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“Yeah, I’ll be honest, it looks like someone added a bunch of zeros to some of the income and expense lines. None of the totals add up.”
“That can’t be right. They were fine when I printed them off this afternoon.” My brain is working overtime to try to figure out exactly what I did wrong. Could I have accidentally hit extra numbers when I was inputting the data? No, there’s no way. QuickBooks figures all of those out for me.
“Well, I’m looking at a quarterly income of fourteen million dollars, and an expense of eight hundred thousand.”
Holy. Shit. “What? That’s not right!”
“I figured as much,” he says with a chuckle. “We need to figure this out sooner rather than later, Payton.”
“I’ve got my laptop with me that has my accounting software on it. Are you at the office?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here.”
“I’m on my way.” I don’t say anymore before signing off.
Sitting in the parking lot, I’m stunned by the crazy phone call. I haven’t heard from Dean in weeks, but my body instantly reacts to his voice the way it did all those months ago last fall. How in the world did my numbers come out so high? Fourteen million in income? I freaking wish! Unless those flowers are tipped in real gold, that would be a hell of a lot of blooms leaving my store in the fourth quarter. Yes, we had a great three months with Thanksgiving and Christmas, but not anywhere near a million dollars, let alone fourteen.
“What in the hell is going on?” I ask, throwing my car in reverse and carefully pulling out of my parking space. Mine’s the only car left in the lot at six-thirty at night.
I drive in silence towards Corbin and Denton. Their office is located at the far north side of Jupiter Bay in a newer complex that houses a dental and a physician’s office. Considering that it’s after five, the lights in the offices are off.
The front door is unlocked as I make my way towards the stairs. The accounting office is located on the second floor of the building, along with one for a small attorney’s practice. I find myself practically sprinting up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the top. The door directly to my right catches my attention. It’s the only one with light filtering through the glass.
Eager to figure out what’s going on, I try the door. It’s unlocked. I’m greeted by the sight of Dean McIntire, casually leaning against the tall receptionist counter. His light brown hair is slightly askew, as if he’s recently ran his hands through it. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark wired glasses, but I can feel them on me nonetheless. My body temperature rises about ten degrees in the span of three seconds. It’s crazy, the way my body reacts to his presence. It was like that the first time he walked into the office and introduced himself as my new accountant.
“Hi,” I croak through a dry throat.
He doesn’t say a word, but I feel his eyes devour me from head to toe, leaving no part of me untouched by his gaze. I’m sure he can see my heart leaping in my chest and the way my body involuntarily sways in his direction. It’s a natural reaction, as normal as breathing.
“Hi.” Dean pushes off the desk where he’s perched and stalks towards me. Yes, stalks. That’s the only way to describe his movement. It’s fluid and dangerous and makes my panties wetter with each step he takes towards me.
Goose bumps rise on my heated flesh as he stands directly before me, close enough that I could wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. If I wanted to, that is. Which I don’t. (This is where my pants would catch fire.) Dean leans forward, his arm skimming across my upper arm. Even through my coat, I can feel the heat of his flesh. I’m just about to ask what he’s doing when he flips the lock on the door. The sound of it engaging echoes throughout the empty office. It reminds me of the slamming of prison doors, except being locked in a room with Dean McIntire is nothing like prison. It’s more like a fantasy.
“You okay?” he whispers, his warm breath caressing my cheek.
“Yes.” My voice is hoarse and doesn’t even sound like my own.
“Are you sure? I’m not sure you’re breathing right now.” He raises that uber sexy eyebrow and gives me a half smirk. His eyes, hidden behind glasses, are smoldering and his lips plump, perfect for kissing. I’ve thought of that look several times over the last few months, especially when I was alone in my bed.
“Fine.” I croak. Seriously, whose voice is that?
“Good,” he says with the slightest rise of the corner of his lip. “Let’s go to my office and figure this out.”
He steps aside, waiting for me to take the lead. I know where his office is located; I’ve been there a few times since he took over my account last spring. What I wasn’t expecting was the warm hand on my lower back as we walk down the hallway. Since it’s a smaller office with only four accountants, we find ourselves at his open office door before I’m ready. Yet, I’m pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t remove his hand from the small of my back. Wait. No, I want him to remove it. Don’t I?
Aww, hell. I’m so screwed. Figuratively speaking, that is. Because I’m definitely not being screwed right now, as much as I wouldn’t mind feeling the coarseness of his legs rubbing against my thighs.
Pay-ton. Get a grip, geez.
Dean leads me towards a small table and chairs in the corner of his office. I notice the envelope and subsequent paperwork sitting neatly in the middle of the round table. He pulls out a chair, still keeping his hand on my lower back. Shudders of pleasure ripple through my taut body. The sudden desire to hop on the tabletop and spread my legs is overwhelming. Images of our tryst in my own business parade through my mind like some X-rated movie.
“You okay?” he asks, his eyes scanning me, clearly amused by my suddenly flushed face.
“Fine. What did you find?” I ask, clearing my throat as I slip out of my jacket and getting down to business.
“This,” he says, taking a seat beside me and reaching for the stack of papers. I notice right away that with him beside me, I catch faint whiffs of his cologne. It’s rich and intoxicating, and I involuntarily find myself leaning towards him. Again.
The papers he slides in front of me pull my attention. Instantly, I see what his phone call was referring to. It wasn’t me accidentally hitting extra buttons when inputting the information. This error is definitely human made, but more particularly, a certain human. I can tell by the way the extra zeros added to a few lines are shaky and hurried. What the hell?
