She lowered her gaze to her hands clasped in her lap. The cheap gray skirt molded to her thighs, directly above the blood that oozed from her scraped knees. Under her thin coat, the dark blue silk blouse clung to her breasts, and she shuddered. “I, um, apparently I made a mistake,” she whispered. “One of Hayes’s clients had an independent audit done. We didn’t know anything about it. Hayes was out of the office, and Carter pulled the file. Their tax due—what their independent auditor found—was off for each of the last four years. Carter didn’t want me to see the file, but I caught a glimpse. IknowI did those returns correctly. But the bill they paid—the one that Carter had—it wasn’t the bill I prepared. I tried to tell Carter that we had to go back over the numbers, figure out what happened. But he insisted they had, and it was my mistake. ‘One of many,’ he said. Last year alone, the discrepancy was almost three hundred thousand dollars. The client was livid. Carter fired me on thespot.”
“You don’t strike me as a woman who makesmistakes.”
“I’m not. My track record is impeccable. Numbers…they stick in my head. Always have. I can tell you every phone number I’ve ever had. What I paid in taxes down to the penny. But last year was so busy. I worked my ass off to try to get ahead. Carter’s a misogynist. I handled two hundred clients last year. More than any other accountant in the firm. Carter wouldn’t let me see the whole file. Only one return. But it wasn’t right. Iknowit wasn’tright.”
Tears gathered in Elizabeth’s eyes. She didn’t know why she’d confessed all of this to Alexander Fairhaven. Or why he’d care. Her gaze shifted out the window, the gray skyline of the city she loved streaming by. The silence in the car grew until it developed a physical presence all itsown.
A quick rap on the glass alerted her that the car had stopped. How long had it been? Alexander tapped once in return, and the door opened. Thomas held Elizabeth’s bag in his hand, her apartment looming behind him. Even the torrential downpour couldn’t quash the stench of garbage that wafted up from the bins next to the building. Alexander unfolded his six-foot-three frame and extended his hand to help herout.
She climbed awkwardly to her feet, trying not to flash him as her skirt hiked up herthighs.
“Give me yourkey.”
Elizabeth took a step back, shocked, but Alexander caught her wrist and drew her against him. God, he was hot. Under the gray business suit and crisp blue shirt, he was a mass of sculpted muscle. His arm banded tightly around her back, pressing her breasts against his firmchest.
“Your key, Elizabeth.Now.”
She dug into the inner pocket of her purse and fished out her sopping wet keys. Alexander slid them from her chilled fingers and walked her to the building’s door where she punched in hercode.
“I’ll be a bit, Thomas. I intend to see Miss Bennett upstairs. Get out of the rain,” Alexander said to his driver as he took the plastic bag filled with Elizabeth’sbelongings.
“You’re double parked,” Elizabeth murmured as Alexander led her into the foyer and punched the elevatorbutton.
“It doesn’t matter,” he bit out, distracted, as they stepped into the lift. “This elevator is a deathtrap.”
“I usually take the stairs. Fourth floor.” The scotch had loosened her tongue. Or perhaps it was Alexander’s scent, the sandalwood, cedar, and cloves that invaded her nose. And he was warm. So very warm. Her clothes were still soaked through, and she shivered in the crook of hisarm.
When the elevator sputtered to a halt on her floor, Alexander leaned down so his lips brushed her ear. “Whichunit?”
“Four-oh-six.”
Alexander led her down the hall and then slid her key into the lock. He kept her tight against his body as he surveyed the apartment with a critical eye. All of Elizabeth’s furniture was second hand, well used, and worn. But there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere. Her orange tabby cat, River Song, padded out of the bedroom, and when she saw Alexander, she meowed once and wound around hislegs.
Stepping over the cat, Alexander urged Elizabeth into her bedroom. “Change clothes. Do you drink coffee or tea this late in theday?”
“Tea. Left-hand cabinet,second—”
“I will find it.” The door shut and River meowed. Elizabeth gave the cat an absent-minded scratch behind the ears. “I don’t know, sweetie. But I think he’strouble.”
Alexander could barely contain his anger. He knew of Carter, Pastack, and Hayes. His family even used them for some of their holdings. Not his division, but his brother’s. Carter was an ass, but he’d thought they were a reasonable company on the whole. Still, there was no reason for him to harbor such anger towards them over a woman he’d only met half an hour ago. Why was he even here? Elizabeth Bennett was nothing. A low-level accountant. But there was a spark in her eyes that hinted at a dizzying intellect. She spoke with the refinement of one who’d had a top-notch education, but she lived in a ramshackle building with second-hand furniture. There was obvious pride, both in her demeanor and her flat’s cleanliness. She carried herself as if she belonged in his social circle, but no one he’d ever associated with lived in such conditions. One of his suits probably cost more than her monthly rent. Even inBoston.
Withdrawing his phone, Alexander dashed off an email to his brother. As part of the business agreement between Fairhaven Exports and Carter, Pastack, and Hayes, Nicholas had easy access to their basic employeeinformation.
While he waited for a response, Alexander set a kettle on the tiny two-burner stove, then casually inspected the contents of Elizabeth’s cabinets and her fridge. She had good taste in tea, he’d give her that. And she liked grilled cheese sandwiches and redwine.
Withdrawing two mismatched mugs from the cabinet, he took his time preparing the Fortnum & Mason Queen Annetea.
As the floral aroma wafted up, his phone buzzed with Nicholas’s reply. Apparently, Elizabeth had worked for Carter, Pastack, and Hayes for five years. She was Harvard educated, but her salary was a mere sixty thousand a year, barely enough to live inBoston.
“You’re still here,” Elizabeth said as she emerged from the bedroom. She probably thought the oversized green sweatshirt and ill-fitting gray fleece pants hid her figure, but in fact, they enhanced it. Her breasts would be heavy in his hands, and she had a small waist, which gave way to the generous curve of her hips. He’d caught a glimpse of her long legs in the limo. Perhaps she was a runner. Her hair, the color of spun gold, was now dry and secure in a knot at the back of her head, and her makeup wasgone.
“Sit down,” Alexandersaid.
Her blue eyes narrowed, but she did as he asked, watching him warily as he carried the mugs of tea to where she sat on a threadbaresofa.
“I hope you do not mind. I took the liberty. I am sorry to say that you’re now out of tea.” He lifted his mug in a small toast, and shenodded.
Alexander could read her body language easily—the defensive set of her shoulders, the furrow between her brows, and the tiny lines around her lips. So expressive, though he’d bet she thought she gave awaynothing.
