A HIGH STAKES SEDUCTION (8 page)

“His name is John as well?”

“Yes.” They walked up the slate front path.

“Does that make you Little John?”

He smiled. “I suppose it does. But if you call me that I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

She wanted to laugh. As they climbed the steps she could see that the younger John towered over his grandfather by at least eight inches and was fifty-plus pounds heavier, all of it solid muscle.

“This is Constance. She’s come here all the way from Ohio to be a thorn in my side.”

Big John stuck out a gnarled hand. “Pleased to meet you, Constance.” He shook her hand with warmth, using both hands to embrace it. “It’s not easy to be a thorn in this man’s side. His hide is too tough. Come in.”

She followed him into a sunlit foyer, where they were greeted by a tall, rather beautiful woman of about seventy. “This is my mom, Phyllis. She’s actually my grandmother, but she raised me so I’ve always called her Mom.”

“Hello, Constance.” She also had a firm handshake. Constance could see where John got his inquisitive gaze. She thought it was cute that he called her Mom. “It’s not often that John brings a young lady to visit us.” Her bright eyes scanned Constance from head to toe.

“Oh, I’m actually not...” Not what? A young lady? She glanced nervously at John.

“Not what?” he said unhelpfully.

“I’m here on business.” She glanced from his grandmother to his grandfather. “For the Bureau of Indian Affairs.”

“Is that so,” said Big John. His expression hardened. She was beginning to get the impression that the BIA was not a much-loved organization.

“I was just showing her our museum. Since she’s interested in Indian affairs and all.” Constance saw a smile tugging at the corner of John’s mouth. “Then I thought she should meet the real reasons we’re all here. My mother died when I was young,” he told her, “and my grandparents brought me up to be aware of our Nissequot roots. I have to admit that when my friends played cowboys and Indians I wanted to be a cowboy so I could have the gun.” He smiled mischievously. “And I wasn’t all that interested in hearing stories about how the world was created on the back of a turtle.”

His grandfather laughed. “He just wanted to know if the Nissequot liked to fight.”

“But they stubbornly persisted in teaching me everything they knew, and it must have taken root somewhere under my thick hide, because I remembered it all.”

“How did you know the legends yourselves? Are they all written down somewhere?” Constance couldn’t help her curiosity.

“Some stories are. Others are recited or sung,” replied Phyllis. “As long as there’s one person in each generation left to pass the stories along, they don’t die out. Even the family members who’ve come back to us from places like Chicago and L.A. knew something about their heritage—a song their grandmother used to sing, or just that they were from the Nissequot tribe, even though no one else had ever heard of it. We’re so blessed to have John. He’s the kind of leader needed to bring the tribe back from near extinction and make it flourish again.”

“And there I thought I was just trying to make a buck.” He winked at Constance.

“The spirit moves in mysterious ways,” said his grandfather. “Sometimes none of us are sure what we’re doing until we can look back later. We thought we were trying to run a dairy operation, but we were really keeping our claim on the land going until John was ready to take over.”

“John bought us eight cows last Christmas as a present.” Phyllis smiled at him.

“Beef cattle,” John cut in. “Aberdeen Angus. No more milking.” He shrugged. “The place didn’t feel right with no cattle on it.”

“He missed the sound they make.”

“They’re an investment. Good breeding stock.”

Phyllis smiled at Constance. “He’s a lot more sentimental than he’d have you believe.”

John huffed. “Nonsense. We’d better get going. I wanted Constance to see that we’re not just numbers on a balance sheet or names on a census.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Constance smiled and waved goodbye, then followed John, who was already halfway out the door. His grandparents stood looking after them, amusement glowing on their faces. He bounded down the front steps and jumped back into the car. The engine was already running by the time she maneuvered herself into her seat.

“They seem very nice.”

“Like me.” He winked.

“I have to admit that you do seem nicer than all the media stories make you out to be.”

“I told you not to believe everything you read. Don’t start thinking I’m a pushover, though. I’m as ruthless as I need to be.” He tilted his stony jaw as if to prove it.

“Ruthless, huh?”

He focused his dark eyes on her as they paused at the end of the driveway. A shiver of arousal jolted her and she remembered the alarming power he had over her. “Merciless.”

John Fairweather knew exactly what he was doing at every moment. Including when he’d kissed her. And she’d better not forget that.

Five

T
hat afternoon, back in John’s office, Constance focused on expenses and other outgoings. Expenses were large, as would be expected, and there were definitely some extravagances, but nothing she hadn’t seen at other booming corporations.

Around six o’clock she emerged from John’s office, ready to head for her hotel. She was relieved that she could be done here in a day or two. Everything was checking out and she and John would no doubt both be relieved to see the back of each other.

Speaking of John’s back, there it was, barring the hallway to the elevators. Her heart rate rose just at the sight of him, which was ridiculous. He stood in conversation with a young payroll employee named Tricia.

“Good night,” she muttered as she skirted carefully around them.

“Constance!” His voice boomed through her consciousness. “Come down and watch the action on the floor with me. It really picks up in the evenings. You should see the place when it’s busy.”

“No, thanks. I need to get back to the hotel.” She kept her eyes focused on the far end of the hallway. But he moved past her and pressed the button for the elevator before she reached it.

“You’re knocking off work to relax when you should be examining the details of our operations? I’m shocked, Constance.”

Her gaze darted to him as an urge to defend herself rushed over her. “It’s really just the paperwork that interests me.”

He lifted a dark brow. “I think you’re being remiss in your duties. I’d think the BIA would want to know all the gory details of how we operate. I wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted a full report on everyone who works here.”

“They’ll need to hire a private investigator for that. I’m an accountant.” The elevator opened and she dived in. Of course he came right after her.

His proximity did something really annoying to her body temperature. Suddenly she was sweating inside her conservative suit. Maybe her new blouse had too much synthetic fabric in it. She felt a frown form on her brow and attempted to smooth it away. She didn’t want him to know that his presence rattled her so much.

“You’ve only observed the casino during the day so far. We’re virtually empty then. You should really take a look at the place during the evenings, when most of our customers are here. It’s the best way to see how we do business.”

He did have a point. If she were her boss, she’d tell her to stay. Should she really let her inappropriate attraction to John Fairweather prevent her from doing her job properly? “I suppose you’re right. There’s no need for you to accompany me, though. I don’t want to bother you.”

Constance saw that familiar sparkle of mischief in his dark eyes. “On the contrary. It would be my pleasure.”

When the elevator doors opened, she prepared for him to try to slide his arm through hers, or take her hand, but he simply gestured for her to go first. She walked ahead of him toward the game rooms. Was he looking at her behind? She felt her hips swing a little more than usual, and immediately tried to prevent it. She was probably letting her imagination run away with her, which she confirmed when she turned to find him texting on his phone.

He’s not attracted to you, Constance. Why would he be? He just kissed you because he could. He’s that kind of man.

“Let’s get you a drink.”

“No!” The protest flew from her mouth so loudly it made her glance around.

He smiled. “We have fresh-squeezed fruit juice at the bars. Leon does an amazing concoction of fresh pineapple juice with fresh coconut milk and a dash of his secret spices. Totally nonalcoholic.”

“That does sound good.” Coconut milk was supposed to be healthy and she’d never tried it.

He ordered two of the drinks, which arrived in large glass goblets with the casino’s sunrise logo on them. He lifted his glass. “Here’s to you discovering everything there is to know about us, and liking what you see.”

She merely nodded. She wasn’t supposed to hope that she’d like everything she saw. That would discourage her from looking for problems. She sipped her drink, though, and found it creamy and delicious. “I admit this is really good. I usually just drink soda when I’m out. I guess I’ll have to branch out.”

“I’m always asking them to invent new beverages. There’s no reason why us nondrinkers should be left out in the cold.”

“You don’t drink alcohol?”

“Nope. I steer well clear of it. It killed my mom.”

“What? I thought she was really young when she died.”

“She was twenty. She died in a car wreck. Drove off an overpass. It would never have happened if she’d been sober.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too. I don’t remember her at all. I was only six months old when she died. Luckily for me, she’d left me with a friend for the night. My grandparents made me swear never to touch the stuff and I’ve never seen a reason to defy them.”

“Very sensible.” Her prim reply embarrassed her. John had endured a devastating loss. It must be so odd to grow up not knowing the woman who gave birth to you. “Do you get mad at her for not being there for you?”

He paused, and looked right at her with a curious expression in his eyes. “Yes. When I was younger I was angry with her for not being more careful. Seems crazy, really. It does make me keep a close eye on the younger kids here, though. Especially the ones who’ve moved away from family to join us. I’m a big fan of stern lectures.”

She smiled. “You sound like my parents. I grew up on a steady diet of stern lectures.”

“And look how well you turned out.”

“Some would say I’m far too conservative for my own good.”

“And I’d be one of them.” He winked. “Still, that’s better than some of the alternatives. Let’s go watch the roulette tables.”

“You’re not going to make me play, are you?”

He laughed. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

* * *

What was it about Constance that got under his skin? John stood next to her as the wheel spun and the ball danced between black and red. She was so unlike the usual stream of glamorous women who hung around him, sniffing the scent of money or promising a steamy affair.

Constance stood with her arms crossed over her prim suit, eyes fixed firmly on the table and not a hint of flirtation in her gestures.

But he knew she was as attracted to him as he was to her. The shine in her eyes when she looked at him, the glow in her cheeks, the way she angled her body toward him unconsciously—it all spoke of the desire that crackled between them so forcefully you could almost hear it snap in the air.

She didn’t want to like him. Or to want him. But somehow that only heightened the tension building as they stood next to each other, pretending to focus on the white ball.

It dropped into a slot and the wheel slowed to a halt. One woman squealed with delight and smiled as the croupier slid a pile of chips toward her. John glanced at Constance and saw the tiny hint of a smile that hovered about her pretty mouth. “That’s why they keep coming back,” he said softly.

“I can see how it would be fun.” She leaned into him so he could hear her but no one else could. Her scent tugged at his sense. “But I’d still rather make money the old-fashioned way.”

“Me, too. I’ll take hard work over chance any day of the week.” He leaned still closer until he could almost feel the heat of her skin. “But everyone’s different.”

Did he like her because she was different? It didn’t really make sense. There was no good reason to flirt with and tempt this woman. She was here on professional business and it was inappropriate for him to even have sensual thoughts about her.

Yet he couldn’t seem to stop.

As he’d promised, he had no intention of making her do anything she didn’t want to. But making her want to? That was a whole different story.

* * *

One time at a college mixer someone had given Constance a glass of orange juice mixed with vodka—without mentioning the vodka. She still remembered the way the world around her had grown blurry, and she’d found herself laughing at things that weren’t even funny. She felt like that right now, though she was sure she’d had nothing but fruit juice all evening.

“...and then after we won every game that season, they wouldn’t let me go.” John leaned into her again, brushing her arm with his. Her skin sizzled inside her suit. “It was a pain in the ass. All I wanted to do was study statistics, and I had to get all this tiresome fresh air and sunshine.”

She laughed. He’d been telling her about how he’d joined the college football team entirely for the scholarship money and then accidentally became their star player. Of course he had. He was one of those people who effortlessly succeeded at everything they tried. Or maybe not effortlessly. He just made it look that way.

“It must get annoying being so good at everything.”

“You think I’m bragging?”

“I’m pretty sure of it.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to hide her smile. He hadn’t really volunteered any information she hadn’t asked for. She wanted to know more about him. At first she told herself she was doing “research.” Now she was too darn curious to stop. “What did your team members think of you?”