A HIGH STAKES SEDUCTION Read online

  “That’s insane. You are kind of intimidating, though. It probably takes someone as obnoxious as me to be arrogant enough to try.”

  “Intimidating? I think of myself as being humble and unassuming.”

  His deep belly laugh rocked her. “You can think of yourself that way all you want. The truth is you’re a demanding and rather judgmental woman who probably scares the pants off most men.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “I like it.” His grin warmed her. “If you have high expectations of yourself, you should have them of others, too. I know I do.”

  “Hmm. Now that you put it like that, it doesn’t seem so bad.” Her head rested on his bicep, which was more comfortable than the softest pillow. “I suppose you’re right that a lot of people find me unapproachable. I turn down so many lunch invitations and weekend plans from coworkers that people rarely invite me anywhere anymore.”

  “Why do you turn them down?”

  “I think they’re silly. I go to the office to work, not socialize.”

  “See? You are unapproachable.” His grin revealed those even white teeth. “They’re right to be afraid. What about your church? You said your family is religious. Didn’t you meet anyone there?”

  “Not anyone I was interested in.”

  “So you’re also picky.” He stroked a tendril of hair off her cheek.

  “Shouldn’t I be? What’s the point of pretending you like someone when you don’t?”

  “None whatsoever.” He grinned. “I guess that means you like me.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she teased. Why was he so easy to talk to? “But apparently I am attracted to you.”

  “And I’m attracted to you.” His gentle kiss made her lips tingle. “There’s some serious chemistry between us.”

  There was. It snapped in the air and sensitized her skin where their bodies touched. Pheromones. Mysterious substances that science barely understood, which coaxed humans into situations any sane person would avoid. Like lying cheek to cheek with the man whose business you were investigating.

  “It’s a shame chemistry doesn’t last and that after a while you have to actually be compatible and get along.” She wanted to let him know she didn’t expect this crazy fling to go anywhere. Or maybe she just wanted to reject him before he could reject her.

  “You have to start somewhere.” He kissed her again. She wished he’d stop doing that! It stirred all kinds of sensations deep in her belly. Sensations that made her wish he were inside her again. What kind of woman had he turned her into? “How do you know we’re not perfectly compatible?”

  “Us? That’s funny.” She didn’t want him to think his words had any effect on her, but they did. They were both good with numbers. Both hardworking and determined. She would have once said that he was a notorious playboy and she was the exact opposite, but her current position here in his arms proved that she wasn’t so entirely different from him when the opportunity for romance presented itself.

  Romance? Where had that word come from? There wasn’t anything terribly romantic about their relationship so far. Romance was flirtation and candlelit dinners and hopeful conversations. They’d gone straight from zero to sixty with very little preamble.

  She’d better not let herself start thinking that this was a romance, or she was likely to end up with a broken heart.

  “I don’t think it’s so funny at all. My grandparents are very different and they’ve been together for almost fifty years. He was wild and considered himself a beatnik. He wrote terrible poetry and played the trumpet, and he was getting ready to run away to New York and become a jazz musician when he met my grandmother while delivering milk to a local depot. She’d just moved here with her family from Minnesota and had never dated or kissed a boy in her life. She was training to become a schoolteacher and spent her evenings reading and knitting. He charmed her and she tamed him and they’ve been together ever since.”

  “Oh.” A dangerous charmer and a good girl. Sounded familiar.

  “He was very good-looking. She always said that she never stood a chance against him.”

  “Have they been happy?” She was genuinely curious. People always talked about those opposites-attract relationships, but she didn’t know how often they really worked out.

  “Very. They’ve had their ups and downs, of course. My mom—the one who gave birth to me—was even wilder than my grandfather when he was young, and it ended up killing her. Her death put a strain on their relationship, as a child’s death often does. My grandmother blamed my grandfather for not being stricter with her, and he blamed her for not being more accepting. He felt that if my mom had still lived at home maybe she wouldn’t have gone out drinking and driving on the night she died.”

  “If things were different, maybe you wouldn’t have been born.” She stroked the wrinkle that had formed between his brows. “So much of life depends on chance.”

  She’d never had that thought before. She was a planner, and unapologetic about it. She’d had her whole life mapped out from about age eleven: she’d intended to meet and marry a nice, appropriate spouse during college, then work for several years to build their finances and buy a house before they started a family. She’d planned her career in accounting and made sure to keep abreast of all developments in the field so she’d always have in-demand skills. When her marriage plans had derailed, she’d continued full speed ahead with the other elements of her life blueprint, assuming that everything would slot into place eventually, even if not on her anticipated schedule. She hadn’t spent a single moment thinking about the rather scary mechanics of chance.

  “You’re right. All the hard work in the world won’t get you anywhere without at least a dash of luck, too. I can’t tell you how many times the fate of this casino, even the whole tribe, rested on a decision made by strangers who didn’t have any real stake in the outcome. There were certainly enough people hoping that it wouldn’t happen. And plenty that would like to shut us down right now.”

  “Do you think that’s what they would do if I found that you were actually cooking your books?” Her stomach clenched. She could probably wreak havoc on John’s entire existence.

  “I don’t doubt that they’d try. Believe me, it makes it easy to stay honest.”

  “Why are so many people opposed to the casino?”

  “Well, there are the people who are against it for the same reasons as you.” He touched her lips with a finger. “You know, gambling, drinking, people wasting time having fun. But I suspect even more of them are just jealous. They think we’re getting away with something. Enjoying some benefit that they can’t have because they’re not Indian. No one likes to feel excluded.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but isn’t it supposed to be a reparation of sorts for past injustices?”

  “I think some people see it that way, especially people who are trying to justify their gambling losses as a charitable donation.” He winked. “But really it’s just a recognition of past treaties, allowing us sovereignty over our own lands and people. So many of these agreements were ignored or broken over the centuries, and now things are changing. There’s no element of payback in it. If anything you’d think Americans would be glad that we’re finally getting with the program and embracing the complicated laws and unbridled capitalism that have made this country so powerful and influential.”

  John was so charming it was hard to imagine anyone disagreeing with him once they’d talked to him face-to-face. “So basically, you’re just trying to fit in.”

  “Exactly.” His wicked grin made her smile in response. And kiss him. She couldn’t help herself. Something about him had totally undermined her defenses. He kissed her back. It was warm and invigorating, and soon he had to reach for another condom.

  Bliss filled her as John entered her again, banishing the years of loneliness and wanting. Her body blossomed under his affectionate caresses, and her inhibitions faded away as their intimacy d
eepened. Was it really this easy to find happiness with another person?

  She drifted off to sleep in his calm embrace, feeling utterly at peace with the world. Right now she could easily imagine herself and John as a couple, sharing their days and nights, their thoughts, their dreams.

  Could this taste of paradise turn into her real life?

  Seven

  Constance awoke with a jolt. Sunlight streamed through a crack in the curtains, announcing that the day was well under way.

  John was gone, his side of the bed rumpled and empty.

  She blinked, trying to read her watch. Ten-fifteen? She’d slept half the morning away. Why hadn’t John woken her? She clutched the covers around her, trying to cover her nakedness, even though she seemed to be alone in here. Where were her clothes? She barely remembered taking them off. They were probably on the floor somewhere.

  She spotted them neatly draped over a chair on the far side of the room. John must have picked them up this morning. How embarrassing! She lay here sleeping while he was up and about. Right now he was probably in a meeting or doing his daily perusal of the previous night’s takings, and she was just waking up from a sensual dream.

  She sprang out of bed and hurried across the room, then tried to tug her clothes on so fast it was more difficult than if she’d taken her time. She kept glancing about the room as if someone was watching. She checked her phone and saw several messages, mostly from work. There was no way she could even listen to them, never mind return the calls, while standing in John Fairweather’s bedroom!

  Her suit was wrinkled, probably from lying in a heap all night. She couldn’t manage to get her hair to cooperate either. She certainly hoped she could get out of here without running into anyone. And she had to drive all the way to her hotel and back before she could even get to work.

  She tried to use the elevator that opened right into the suite, but she couldn’t get the door to open. It required some kind of code she didn’t know. Cringing with embarrassment, she cracked open the door that led into a hotel hallway. A cleaner’s cart sat two doors down. She’d better get out of here before they wandered in with the vacuum. Glancing around and scurrying like a cartoon character, she darted for the public elevators at the far end of the hall.

  Constance pressed the button and gritted her teeth with impatience. She couldn’t remember a single occasion in her life before now that she’d needed to skulk about and conceal her shockingly inappropriate activities.

  Naturally the elevator opened right into the elegant main lobby, which was unusually well populated for a weekday morning. Worse yet, she could see John giving a television interview in front of the decorative mural on the far side of the room. The cameraman with his bulky mike and the aggressively tanned male reporter almost blocked her way to the main exit, and she hesitated for a minute to plan her escape.

  John hadn’t seen her yet and she wanted to make sure he didn’t. She didn’t want him to smile and wave or otherwise draw attention to her.

  “...investigated by the Bureau of Indian Affairs on suspicion of fraud...” The reporter’s words assaulted her ears as she got closer. Little did they know the BIA’s official investigator was trying to sneak past them wearing yesterday’s underwear, with John Fairweather’s DNA licked into its fabric.

  John was talking now, looking directly at the reporter. She seized her chance to break for the door, avoiding his gaze as she strode across the lobby, heels clicking. Luckily the camera was facing the other way so she wouldn’t be caught on tape making her escape.

  She burst out into blinding sunlight with her adrenaline pounding and fumbled for her car keys, desperate to escape before anyone saw her or tried to talk to her.

  * * *

  Back in her hotel room, after showering and washing away John’s passionate touch, Constance called the office. “Nicola Moore of the BIA called about six times for you,” Lynn whispered into the phone. “She’s getting hysterical. Where have you been? There’s been some kind of exposé article published about the New Dawn casino and she wants to know if it’s true.”

  That would explain the TV reporter in the lobby. “What does it say?”

  “The usual stuff, how they’ve grown too big too fast and it can’t be legit.”

  “That’s hardly a news story.”

  “There’s some stuff about his uncle. I forget the guy’s name but apparently he has a colorful past. Money laundering or something similar.”

  Constance frowned. John’s uncle Don? She didn’t like the guy much. He gave off a sleazebag vibe. “Everything’s still checking out fine. They’re very profitable because there are people here throwing their money away twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Are you sure you’re not blinded to iniquity by John Fairweather’s dazzling smile?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” she retorted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so snappy.” What a shame she couldn’t explain why she hadn’t gotten too much sleep last night. “I’m starting to get annoyed with all the negative opinions that keep cropping up, when I can’t find any justification for them. I can’t help but think people are just jealous and resent the tribe’s success. Why shouldn’t they have some prosperity for a change? They’ve been kicked around since the 1600s. It’s about time they got to enjoy life a bit. I don’t know why people get so upset that they’re making money.”

  “Maybe because they don’t pay taxes on it?”

  “Actually, they do pay some taxes. It was built into their agreements with the state. And they provide employment in an otherwise depressed area. I’ve totally revised my opinion of the place and I wish everyone else would do the same.”

  “You sound very passionate.”

  Passionate? What an odd choice of word. She’d certainly experienced passion last night. It dwarfed her most ambitious daydreams. “Nonsense. I’m entirely practical. I can’t see why it’s okay for corporations to make money hand over fist and interpret laws to meet their needs, but not tribes. This is America. We love money and profits. You and I wouldn’t have a job without them!”

  Lynn laughed. “So true. Anyway, you’d better call Ms. Moore. She’s getting on my nerves.”

  “Will do. Hopefully I’ll be home in a day or two.” A twinge of sadness shot through her. Once she left she probably wouldn’t ever see John again. Which would make last night’s tryst a one-night stand. Shame swept over her in a hot tide. She’d fallen so easily into his arms. Worse yet, she craved the feel of his arms around her right now. Of his hot kisses claiming her mouth, the powerful sensation of him moving inside her.

  “Are you still there?” Lynn asked.

  “Yes. Yes. Just going over some notes.” Now she was lying. What next? If anyone found out that she’d had an affair with the man whose business she was supposed to be investigating, she’d be fired. She’d probably lose her accreditation and would never be able to find another job in the field.

  “They must be pretty interesting notes. And you’re missing some exciting happenings here at Creighton Waterman. Someone walked in on Lacey, the new trainee, getting up close and personal with Aaron Whitlow.”

  “What?” Mr. Whitlow was the straitlaced senior executive who gave them their annual reviews. “He must be twice her age. Maybe even three times!”

  “I know. Everyone is freaking out. Worse yet, the person who saw them was Leah, the head of personnel.”

  “Did Lacey get fired?”

  “She did. It makes me mad. Why does she have to leave? Why not him?”

  “He’s in a position of power.”

  “That’s hardly fair. She should file a sexual harassment lawsuit. But she didn’t want to. She said it was consensual. She was so upset, crying and red faced. I think she really cared about him.”

  Constance swallowed. “It is odd that relationships at work are so taboo. That is where most of us spend our time, after all.”

  “It’s because we’re supposed to behave like robots who only care about doing our jobs. Not actua
l people with feelings. Whitlow’s acting more robotic than ever, of course. Muttering orders under his breath, looking down his snooty nose at people. It does make me laugh to picture him fooling around with a much younger woman. Apparently she was sitting on his desk with her skirt up around her waist!”

  “Yikes.” Constance wanted to cringe. Desire. The same thing that had lured her irresistibly into John’s encouraging arms. When examined in the cold light of day, it was embarrassing and inappropriate. What would Lynn—or anyone—say if they could have seen her last night, writhing with pleasure in John’s bed?

  “The scandal has certainly livened things up around here, let me tell you. You’re missing all the fun.”

  “You know I hate gossip.” She tried to stay out of the petty squabbles around the watercooler.

  “I’ll certainly never see Whitlow in the same light again, that’s for sure.”

  “Isn’t he a widower? Maybe he was lonely.” Great. Now she was defending a man who’d fooled around with a much younger employee. Of course as a transgressor herself, she could sympathize with him in a way she’d never have been able to imagine even a week ago.

  Maybe this whole experience was part of her journey toward greater compassion and understanding. It was pretty humbling, all right. “I have another call coming in.”

  “All right. Call Nicola Moore at the BIA before she comes down there looking for you.”

  “Will do.” She hung up and grabbed the other call, adrenaline firing because she could see it was John.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.”

  Heat rose up from her chest. “Good morning yourself. I can’t believe you let me sleep in like that. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you. I had to get up for a media interview.”

  “I saw you doing it.” She didn’t want to say what she’d heard about the accusations against his uncle. It didn’t seem appropriate given their professional relationship. Still, she wanted to hear how he’d describe it. “What were they asking you about?”