, that kind of thing. We like to support the whole community.”
“Where is the community? I booked a room at the Cozy Suites, which seemed to be the nearest motel, but I didn’t see it as I drove up here.”
He smiled. “The nearest town is Barnley, but don’t worry. We’ll set you up in a comfortable room here. We’re booked to capacity, but I’m sure the front desk can figure something out.”
“I’d really rather stay elsewhere. As I said, it’s important to be objective.”
“I can’t see how where you stay would affect your objectivity.” Those dark eyes peered at her. “You don’t seem like the type to be swayed by flattery and pampering. I’m sure you’re far too principled for that.”
“Yes, indeed,” she said much too fast. “I’d never let anything affect my judgment.”
“And one of the nice things about numbers is that they never lie.” He held her gaze. She didn’t look away, even though her heart was thudding and her breath getting shallow. Who did he think he was, to stare at her like that?
She finally looked away first, feeling as if she’d lost a skirmish. Never mind, she’d win the war. The numbers themselves might not lie, but the people reporting them certainly could. She’d seen some pretty tricky manipulations since she’d gone into forensic accounting. The BIA had hired her accounting firm, Creighton Waterman, to investigate the New Dawn’s books. She was here to make sure the casino was reporting profits and income accurately and that no one had skimmed anything off the top.
She braced herself to meet his gaze again. “I specialize in looking beneath the shiny rows of numbers that companies put in their annual reports. You’d be surprised what turns up when you start digging.”
Or would he? She was looking forward to getting her fingers on last year’s cash-flow data and comparing it with the printed reports. She wouldn’t have time to look at every single number, of course, but she’d soon get a sense of whether there was fudging going on.
“The Nissequot tribe welcomes your scrutiny.” His grin did something annoying to her insides again. “I’m confident you’ll be satisfied with the results.”
