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He grabbed a folding chair from the stack in the corner, flipped it open, turned it around, and straddled it in a matter of seconds.
Whoa. He didnotseem like the sit backward in a folding chair type.
But now his thick forearms were draped over the back of it, and his eyes were dark and serious.
“Parker.” His voice was deep and gravelly, and I really hated the way my body naturally leaned forward in response.
“I want to hire you. I—well, my family—we need your help.”
I sighed. Today had already been a shit show. And here I was, wearing my coffee and distracted by the light dusting of dark hair on his tanned forearms. Those were the forearms of a working man, not an entitled number cruncher like this dude. And the expensive dress shirt with its sleeves rolled perfectly to the elbow and the crisp white fabric highlighting his golden skin didn’t help either.
“Not interested,” I said, picking up a stack of papers on my desk in an effort to look busy. “First of all, my business is here, in Portland. I can’t drop everything and head up to East Bumfuck.” I piled things neatly, actively avoiding his steady gaze. “And second, I’m not going to work for an entitled asshole I actively dislike.”
He let out a deep chuckle. “Aw. And all this time I thought you hated me.”
I pinned him with a glare.Dammit. Twin dimples teased me from beneath the thick stubble. “Nah, that takes too much energy. All I can muster up for you is moderate irritation and mild disdain.”
“I’m wounded.”
“You should be. Get the fuck out of my office. I’m trying to build a business here.”
And Iwasbuilding a business. It wasn’t the business I’d hoped for, but it was mine.
“Huh.” He steepled his fingers on the back of the damn chair. “Catching cheating husbands? Tracking down deadbeat dads? Running background checks? Is that the kind of work you live and breathe for?”
Ass. We couldn’t all be finance douches with MBAs and Beamers. Maybe my job wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest work, and I was helping people. Most of the time.
“Fuck off. I’ve got things to do.”
But the jerk didn’t budge. He stayed planted in that chair, looking all rich and powerful and handsome. After the shit hit the fan, he lost his job, but that was all I knew. Clearly, he’d landed on his feet if he was sitting in my office wearing those fancy shoes.
I had met many versions of this guy over the years. Conducting financial investigations usually meant coming face to face with privileged rich dudes who believed it was their right to lie, cheat, and steal their way through life. Whose families and prep schools and country clubs insulated them from the consequences of their actions.
“Please. After everything that happened, you owe me.”
I scoffed and balled my fists at my sides. I wasn’t huge, but I was strong as fuck and had spent years training. I could have him pinned to the floor and crying for his mama in seconds. And part of me really enjoyed the thought of that scenario. I’d have to unpack that later.
“Puh-lease. I don’t owe you shit. If anything, you owe me. If you hadn’t fucked up my investigation, I wouldn’t have left the state police.”
“You left. I got fired. Big difference. My entire career? Down the drain. My name is mud in the private equity world now.”
“Oh no, what will you do? The other privileged frat bros don’t want you to play in their tequila and roofie-laced sandbox? They’ll make deals and move money around to evade taxes without you?” I teased. “Get me a tissue. I can barely contain my empathetic sobs.”
“I forgot how mouthy you are,” he growled.
My thighs involuntarily clenched at the sound. Dammit.
“Please don’t make that sound sexy. You repulse me,” I said, pressing my arms tighter to my chest to conceal the nipples that were trying to escape my fanciest bra.
He ran his hands through his hair, and for half a second, the façade fell. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, the gray hairs at his temples highlighted by the overhead lights, and the slump shoulders heavier.
“Please listen for one minute. And then I’ll leave.”
I nodded. Rolling my lips in frustration.
“My father died two years ago.”
Okay, this time my empathy really did kick in. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
