Chapter Eight
Lola
I refold the spreadsheet I’ve spent the last several hours poring over back to its original position. Red ink dots the pages, marking the areas of inconsistency. It looks like an evil editor has gotten a novice’s manuscript. “I think I’ve got it all highlighted. We should have a strong case to present to our client.”
“Good. We’re about to wrap this project up.” Jason clicks on the wireless mouse at his terminal, moving quickly from one screen to the next without looking in my direction.
Overhead, multiple televisions and computer monitors display a variety of news programs from around the globe. The drone of everything from the local news to the world financial markets drones on until I no longer notice it.
Jason and I are the last remaining soldiers working in the computer lab as everyone else left for the evening. Most people would choose a more active social life over clicking through computer screens and rifling through reams of printouts on a Friday evening. I know Jason’s excuse. He’s a computer geek. But what’s mine?
Right. The only individual interested in me since I’ve arrived in town is Cade, and that was an attempt to get me to leave.
Not that I’m interested in him. I’m not. I’d rather wash my hair or clean out a cat litter box. And if I keep repeating that to myself, I might believe it.
I tilt the chair back, causing it to squeak. “I’m impressed the CEO caught on to the missing funds. Each one of the transactions was under a hundred bucks. The perp was smart to keep the withdrawals small. I bet the CEO will be glad to find out who was skimming from him.” The individual switched money from the overseas account to the general account and wrote checks for bogus expenditures to pad their personal pocketbook.
“Probably not. It was his accountant.” He wrinkles his nose. “Who just so happens to be his sister-in-law.”
“Eww, not good.” I wince. “I didn’t realize it was a family situation. I wonder what she needed the money for. Surely, she could have asked him for a salary increase. Or a loan.” My family isn’t talking to me right now, but they’d be there if I called and asked for help. That’s what family is for.
Jason stacks a pile of reports onto the edge of his desk. “Who knows. People do stupid things when they believe they won’t get caught.”
“Even though she was clever to keep the transactions small, she didn’t make any effort to cover her tracks, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow her movements. Do you think he’ll press charges or just try and recoup his losses?”
He shrugs. “Hard to say. It was under 10k altogether, and it is family.”
“Maybe she did it for a selfless reason. To pay for medical bills or something.”
After he leans back in his chair, he chuckles. “Always the optimist. She probably needed a new pair of shoes.” He shakes his head, snaps forward, and picks up an assortment of empty containers of junk food and soda bottles, tossing them into the trash.
I frown. I’m not as much of an optimist as everyone accuses me of being. That makes me sound like a goody-two-shoes. But is there something wrong with hoping for the best?
The magnetic ID swipe outside the door clicks. Once the door swings open, I stare at Cade. My mouth dries as his eyes sweep over the room and land on me before darting away again.
I groan. Dealing with an overbearing, know-it-all is the last thing I want to do on a Friday night. Or any other night.
Girl, keep telling yourself that.
Jason stands as his computer shuts down. “What can we do for you?”
Thank God Jason spoke first. Otherwise, we’d have been down here all night. The tension in the room ramps up with each passing second as both Cade and I avoid each other’s gaze.
“I needed to hand this off to Lola.” Cade waves a medium-sized folder.
I squint, trying to make out what the label says, but I can’t read it from this distance. What could he possibly have that’s for me?
“Cool, then I’m out of here.” Jason makes his way toward the door while tucking his cell phone into his jeans pocket. “I’ve got a hot date.”
I jerk my attention from the folder to Jason. He has a date–that’s depressing.
So much for him living in his mom’s basement, playing video games all weekend with his make-believe friends. I tilt my head. Not that Jason’s an unattractive man. His dark hair is disheveled from running his hands through it. That, combined with piercing blue eyes and a five o’clock shadow, I can see how he could turn heads. But damn it, now I’m the only pitiful one.
As the door snaps open, panic swells in my chest. Shit. I’m going to be alone with Cade. I glance at the spreadsheet. “What do I do with the paperwork?”
“Lock it in your file cabinet. We can finish the last few pages of the report Monday morning. Truman was calling our client this evening to give him a heads up on the findings.” Jason tips his head toward the two of us. “Have a great weekend.” He winks and grins in my direction. “I plan to.”
The second the door shuts, I stiffen. The tension is thick enough to cut with the proverbial knife. After a few moments of him wandering around the room, it becomes evident he doesn’t want to have this conversation any more than I do. Shit. Get this over with. “What’s in the folder?”
“I didn’t look.” He shrugs. “Truman handed it to me and said he couldn’t bring it to you because he was waiting on a call. He asked me to bring it down before I left.” He shoves the packet toward me.
When the tips of my fingers brush against him, a tingle starts at the contact point and shoots up my arm. My gaze jerks to his. Did he feel that? Lord, how could he miss it? It feels like electricity is rolling along my flesh, causing goosebumps to scatter in all directions.
My eyes narrow. His face is made of stone. Nothing. No movement. No breathing. Nothing. Of course, he feels nothing. I snatch my hand back. “Thanks.”
Everything snaps in my brain at once. Oh, my God, is this it? My fingers shake as I clutch the folder, and excitement zips through me. Please, let this be my opportunity to work in the field.
While I’ve enjoyed the computer work, the potential of doing something important, that truly makes a difference, is an adrenaline rush. When I told Truman of the numerous things I’ve overheard throughout the years, his interest was piqued. Who knew listening to tedious conversations could become a skill?
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “Look, before I go, I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. It was uncalled for. It’s none of my business how Truman designs his teams, and if he thinks you’ll be an asset, that’s his call. I’ve always trusted his judgment and see no reason to stop now. Despite outward appearances, I wasn’t raised to be a dick.”
I study him as he pleads his case. Interesting. His apology appears sincere. “I accept your apology.”
He sticks out his hand. “How about we agree to a new start?”
As his hand clasps mine, I feel the rough calluses rubbing against my smooth palm. The sensation travels straight to my clit. How would it feel if his fingers and tongue followed the same path? Lord, I need a fan. The handshake is over almost before it begins.
Cade crosses his arms and rests against the counter. “How did you learn Kyushu Jutsu?”
I lick my lips. The muscles in his biceps ripple as he adjusts his weight. The man is deadly. Am I staring? I blink to regain my focus. What did he ask? Right, Kyushu Jutsu. “My father’s gardener.”
The petite woman tended to my deceased mother’s rose garden as if it were her life’s work. She was small and full of ancient knowledge, and she taught me about healing herbs and a few not so helpful potions.
“What?” Cade’s eyebrows are arched nearly to his hairline.
I chuckle. “That’s what my father would say if he knew.”
“How does that even happen?”
“Well.” I pause and lean against the surface across from him. “It’s kind of a long story.”
***
Cade
“Go ahead. I don’t have plans for the evening, and you’ve aroused my interest.” Lord, did I just say aroused? She doesn’t arouse me. She can’t. I like submissive women–women who don’t argue and fight back.
Don’t I? Sure, none of them held my interest for long, but that’s not the point.
So why is it that I can’t get her out of my mind? I can’t keep a potted plant alive, and she learned martial arts from a gardener. The difference between our pasts couldn’t be any more evident. What would she do if I asked her out? That’s easy. She’d look at you like you were an idiot.
Shit. I don’t have any business thinking about her. We’re co-workers and nothing else. No matter how soft her skin feels or how intoxicating the faint scent of coconut that lingers whenever she passes by is to my dick. Fuck. She makes me wish for sunsets on a deserted beach.
My cell phone vibrates, and I pull it out. Lucas Foster. I frown and tap ‘Ignore.’
“Do you need to get that?”
I shake my head and slide the phone back into my pocket. “No, go ahead.” I’ve been avoiding this call for two years. I’m no more prepared to take it today than I was back then.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to bore you.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Go ahead.” I’m not going to lie–I want to know how a woman who wears designer clothing to a street fight knows martial arts.
“Right after I was born, my mother died.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.” I hate it when people dig into my past. She’s going to be pissed I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
She shakes her head, causing a wave of hair to break free from behind her ear. After she pushes it back, she says, “It’s okay. I never knew her other than through photographs or stories told by family. I do look like her, though.”
“She must have been a beautiful woman.” My heart skips a beat. The words are out, and into the universe, before I can stop them, and there’s no way to get them back.
“Thank you.” She continues as if my words didn’t register. Or she doesn’t care if I find her attractive or not. “My father was already into the political scene, and I had two older brothers. I was the only female in a household of overbearing men. I’m not saying I wasn’t loved because I was. It’s more like I was loved too much. Everyone treated me like I was a prized possession that belonged inside a China cabinet.”
She’s small and perfect, so I understand their reasoning. But I don’t think she’d appreciate me saying it. If she were mine and some prick pushed her against the wall and molested her, I’d beat the fuck out of him. “That must have been hard to deal with.”
“Yes, it was. I went to a private school and wasn’t allowed to have friends stay over. No jumping in muddy puddles or throwing snowballs. I could play dress up and be on my father’s arm at fundraisers and charity events, but that was about it.”
“What about your brothers?” I never knew my father, and my mother ended up working herself into an early grave, leaving me to fend for myself. But I’d been able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Would the opposite have been any less destructive?
“They were big, strong boys, so they could do all those things.”
“Did you resent it?”
She pauses for several seconds. “Not really. It was the only thing I knew, and they were worried something would happen to me. I guess if I had to call it something, I would say it was unfair. Ms. Lue felt the same. She was afraid being sheltered would end up making me a target for kidnappers or, at the very least, bullies. She tended to have the flare for the dramatic and convinced my father I needed to learn self-defense, which didn’t exactly reduce his paranoia that something would happen to me.”
Fuck. I happened to her. And yet, she’s forgiven me. Or has said she forgives me. Why? It’s not like I deserve her forgiveness.
“How did you get from simple self-defense to martial arts without him or your brothers noticing? I’m assuming they’re fairly intelligent men.” I shift my weight.
“We had a high-end, well-equipped workout room down in the basement. He watched the first couple of lessons to make sure I wasn’t in any danger of getting hurt. Then, he was distracted by my brothers and their full slate of sporting activities, so he had no clue. Don’t get me wrong, he went to my school activities as well, but they were less physical, choir, violin, and debate, those types of things. Ms. Lue remained working for us until her mother became ill when I was in my late teens. By then, I was proficient.”
“I’d say. You could have done some serious damage to me if you’d wanted.” The closeness of her knee to my groin could have knocked me to my knees.
“I’m sure you could have handled your own. The only reason I got the upper hand was because you were distracted.” She bites the corner of her bottom lip, drawing my attention to the plump flesh of her tantalizing mouth. My pulse thumps at the base of my throat. The memory of holding her in my arms, the feel of her soft curves pressed against my body, the taste of her sweet lips makes my head dizzy. I fight the temptation to repeat the experience.
The few feet between us could be breached in seconds. I take a step, and the air in the room seems to evaporate. I take another step, leaving mere inches between us.
As she draws in a large gasp of air, her bottom lip trembles. What are you doing? You just apologized for forcing yourself on her, and now, you’re about to do it again.
I clear my throat and step back, effectively breaking the mesmerizing pull she has over me. I’ve always had iron-like self-control. Why does it disappear whenever she’s in the room? “We’d better get out of here. It’s probably dark by now.”
Her eyes shift to the clock. “I can’t believe it’s that late. I need to lock up my paperwork and get out of here.” The heaviness in the room decreases by a few notches as she gathers her possessions.
“I’ll walk you to the vehicle.” She frowns, pinning me in place with a glare. “I know you can take care of yourself and everyone else you meet, but let me be a gentleman. I need to prove to you I’m a better man than I acted when we met.” Stella would take a broom at me if she found out how disrespectful I’d been acting. The lectures about how she’d worked trying to make me into a man she could be proud of, only to find out I’m a bully who used my strength to intimidate women, would destroy me. I can’t disappoint her like that–again.
“Fine. You can walk me to my vehicle.”