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Devin Harris bit back his scathing response because George was right, which shredded his ego like sandpaper on sliced Rye.
Ryder Falcon. Shit, with a name like that she should be in skin-tight red leather, fighting super villains in a comic book. Lord knew she was tough enough to make normal men quake in their pleated Dockers. He’d learned that for himself during their one hot night together when he’d licked his way down her toned abs and up her hard thighs.
It was a damn good thing he’d acquired an immunity to her particular brand of super-powered hotness in the three weeks since they’d hooked up. He barely noticed the way her tigh
t body filled out the fitted, black suit that hugged her slim curves in all the right places. He’d already completely forgotten how she’d tasted of cinnamon, spice, and no-holds-barred sex so good his balls had practically sung the Hallelujah Chorus when he’d come the first time—and every other time that night. What he hadn’t forgotten was that he’d woken up alone like a loser the next morning.
How many times had he called her cell only to be met by a deafening busy signal? His father may be right that he was just a stubborn ex-jock with a dented brain, but he’d finally gotten her message. The last thing he needed in his life was another woman who sent mixed signals—no matter how sexy she was. Been there. Done her. Never want to again.
“Ryder, I apologize for my right-hand man’s rudeness. Let me introduce you. Devin Harris is our general merchandise manager.” George ambled around the desk, his over-indulged belly leading the way. “He blames himself for the troubles, which I’ve already told him is preposterous—unless, of course, he’s the one syphoning off my cash.” He chuckled at his own joke and held out his hand to Ryder. “Devin, this lovely lady is Ryder Falcon with Maltese Security.”
She shook his hand, her jaw tightening when the CEO held on for a few beats too many. Irritation tightened Devin’s spleen when he realized he’d actually counted how many seconds the handshake had lasted.
“Is there anyone who sticks out as a possible suspect?” she asked.
“All the signs point to Craig in accounting,” Devin snarled. “I’m just choosing to ignore them because I want to sabotage the deal to take Dylan’s Department Store global.”
Even to himself, his sarcasm sounded like the spoiled, petulant teenager he used to be. Ryder didn’t miss his snotty tone, either. She pivoted to face him. When he’d stripped her down to her see-through black bra and panties with her feet flat on the floor, she’d stood almost eye to eye with him. Today, in her heels, she added a good three inches to her height, putting her at just over six feet.
Looking up to a woman like Ryder would have some men on edge, but Devin relished the challenge she presented. Not that he wanted her under—or above—him again, but nothing got his blood pumping faster than someone telling him he couldn’t do something.
And Ryder Falcon was a walking stop sign.
“I’m not questioning your abilities,” she said in a tone that did just that. “I was simply starting my research. The more I know about the situation, the faster I’ll be able to track down the embezzler and recover your lost funds.”
George patted his stomach. “My thoughts exactly. That’s why I want you to come onboard and pose as Devin’s personal assistant during the investigation. That will give you access to most of our people without raising too many eyebrows.”
The wind rushed out of Devin’s lungs as if he’d gotten a side kick to the chest. “What are you talking about?” His lungs ached with the effort of sputtering out the five words. “I can do this on my own.”
Just looking at Ryder Falcon made him feel like he was on a roller coaster, and that annoyed the hell out of him. He’d spent most of his early life bouncing from good time to good time, living down to his father’s constant and loudly expressed low expectations. Now, he appreciated the solid, the steady, the predictability of a five a.m. workout and a demanding job that left him elated and exhausted by eleven at night.
“It’s perfectly logical to partner you two up. We need her expertise. She needs access, which you can give her. Everyone knows you’re going through the books prior to the merger. And MulitCorp doesn’t need to know anything about this little snafu before we finalize the merger next week. You and I both know they’ll run like cockroaches when the lights come on if they even hear a rumor that our financials aren’t what they’re supposed to be. That gives you two a week to find the culprit and, hopefully, recover the stolen funds, before I have to give MultiCorp full access to our books prior to the final signatures.”
Ryder’s face had frozen into a neutral mask, but the way she twisted a strand of long, dark brown hair around a finger gave away her nervousness. “Sir, I can work much more efficiently and effectively on my own. There’s really no need to involve Mr. Harris in this.”
Mr. Harris, was it? That extra little bit of formality, considering the sweaty circumstances of their last meeting, woke up the natural antagonist in him. No way was she working a case alone, and she sure as hell wouldn’t work it with anyone but him. “I don’t know Ms. Falcon. If I remember correctly, we can work very well together.”
If she could have slit him open with a look, his guts would have been spilled all over George’s pin-neat desk.
The old man looked from one to the other, his eyes bloodshot but still keen as ever. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” No doubt he had picked up on the undercurrent and planned to exploit it to his best advantage. After all, the old man hadn’t made Dylan’s Department Store the must-shop-at experience for Harbor City’s fashion elite by being slow-witted. “Isn’t this perfect?”
Devin prowled across the office, every step closer making the color rise in her olive-complected cheeks, but she didn’t give even an inch of ground. That fact excited him as much as the memory of her smooth skin under his tongue. “Don’t worry, boss, we’ll have this case solved before you know it.”
“We?” Ryder’s smooth alto tripped over the one syllable word.
“There’s millions of dollars in cash and hundreds of millions in stocks on the line if the deal falls through.” He stopped a few steps away from her, but close enough to peek into the deep V of her black linen blouse and notice the heated flush climbing up her cleavage. Looked like someone wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended. “There’s no way this happens without Dylan’s representation every step of the way.”
“Whatever you wish.” She’d recovered enough to sprinkle just the right amount of insincerity in her tone, relaying her feelings on the matter without being openly rude. “You’re the client.”
Devin had been told, subtly and not so subtly, to fuck off too many times to count, but this was the first time that his only response was a twitch behind his zipper.
Chapter Two
“Strong women wear their pain like stilettos. No matter how much it hurts, all you see is the beauty of it.”
— Harriet Morgan
Chocolate was medically necessary if Ryder was going to make it through the next twenty-four hours. Well, that and some girl time in the form of gossip at Coffee Grounds with her best friends Drea and Sylvie. Every Thursday morning, they’d meet up at nine to swap gossip and inhale the carb-loaded goodness coming out of the in-house bakery.
