After the Dawn (12 page)

Roman sipped his coffee. “You expect theft?”

“I'm not sure.” Dillon frowned in concentration. “Although the plant needs a major overhaul and they've lost a couple of clients, it shouldn't be in the poor financial position it's in.”

“If someone had their hand in the till, I'll know.”

“How long will that take?” Marlene asked as calmly as she could.

“Depends.” He gave her his full attention. “I'm very thorough.”

Shivers raced through her.

“And the best.” Dillon nodded toward Roman's empty plate. “If you're finished, we can leave?”

Roman took one last sip of coffee and stood. “A meal like this should be savored.”

Dillon came to his feet as well. “You're welcome anytime. Isn't that right, Mama?”

She tried to smile and hoped she succeeded. “Of course.”

Dillon leaned over and brushed his lips against his mother's cheek. “I might be later than usual. Let's roll, Roman.”

She could feel Roman's eyes on hers and refused to look up.

“Thank you again, Mrs. Montgomery, for a wonderful meal.”

Drawing on all of her courage, she lifted her head and stared straight at him. No man would ever have power over her again. “It's ‘Ms.' Good-bye.”

His brow arched in surprise, then Roman turned to leave with Dillon.

Marlene just sat there. She was too unsteady to do anything else.

Dillon wouldn't associate with a man who used women. He certainly wouldn't have an easy friendship or bring him into her home. Therefore, Roman might be a charmer, but he wasn't out for his own selfish pleasure—the way A. J. Reed had been.

It didn't matter. She had no intention of being anything more to Roman Santiago than the mother of a business associate.

She'd been a fool once over a man. Never again, no matter how he made her feel emotions she thought she'd locked away.

 

Six

Samantha walked through her office door at exactly seven fifty-two with a full stomach and a heavy heart. She'd sat through a silent breakfast with her uncle. She had to consider the unwanted thought that Dillon might be right. She wasn't sure she could face his disapproval at work and at home.

At least her aunt hadn't been there. The housekeeper said that if she didn't have a social engagement, she slept in and didn't come downstairs until after ten.

Going to the smaller desk, she opened the bottom drawer, placed her bag inside then went to the file cabinet. She had no intention of being useless. She wanted to help, learn the business, not just tag along.

After removing several files, she shoved the cabinet closed with more force than necessary. She returned to her desk. Dillon thought she was worthless. His sarcastic comment about looking cute still rankled. She'd show him.

Last night, she'd gone on the Internet to research turbo engines. If she had to, she wanted to be able to run the company by herself. She wasn't waiting or being dependent on either her uncle or Dillon.

Her office door opened and the man who occupied entirely too much of her thoughts entered with another man she didn't recognize. Dillon was dressed in a light blue polo shirt and jeans. He looked gorgeous, and for once he was smiling.

“Morning, Sam.”

“Good morning,” she said, smiling back at him without thought.

Dillon placed his hand on the man's shoulder. “Samantha Collins, meet Roman Santiago, the best C.P.A. in the country.”

“I would have settled for state.” Roman grinned and crossed the room to extend his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Collins.”

The handshake was firm, the dark eyes dancing with merriment. “Thank you for coming.”

“I like challenges.” Roman glanced back at Dillon. “Updating all of the accounts onto the computer certainly qualifies.”

“I like keeping my friends happy.” Dillon chuckled.

For a moment, Samantha simply stared at Dillon. She's never seen him this playful and … nice.

“I'll start scanning in the records for the past six months and work on them first to see if anything pops,” Roman said.

“Pops?” Samantha stopped ogling Dillon. “You think there's fraud?”

Roman looked contrite. “I thought she knew, since she's aware of why I'm here.”

Samantha rounded the desk and didn't stop until she was in front of Dillon. “I didn't, but I plan to. Talk.”

“Should I wait outside?” Roman asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“With all the orders we went over, revenues should have been better. We need to figure out why they aren't.” He nodded to Roman. “He's the best and can do it quickly and quietly.”

“You could have told me,” she said.

“I just did.”

There was no sense reminding him she was a partner. He didn't see it that way. One day he would. She looked at Roman. “l'll show you to your office. It's small, but has a window.”

“Once I start working I tend to block everything out.”

“I'll come down at closing,” Dillon said. “I'll ask Mama to cook for all of us so we can discuss how the day went.”

“I'm fast, but not that fast. Give me a couple of days.”

Samantha couldn't believe Dillon would ask his mother on such short notice to prepare dinner for two guests. “It will also give your mother more time to prepare for guests.”

“Mama doesn't need much notice, but we'll move it to tomorrow evening at six.”

“All right.” Roman held up two cases. “Then I better get started.”

“Certainly.” Samantha started toward the door, but a strong hand on her arm stopped her. She felt her body heat, her skin prickle.

“I'll do it,” Dillon told her. “I want people getting used to seeing me and giving orders.”

“Transition is difficult for people who've been with the company a long time,” Roman commented. “They'll soon get used to you and Ms. Collins being their boss.”

Dillon's attention switched to Samantha. “If only that was the case.”

Samantha accepted the dig. “Mr. Santiago, the employees think my uncle, my grandfather's oldest son, who works here as V.P., is their boss. I didn't want him embarrassed when people learned that he was passed over. I thought it would foster goodwill and make a better working relationship between us.”

“You wanna tell him how well the goodwill has worked with your uncle?” Sarcasm dripped from each word Dillon spoke.

Samantha sent Dillon a hard frown, which he ignored.

“No? Then I'll tell Roman.” Dillon's amicable expression had vanished the instant Samantha mentioned Evan still being perceived as the boss. “Evan Collins is an arrogant prick who thinks he's better than anyone. He refuses to help the company in any way and tells us we're going to fail every chance he gets and treats Sam as an interloper. Did I leave anything out?”

Her face heated. It was one thing for Dillon to know that her uncle thought she was incompetent and didn't like her, but it was quite another for an outsider to know. “No,” she said softly, glancing away.

“Come on, Roman, I'll show you to your office.” Dillon went to the door.

Samantha could feel Roman's gaze on her. She refused to meet it.

“Thank you again.” She went behind her desk and picked up the folder.

“Was that necessary?” she heard Roman ask.

If Dillon gave an answer, he spoke too softly for her to hear. A few moments later, she heard the door open and close. When she looked up, she was alone. Just as she'd been since she'd lost her parents.

*   *   *

Dillon didn't need Roman's reprimand to know he'd hurt Sam. He hadn't meant to. He just got angry whenever he thought of how badly Evan treated her. If he got another chance to punch Evan, he was taking it.

Opening the door of their joint office, he saw her hunched over the files. She looked small and vulnerable. And alone. Every battle he'd fought, he'd always known his mother would be there beside him battling just as hard. He couldn't imagine going through life with no one to fight for you.

His careless comment had reminded Sam of just that. He felt like crap.

She'd been thrust into this the same as he'd been. It wasn't her fault her uncle was an ass. What made him want to bow his head was that he wasn't sure he wasn't acting like one as well.

Sitting behind the larger desk, he glanced over. She didn't have a tissue in her hand, nor was she wiping at her eyes. He felt only marginally better that she wasn't crying.

He knew exactly why he was hard on her and pushed her. “You shouldn't let Evan walk all over you.”

She lifted her head. Her eyes were clear, and they were angry. “I suppose you're the only one allowed to do that.”

He was almost proud of her for not backing down. “I have your best interests at heart.”

“You have a strange way of showing it.” She went back to the file.

She was even prettier with a sparkle in her eyes. Dillon reached for a file. He was
not
going there. “Find anything yet?”

“Two of our biggest accounts' orders have steadily declined over the past year.” She turned toward him.

“Who is the account manager?”

She bit her lower lip. He immediately knew.

“Evan,” he snapped.

“Yes.”

“Figures.” Dillon snorted. “If he spent as much time on business as he did trying to impress people and goofing off, the company would be in better shape.”

“There are notations in the file made by Grandfather a couple of months ago, but I can't read his writing,” she said.

“Chicken scratch, he called it.” Dillon walked over to Sam and leaned over to try to decipher the writing.

Somehow his eyes stopped on the arousing swell of Samantha's breasts, the enticing scent of her perfume.

“Can you make it out?”

Dillon straightened. He would like to make out all right. “Nah. Mama probably could.”

“Maybe we could ask her tomorrow night.”

Was there a catch in her voice? Had her eyes widened just the tiniest bit?

“Yeah.” Dillon took his seat. If she was attracted to him, he was going to have one heck of a time resisting not taking her. “What do you know about turbochargers?”

“Turbochargers are engineered to force more air mass into an engine's intake manifold and combustion chamber. Compression by the turbocharger causes the intake of air to heat, rather than the air being heated by contact with the hot turbocharger itself.” She took a short breath. “A turbocharger gets its power from the exhaust stream. The exhaust runs through a turbine, which in turn spins the compressor,” she finished in a rush.

Dillon leaned back in his chair. “I'd be impressed if it sounded like you knew what you were talking about instead of spouting facts.”

She flushed.

“But it showed you're willing to learn.”

She smiled and sat up straighter, making her full breasts jut forward. Dillon was thankful he was sitting. His brain was definitely having a difficult time not thinking of Sam beneath him, hot and hungry for him. “There's modification and specifications to be considered.”

“Then teach me,” she told him. “I want to be an asset, not a liability. My father gave his life for this company. I won't let it fail without a fight.” Her voice trembled with earnest emotions, but no tears fell.

Dillon had to clench his hands to keep from taking her in his arms. He stood and gave her a tissue. “The first thing you have to learn is no tears.”

She balled the tissue in her hand. “Because it shows weakness?”

“Maybe in some people, but it just shows you have a soft heart.” He stared at her and watched surprise round her eyes. “Once your opponent knows that, you'll be at his mercy. If you feel emotions getting the best of you, excuse yourself or think of a person you detest and tell them to back off.”

“You never let anyone walk over you, did you?”

“No.” He usually didn't like to remember those days when some kid wanted to get in his face because his mother was single or later because of his rep as a hell-raising badass.

“It must be nice being that strong, yet you listen to and respect your mother.”

“She went through a lot for me,” he said quietly.

“And you probably still give her a hard time,” Samantha said, smiling.

White teeth flashed in his gorgeous face. Samantha almost sighed. She was flirting with hell's fire again. “It keeps her young.”

They sat smiling at each other. It was Dillon who broke the contact first. “We need those accounts back.”

Samantha picked up a sheet on her desk and walked over to his. She could get used to this easy rapport, even the sparks of lust. “I was going to ask you first, but I thought I should call them and kind of feel them out about why they left Collins.”

Dillon took the list. “I'll call.”

She reached for the list, inadvertently brushing her breast against his shoulder. She jumped back, her eyes huge.

Dillon cleared his throat and rolled his shoulder when he wanted to take Sam in his arms and kiss her until they both forgot to breathe and go from there. “I—I'll make the call. If they ask you anything beyond the basics, you won't know the answer. Plus, I'm not bragging, but if they've heard of my reputation as an expert on high-performance cars and my work with the vintage car racing circuit, it might help us get through.”

Sam reached for the phone on his desk, dialed, and handed him the receiver. “You're on.”

Dillon took the phone, glad to see that his hand trembled only the tiniest bit. Sam got to him as no other woman ever had. “Frank Thomas, please. Dillon Montgomery with Collins Industry and Vintage Racing calling.…

“I understand,” he said moments later. “Please have him call me at 955-555-7777 at his earliest convenience. I have some exciting news to share with him. Thank you. Good-bye.” Hanging up, he said to a hovering Sam, “He's out of town on a business trip, but his secretary said she'd relay the message.”