Her Secret Alibi. Debra WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.
Jolie’s and Mark Boyer’s activities at work would be much easier from the inside. The contact he’d had with Jolie so far would keep her off balance. Simon needed her unsure of herself. Boyer was slick, and tripping him up wouldn’t be easy. But Jolie was vulnerable. Simon had no choice but to work this investigation from the most accessible angle. He had to turn up the heat and intensify the pressure until she snapped. Time was of the essence. The feds wouldn’t be put off much longer. They wanted answers.
The memory of the way Jolie had looked at him in the bank today when she’d hesitated at the top of the stairs, as if she had remembered something or recognized him, seeped into his thoughts. Simon’s response was immediate and savage. That connection had been real, at least on some level. He had felt it too strongly to believe otherwise. And tonight, there had been something…some sort of mental as well as physical connection.
If he couldn’t maintain his objectivity where Jolie was concerned, Simon would have to reconsider his strategy. Maybe even turn over her after-hours surveillance to another investigator at the Colby Agency. Simon had already taken a risk by not telling Victoria that this case hit far too close to home, was personal to him on more than one level. She wouldn’t like it if she discovered his omission. He would simply have to deal with her disappointment and irritation when the time came. All that mattered to him at the moment was bringing down Brasco. If Simon had to call in backup to prevent getting in too deep with Jolie, then he would. That would keep him on track and out of trouble.
But he had a feeling that no force on earth could keep him from wanting Jolie.
Chapter Three
By early afternoon on Tuesday Jolie breathed her first real sigh of relief. She had corrected each account discrepancy, and then carefully covered the original erroneous transaction with a side note alluding to an investment maneuver. Though she hated the dirty way it made her feel, at least no one would ever have to know that the money had been missing. Jolie refused to consider that her actions were much like those of someone in denial.
Just like her mother.
Not today, she told herself firmly. Today she wasn’t going to think about that.
Jolie shuffled through her messages, prioritizing them as she went. Most of her regular work had gone by the wayside this morning. Now she would spend the afternoon playing catch-up. Simon’s handsome face suddenly filled her mind’s eye. Heat flared inside her at the memory of his gentle touch. He had listened with such complete understanding as she’d rambled on and on about how screwed up life could get sometimes. Though she hadn’t actually told him anything that had happened, she’d talked all around it, and he’d listened. She had felt so much better by the end of the night that Jolie was certain Mr. Ruhl must be a psychologist or counselor of some sort. She’d completely forgotten to pursue the issue of why he’d been at her bank talking to the president. She supposed he was just another customer.
She smiled. A very nice customer.
And definitely the best looking man she had ever seen. Remembering the sweet way he had kissed her cheek sent a shimmer of desire through her. Now that kiss was one for the record books. He had given of himself and his time all evening, and expected nothing in return. Just a simple peck on the cheek. Heat swirled beneath Jolie’s belly button. Well, perhaps that wasn’t quite an accurate description of Simon’s brief kiss. There had been a definite fire kindling between them, but he had held back because she was uncertain, and she felt truly grateful. If Simon had taken advantage of her, she would have fallen apart. Vulnerable was apparently her new watchword.
She still hadn’t been able to reach Erica to ask about the missing hours Sunday night. Jolie forced away the knot of emotions that accompanied the memory of waking up in a strange bed. She would not think about that until she could question Erica and more accurately analyze what had taken place that evening. Besides, she rationalized, she’d had her hands full this morning with straightening out her accounts. There was nothing she could do about her strange behavior Sunday night. It was done. She just had to make sure it never happened again. The fact that she had dined with another stranger last night, had even allowed him to walk her to her car, disturbed her, but not nearly as much as it should.
Why did her life feel suddenly so out of control?
“Knock, knock, madam vice president.”
Jolie looked up to find Mark Boyer loitering in her doorway. She could have done without a visit from him today. But he was here, and to tell him to jump out the nearest window, as she would have liked to do, would be rude and unprofessional.
“Good afternoon, Mark,” Jolie said in her most chipper tone. “What can I do for you today?”
Mark plopped into a chair facing Jolie’s desk. “Actually, I wanted to do something for you,” he suggested in that patronizing voice that made her want to cringe.
Jolie folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. This should be interesting, she decided. “And what would that be?” Mark Boyer never did anything unless it would somehow prove to be to his own personal benefit.
He pulled a concerned face. “I’m worried about you, Jolie,” he said with what appeared to be complete sincerity. She knew better. “You don’t look well. I think you need a break. Take a few days off. I’ll cover for you.”
Anger flared so fast that she barely kept herself from lashing out at him. Calm, Jolie, she chastised herself. This is business. You can’t go biting off the heads of co-workers. Mr. Knox wouldn’t like it.
“Thank you for your concern, Mark,” she said evenly, then smiled weakly. “But I’m fine.”
He splayed his hands. “Don’t try to fool me, Jolie. I’ve known you too long. You’re not fine.” He shook his head and made a negative sound in the back of his throat. “Not by a long shot.” He smiled suddenly, as if some realization had dawned. “Why don’t you take a little vacation?” His tawny brows formed a perfect V above his calculating eyes. “Didn’t you spend a couple of days in the Caymans two or three months ago?”
Jolie’s heart almost stopped. A chill sank clear through to her bones. She blinked rapidly to mask the fear in her eyes. “I said I’m fine, Mark,” she repeated firmly. “I don’t need a vacation.”
He looked taken aback. “Well, you don’t have to get testy about it, Jolie. It was merely a suggestion.”
She stared at him coolly. “I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. Now—” she turned to the reports scattered on her desk “—if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” She glanced up once more. “And I’m expecting a client,” she added by way of dismissal.
He stood, then shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he remarked casually. “Burnout happens all the time in high-pressure positions. Just ask your father.”
Seething at his comment, Jolie didn’t bother to respond, but shot a cross look in his direction. Her father hadn’t burned out, he’d simply chosen to retire early. Even a decade after her mother’s death they had both struggled with the memory and heartache. How could Mark throw that painful past in her face?
It was hard to believe that she had once considered him a nice guy. They had worked together for two years. Together they had made quite a name for themselves in the investment department. The “golden ones,” that’s what they had been called. She and Mark had made a great team. Both were young, with him only a couple of years older than herself, and equally ambitious. Both had blond hair; she supposed that was where the golden part came in. And though she and Mark had never been friends in the true sense of the word, they had maintained a good working relationship.
But Jolie’s promotion had changed all that. Everyone had expected him to get it instead. He was a man, after all, and he did have a few months seniority on her.
But she had gotten the promotion.
And he hadn’t forgiven her yet. Had even made remarks behind her back that it was only because her father had once been president