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“It will be. But as far as I can tell, it’s the way I can make the most money the fastest.”

“That’s one expensive mother.”

The ice came back into her eyes. “I have other ambitions beyond the financial sinkhole that is my mother.”

He took his cue from her tone. That would be the end of this line of questioning. All right, so she seemed perfect for the job. And more importantly, he felt like he could trust her. Jack might not be a numbers guy, but he hadn’t become a self-made multimillionaire without being able to read people. Well, most people—apparently he’d been deluding himself for decades about Carl.

“I want to hire you.”

She looked like he’d shoved a lemon in her mouth.

“I need some…math help,” he added.

“What kind of math help?”

He raked his hands through his hair as the familiar rage started to swirl in his gut. Fucking Carl. Even promising himself that Carl was going down didn’t calm the fury. Probably because he was equally angry at himself for getting played. It felt like a personal failing. It was a personal failing. “My CFO—my longtime CFO—is ripping me off.”

Her mouth rounded in surprise.

“Yeah. That’s why I came into the bar that first night I met you. He and I had a longstanding Tuesday night dinner tradition. We’d go over numbers, talk about upcoming projects. But that was before I found out he was defrauding me.”

She whistled. “Hard to eat dinner with someone who’s been stealing from you, I guess. How much are we talking about?”

“I don’t know yet—I’m afraid it could be in the range of hundreds of thousands.” Fuck, it rankled to say it out loud. “I also don’t know how long it’s been going on. Years, maybe.”

“You don’t need me. You need cops or forensic accountants or something.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “I know. And believe me, I will be nailing this guy’s ass to the wall. But that’s not what I need you for—that’s just the context. I have a big deal in the works—a potential purchase of this company called Wexler Construction. I’ve been working on this for more than a year.”

“Is this a hostile takeover? Like in the movies?”

Damn, she was cute, her legs tucked up under her, curled into her chair.

“No. It’s a private company, so it’s all about convincing Wexler—Wexler Senior, who’s about to retire, to sell to me instead of handing the reins over to Wexler Junior, otherwise known as the Idiot Son.”

“Why do you want this company?”

The question took him aback. It was a good question. But not the kind a business insider would ever ask. Why did anyone want any company? “Most of the company’s assets I’ll probably sell. But Wexler owns a lot of potentially useful land, stuff he hasn’t sold or developed yet—including a private island in Lake Muskoka,” he said, speaking slowly as he thought about how to explain it. “I bought up some property on the shoreline nearby years ago. I want to open a resort, and I’ve been waiting for an island just like his to come up.”

“You can’t open your resort on the shore?”

“I could. But a private island has a certain cachet. We’ll ferry people over. It’s a big island, so there’ll be hiking, fishing, swimming, fine dining, the whole deal. But tucked away on an island, away from it all—literally.”

He was about to tell her that he was going to develop luxury condos on the shoreline, when she got a distinctly dreamy look on her face and said, “I bet you can see a lot of stars from this island.”

“Uh, yeah, I bet you can.”

“You could have stargazing parties.”

The idea of the wealthy guests he planned to woo signing up for stargazing parties was a little comical but, hey, at least she was getting into the idea. “I could. Anyway, the point is, I’ve been cultivating Wexler forever. We have a weekend of meetings coming up—I think he’s close to deciding—and I have no CFO.”

“And you want me to pose as your CFO!” She let loose a great big peal of laughter, throwing her head back and exposing her throat. For some reason the sight of her like that went straight to his dick. He crossed his legs. When she got control of herself and took in his non-answer, she jerked upright, “Holy ravioli, you do want me to pose as your CFO!”

“No, but I need someone to come. Someone with a head for the financials. Wexler is going to want to talk details.”

“Surely, if you’ve been working on this deal for so long, you can handle it without your in-house white collar criminal by your side?”

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