Page 31 of The Money Man
“If they don’t, it undermines my worldview.” She gave him a crooked smile to make light of her statement but it was nearly true.
He ignored his burger. “I remember feeling that way once. But when you deal with corporate accounting, things get ... creative.” He looked away so she could see his profile with the slight bump in the bridge of his nose.
“Big numbers, big discrepancies?”
“Big numbers, lots of wiggle room.” He turned back to her. “That’s why I started the Small Business Initiative. To get back to problems where the answer is clear.”
“You longed for a simpler life and instead you got fraud. That’ll teach you.” Alice cocked one eyebrow at him, trying to lighten the mood.
“But itissimpler. We know what’s wrong. We just have to figure out how to stop it without damage to you or your clients.”
“I’m not convinced Myron Barsky will care about me,” Alice said, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll turn down an all-expenses-paid trip to Dallas.”
He picked up his knife to slice his enormous burger in half. “If you’re excited about a one-day business jaunt to Texas, I’d like to see how you’d feel about a trip to Paris.”
“I would be swooning on the floor.” She forked up a bite of Monte Cristo French toast.
He gave her a heavy-lidded look. “Hopefully, I would catch you before you hit the ground. Otherwise I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman.”
The image of Derek cradling her body against the expanse of his chest—preferably with his shirt unbuttoned so she could feel his skin against her cheek—sent a spiral of yearning through her. “I’ll remember to do all my fainting in your vicinity.”
“I can swoon quite effectively without hurting myself. Falling with authenticity—usually in a death scene—is one of the things they teach you in acting school.” He picked up one-half of his burger.
“I’d like to see that,” Alice said. “I guess you can sing too. Didn’t you say that your father is a musician?”
“Dad didn’t pass on the singing DNA. I was mediocre at best and I’m long out of training.”
“Isn’t your voice your voice?”
“Not when you don’t have a natural talent. You learn all kinds of tricks to make yourself sound passable.”
She’d still love to hear him sing in that rich baritone of his. “So you don’t even belt out a song in the shower?”
That was a mistake because now she was imagining what his body would look like as water sluiced over the hard muscles she’d felt when she had put her hand on his forearm.
“I don’t remember the lyrics so humming is the best I can do,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up at some private thought before he took a bite of his burger.
The look of sensual appreciation that made his eyelids half close sent her imagination careening into speculation about his expression during sex.
“You said we needed to get our cover story straight,” she said in a rush while shivers of arousal ran through her.
He swallowed, the muscles of his throat rippling in the open neck of his blue button-down shirt. “It’s late and this burger is worthy of my full attention. Let’s declare the meeting adjourned for tonight.”
“Nick’s cooking often has that effect on people.” They’d barely touched on business, so why had Derek come all the way out to Cofferwood?
“Is it Nick’s cooking or the company?” Derek’s slow smile sent equal parts of tension and excitement fizzing through her veins.
Now was the time to lean in, if she had the guts. “I’m used to Nick’s cooking so it must be you.”
She held her breath. Every angle of his face sharpened and he put the burger down on his plate.
“Alice, I want to say something here, out in the open, so you can tell me to go to hell without hesitation.”
Confusion froze her brain so that all she could do was stare at him.
“For the last twenty-four hours all I’ve thought about is how you would taste if I kissed you,” he said, his look scorching with intent.
Excitement flared through her. “So I’m not crazy.”
