A HIGH STAKES SEDUCTION (16 page)

Right now he was ready for Constance to leave.

Not because he didn’t want to see her again. Because he wanted to be done with all the secrecy and subterfuge, and that couldn’t end until she was no longer investigating him. He needed her to go back to Ohio, wrap up her assignment, and then they could start over again.

And that couldn’t happen soon enough.

* * *

Back at her hotel, Constance showered and returned some phone calls. It was Friday and the perfect day to pack up and leave, but for some reason she had a feeling she’d no longer be irritated by a request to stay for a few more days. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to John. In fact she was secretly hoping they’d get to spend at least one more night together.

She knew such thoughts were possibly signs of appalling moral degeneration, but she couldn’t remember ever having this much fun with anyone before, and she wasn’t ready to go back to her humdrum existence yet.

She called the BIA with considerable trepidation. She was starting to feel like a total fraud as far as they were concerned. If they knew what she was up to with John, they’d fire her firm on the spot and probably sue her for damaging their reputation. She decided to mention the closest thing to a discovery that she’d come across. “Don Fairweather gambles in the casino. He had substantial winnings last year. More than fifty thousand.”

“Did he pay taxes on his winnings?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t looked at the individual tribal members’ tax returns.”

“Request them, and take a look.”

“Which members?” Was she going to have to look into the returns of every low-level staffer? She felt like rubbing her hands together. That would take several days.

She didn’t want to look into John’s, though. That seemed far too personal.

“Anyone who’s been gambling,” Nicola replied. “You’ll quickly find out who’s honest. And request returns for the key players, including John Fairweather. Take a look at income, expenses, deductions. Poke around a bit. Look into at least five people in total.”

“Aren’t tax returns confidential? What if they won’t allow me access?”

“Then I’ll secure a subpoena.”

Constance felt jumpy and anxious as she pulled back into the casino parking lot. Personal income tax records? Many people didn’t even like sharing the information with their spouse. She took the elevator up to the offices, hoping John wasn’t there. It was awkward seeing him in the professional context of the office after what had gone on between them. She always felt her blood heat at the first glimpse of him, then that embarrassing slow smile wanting to creep across her face. And she’d rather request his tax records in a polite text or email than have to look into his eyes while she asked to pry into his personal business.

Of course he was there. Larger than life and twice as handsome. He was talking to a man she recognized from the cashier’s office as she approached, but he dismissed him with a nod. The twinkle in his eyes warred with his cool and professional demeanor.

“Hi, Constance.”

She straightened her shoulders and tried to affect a disinterested expression. “Good morning.” As if she was saying it for the first time.

“Good morning. I trust you slept well.” His low voice caused awareness to ripple through her. They walked toward his office together.

“Very well, thank you.” He should know. He’d had to wake her up from her blissful slumber. She kept her voice clipped. “Can I speak to you in private?”

“Of course.” They took the elevator up to his office. She could feel his curiosity heating the atmosphere as they rode up in silence. She did her best to avoid his glance, afraid of the effect it might have on her.

She took a deep breath. “My contact at the BIA has requested that I look into the personal tax returns of several key people.”

His expression darkened. “Who?”

“You.” She spat it right out. She’d chosen people from different departments and in different stages of life so there would be some variety, and she’d included the three gamblers. “Your uncle Don, Paul McGee, Mona Lester, Susan Cummings, Anna Martin and Darius Carter.”

“Darius? He’s just a kid. He barely even pays taxes.”

She shrugged. She’d picked him because he held a key role in the day-to-day running of the casino. “Shall I speak to each person individually?”

“Why these people?”

“They were chosen more or less at random.” She didn’t want to go into detail. It really wasn’t his business. He must have read her reluctance because he paused for a moment, but didn’t ask more questions.

“I’ll talk to them.” His brow had furrowed.

“Do you think any of them will object?”

“I’ll make sure they don’t. Besides, we all filed the taxes already, so what is there to hide?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll have them all for you by the end of the day.”

“Much appreciated.” Phew. That was easy. As long as none of the individuals objected, of course.

“I want to kiss you.” His voice was ripe with suggestion.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her own voice was barely a whisper. Her lips twitched to do exactly what he’d suggested. “I have work to do.”

“So do I. But that doesn’t stop me wanting you.”

“You’re trouble.”

“I can’t argue with you. I certainly seem to be trouble where you’re concerned.” They’d reached his office. “Though I don’t have any regrets.”

He closed the door. They kissed for a solid five minutes, tongues tangling and biting each other’s lips until their breath came in ragged gasps.

“I used to be a dignified professional, I’ll have you know,” she stammered when their lips finally parted.

“I used to be a sane man. Since you showed up here everything has gone out the window.” Cool and calm as always, in his dark gray suit and pale blue shirt he looked the picture of sanity. Of course he was probably just pretending to be besotted with her. Or maybe even allowing himself to be as a temporary condition. He’d be over her before she even drove across the Ohio state line. “I hope it will take a while to go through all our returns.”

“I hope not. It’s embarrassing and totally unprofessional, but I really don’t want to find anything wrong here.” She couldn’t believe she’d confessed that to him.

“Uh-oh. I hope I’m not compromising your professional integrity.” His wicked grin warmed her as his big hands squeezed her hips gently.

“Nothing could compromise my professional integrity. Believe me, if I found something, I’d report it.”

“I love that about you, Constance. I bet everyone always knows where they stand with you.”

“I used to think so. I’m sure my employer would be rather surprised if they knew you were squeezing my butt right now.”

He slid his hand back up to her waist with a rueful expression. “True. But since our intimacy doesn’t affect your professional integrity, they really shouldn’t mind at all.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m sure they would.” She straightened his pale yellow tie, which had gotten crooked. “Now you and I should at least pretend to do some work. Preferably in separate rooms, as we don’t seem to be too professional anymore when we’re in the same space.”

“All right, Constance. I’ll see you later, and I’ll have everyone go home at lunch and pick up their tax returns.”

“Perfect.” Could it really be that easy? “And I might need to speak to each of them individually after I’ve had a chance to look over the paperwork. I might even need to look at their personal banking records to make sure everything adds up.” She held her breath. No one wanted a total stranger looking into their personal finances. On the other hand, it was one of her favorite things to request, since the person’s reaction told you a lot about how honest they were.

“I’ll warn them. And I consider myself warned.” He winked. He didn’t look at all worried, which was quite a relief.

She had one more question for him. One she already knew the answer to. “Do any of the tribal members gamble in the casino?”

“I don’t do it myself and I prefer that other employees don’t. Besides, they know better than anyone that over time the house always wins. Don likes to play a little, but no one else gambles regularly. Believe me, I keep close tabs on all our employees, especially the younger ones.”

“Does Don win?”

“He says he does.” John winked. “Whether he’s telling the truth is a whole different story. We do keep files on employee gambling, though.”

“Could I take a look at those?” No need to mention that she’d already seen them and knew Don had big winnings. It would be interesting to see from Don’s tax return whether he was claiming them. She felt a little guilty pretending to be totally in the dark, but at least now she felt as though she was actually doing her job.

“Of course.” He leaned over the laptop on the desk and tapped a few keys. The file she’d found by herself popped up. “You won’t find my name in there.”

“I’m glad that you don’t gamble.”

“Me, too. It’s much safer being the house than trying to beat it.”

He didn’t even glance at the file, so confident that the records were all aboveboard and would speak for themselves. She loved how honorable John was. Another kiss on the lips and a warm hug left her dizzy. Her heart ached as the door closed behind him. If parting from him now hurt her even a little, how was she going to feel when he was gone for good?

Nine

J
ohn didn’t invite her over that night. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as she drove back to her hotel, the employees’ tax returns sitting on her passenger seat. He probably had some kind of meeting. Or something important to do. Or bigger plans. It was Friday night, after all.

If she had a life she’d drive back to Ohio for the weekend. But it made more sense to stay here, save the gas money and bill more hours.

For dinner, she ate a Chinese chicken salad and drank a Diet Coke at her hotel room desk while she watched the news. The pile of tax returns now stared at her from the end of her bed. She was literally afraid to look at them. Normally the prospect of delving into freshly unearthed personal papers filled her with unreasonable glee. Now it just made her nervous about confronting her own principles.

What if she found something in John’s tax return? Excessive write-offs or under-reporting of taxes owed, maybe. She’d be duty bound to report her findings, or even any suspicions. Should she tell him first, so he’d have a chance to explain? She’d told him she would, but that would go in the face of everything she’d learned about forensic accounting. Never give people a chance to cover their tracks.

He hadn’t said anything at all about whether it was easy or hard to convince the employees to hand over their returns. Maybe they respected him so much they’d do anything he asked. She’d expected at least someone to put up a fight. So far it was all going too smoothly. For reasons she couldn’t put her finger on, that made her nervous.

She picked his tax return off the pile first with trembling fingers. His income was exorbitant, of course, but most of it was from personal investments that had nothing whatsoever to do with New Dawn. He’d only paid himself a salary of one hundred thousand from the casino and hotel. That impressed her. He’d taken plenty of personal deductions and travel expenses, but nothing out of the ordinary. His return looked similar to many she’d seen belonging to successful company owners and high-level executives. He’d paid a great deal in taxes, mostly capital-gains tax, so the government should be quite happy to have John Fairweather as a taxpayer. After several hours combing through the schedules, she heaved a sigh of relief and moved on.

Darius’s and Anna’s returns reflected their modest incomes and were totally uncomplicated, and they’d both received a small amount of money back when they filed. Anna had reported her small gambling winnings, so there was no problem there. Mona had gotten divorced in the middle of the year, so her return was more elaborate, but still nothing to arouse suspicion.

She left Don’s for last. It was almost as thick as John’s and she soon discovered that he actually earned more than John from New Dawn. No doubt it was John’s way of keeping a senior family member happy. Still, the salary was far from outrageous for a senior executive at such a profitable enterprise, and Don had paid taxes at a high rate and taken fairly reasonable deductions.

But as she combed through the schedules, she saw nothing at all about proceeds from personal gambling. Her Spidey-sense tingled with alarm. Normally this was a good feeling that she was about to earn her keep and justify her employment at a top accounting firm. But right now it came with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding. She went through the return again. Still no sign of any winnings or losses. Since the casino workers openly admitted to him gambling, and she’d seen him do it with her own eyes, it was clearly an omission. Even though table games like roulette and blackjack didn’t require that the casino submit Form W2-G to the IRS, the gambler was certainly required to declare winnings and she’d seen the records detailing Don’s fifty thousand dollars in profits.

Her phone rang and she almost jumped out of her skin. It was Lynn from work. What was she doing calling on a Friday night? “Hi.” Constance hoped she could get her off the phone quickly.

“I hope you’re back in Cleveland because you’re the only person I know who will go see the new Disney movie with me.”

Constance couldn’t help laughing. “I would love to see it, but I’m still in Massachusetts.”

“Why didn’t you drive home for the weekend? I guess you can’t bring yourself to leave the sexy casino boss.”

“What? You’re crazy. I barely even see him.” She realized she’d spoken too fast and too loud.

“Oh, boy. I did hit a nerve. I always knew you’d be interested if the right man came along.”

“You’re talking nonsense. I could care less about John Fairweather.”

Lynn laughed. “Don’t you mean
couldn’t
care less? If you could care less then it means you care quite a bit.”

“You know what I mean.” Constance leaped to her feet and paced in her small hotel room. “I’m only interested in his financial data.” Now she was lying to her closest friend. “Which is checking out fine.”