Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“You and Olivia, then?” Her singsong tone has me turning back to find her eyes giving her away. I’d take the blame for that slip earlier, but I feel like me and Liv are both guilty. Although we weren’t doing anything wrong, I had visions of pinning her against the wall and kissing her until her knees got weak, and we took it inside her office behind closed doors.
Fuck.
A fire ignites in my groin. I shift quickly and return to my desk to hide any evidence of my growing interest in Liv. Acting busy—shuffling papers around, arranging my phone and a pen just so, tapping on the keyboard to bring it to life—I try to keep any feelings I have for Liv under wraps. I make the mistake of glancing up at Leanna. She’s taking in everything I do. I speak quickly. “Mr. and Mrs. Torres will be there.”
I doubt she will fall for the evasive, albeit correct, answer. They will be there, but I can’t say that I’m not looking forward to seeing Liv outside the office again.
Something about these walls sends hers soaring in defense. Like the sky outside, she becomes open to talking, sharing, even to me once we’ve left the premises.
“Nice try.” Leaning in, Leanna lowers her voice like someone else might be listening. “What exactly did I walk in on earlier?”
I was watching how Liv’s tongue dipped out to wet the corners of her lips, how her heart pulsed in the vein of her neck, and listening to how she swallows, not able to hide her reactions to me.
I’m not blind to how she physically responds to my proximity, but she appears to be completely unaware of my reactions to her.
I can’t admit any of that to Leanna, though, so I reply, “You didn’t walk in on anything. We were in the hall talking.”
She gets up to leave. “Sure looked like something. And if it did to me, it did to others.” Before she opens the door, she says, “Be careful, Noah. You already have Chip gunning for you. You don’t need more trouble.”
“Does this mean I’m your favorite boss ever?”
Bursting out laughing, she opens the door, and leaves. Quick to poke her head back in, she says, “Yes, but don’t tell any of the others.”
I kick back, grinning ear to ear. “Secret’s safe with me.”
With the rage tamed, I check emails to find that Liv sent the Torres file. I feel bad for making her do all this work when I see it’s sixty pages long, small font, single-spaced. “Shit.” It’s going to take me all night just to read through it.
Figuring it’s best to start now, I silence my calls and get to work.
Question . . .
I wait for Liv to reply to my text.
Answer . . .
She replies not a minute later, making me grin.
Thinking about texting her is fine, but I decide to call instead. It will be quicker that way. That I get to hear her voice is a bonus. The phone rings, and she answers right away. “Noah?”
“Hey. Hi. How are you?”
“Um. Fine. Why are you calling me?”
I shift. Not necessarily the greeting I hoped for, but she’s not entirely closed to the idea of chatting by her tone, which has remained even. “This file shows Leslie worked the Torres account solo for six months prior to Chip being brought on board.”
“Okay, so we’re talking business?”
She actually sounds disappointed. I approve of her wanting more. Is this the way to her heart? Just call? “Would you prefer if I kept it personal?”
“No,” she says, the response coming like a surprise attack. “This is fine. Um, yeah, Leslie worked the account from the dates I assigned in the file.”
While I try to piece my thoughts together more coherently, I rub the bridge of my nose. It’s a complicated issue that doesn’t appear to have a simple answer. I squeeze my eyes closed to soothe the burning after staring at a screen all day and night, and then say, “Being new at Bancroft & Lowe, maybe I don’t understand how expenses get approved because most of the money spent took place in the six months Chip was on the account.” There’s extended silence, so I ask, “Are you still there?”
“I’m here. I’m just confused.”
“By?”
“When I was initially working on the file, I was only assigning names to the expenses already approved by my father based on the requests. I wasn’t analyzing them. I can’t approve anything our employees spend above ten-thousand dollars, so I wasn’t investigating the client expenditures.” She sighs. “But I’ve also been distracted lately. Did you find an error?”
I’m close to laying my theory out for her, but I hesitate. She handles accounting expenses for associates and management. I expected the implications to ruffle her feathers, though that was the last thing I wanted because I know she’s not in on a scam. I do think she could end up taking the fall, though, if she’s not careful. “I didn’t find any errors. I have questions that I need an expert to explain it to me.”