Take the Heat

“Not my problem.” He spun in his chair, his back to her as he picked up his phone. “Get out.”

“I’ll pack my things, sir,” she murmured, eying the ruin of her blouse lying on his desk.

How was she going to walk back out there like this? At least she could pack up fast and run out.

“You aren’t packing a thing. Get back to work—but not on your usual accounts.” He looked back at her, his eyes blazing. “I’ll have Karen send over your new assignments.”

“Sir? You’re not…firing me?”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Ms. Hart. How would I keep an eye on you if I canned you? Stop stalling and go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Time seemed to have slowed, the strange morning getting stranger by the second. She hurried for the exit.

“Ms. Hart?”

She looked back, her hand on the silver door handle.

The gold pen flashed in the light as he wrote something on the back of the business card, then slid it across the desk toward her.

“Take it.”

The card shook as she read it. It was an address, somewhere over in the Ravenna area. Affluent, exclusive.

“What’s this, sir?”

“The first day of your obligation. Tomorrow afternoon. One o’clock.”

* * *

Standing on his front steps, two huge evergreen trees soaring above her, she felt as if the entire city watched her, knew what she was up to. Which was ironic because she didn’t even know what she was up to.

A car pulled to the curb behind her, the engine shutting off. Heavy steps sounded on the wooden stairs behind her; then she caught the faint, familiar sandalwood scent of Will’s cologne. She dared not look at him.

His hand extended around her to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open.

“Inside. Don’t touch anything.”

Nodding, she stepped into the house, the interior all dark woodwork, immaculate.

The door closed behind her, the dead bolt thrown. Final.

“Down the hall. My office. First door on the right.”

She felt him following close behind, her heart jackhammering faster with each step into the house.

Turn around and leave, Alyson. Go to the goddamned police. This is blackmail. This is illegal.

But so was embezzling. She’d see this through—it was her only choice, and they both knew it.

The office was small, intimate, the stout oak desk filling most of the space, three of the walls dominated by floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books.

“Drop your jeans, and bend over the desk,” he said, depositing his keys on the desktop and pulling open a long drawer. The pale length of cane he drew out made her heart leap into her throat.

“You’re not going to…?”

“Oh yes, I am—unless you’re backing out.” His hand rested on the phone next to the computer monitor on the desk.