He handed her the folded sticky note with a half-dozen luxury resorts listed, along with highly placed individuals within those properties. Although a handful of names were still legible, only one resort wasn’t crossed out.
“The Marquis.” She knew the property well. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
Returning the paper to him, she took a step back in every way possible. He might as well have indicated a nest of rattlesnakes.
“Why do you say that?” He frowned, looking at the paper again.
“You haven’t done much homework for a guy who’s been on the case for two months, have you?” She thought about pouring herself another sip or two of champagne, then figured she’d be better off just finding the damn screwdriver so he could take his camera and go.
She slid out from behind the coffee table to hunt through her desk.
“On the contrary, I’ve worked my ass off. White-collar crimes like this can be filtered through so many different accounts electronically that it makes it damn difficult to trace.” He followed her to the desk, sidestepping a few items on the floor from when she’d cleared the shelves in a frightened fury. “After hiring a forensic accountant, I spent most of my time investigating you since, on first look, the money appeared to have been leaking wherever you traveled last year.”
Her frantic culling through pens and paperclips paused.
“You think someone wanted it to look like I was responsible?” A new fear gripped her, superceding her outrage at being secretly videotaped.
“Yes. And when you opened this business, I wondered if you’d just found a new way to skim money from the same properties you worked with at Premiere since you continued to book trips to a lot of the same resorts.”
“Because they’re great destinations and I know them inside and out.”
“Including the Marquis?”
Slamming the door shut with her knee, she rubbed her temple where a stress headache wanted to take root.
“No. That one isn’t really—” Sighing, she began again. “It’s a unique place. Well off the beaten path just outside of scenic Saratoga, New York. Strictly for adults.”
“It didn’t come up in my early searches, but I just figured it was one of those high-end places that doesn’t advertise.”
“It is.” Just thinking about the things she’d seen there the last time she visited made heat crawl up her cheeks and take up residence. “Technically, Premiere doesn’t own it, but they are a partner of the eccentric owner and they take care of the food service and a few other basics. It’s a complicated relationship and it’s important that it remains under the radar since the guests are guaranteed a highly—” she cleared her throat “—sensual experience.”
Was it just her, or was sex coming to mind way too much during this conversation? While she’d like to believe it was just the buzz of good champagne in her veins that made her feel so pleasurably warm inside, she knew it had more to do with Jake Brennan being in the room with her. He would make any woman take notice.
“Sounds like the perfect place to hide an embezzlement crime.” His jaw flexed, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, fitting this new piece of evidence into the puzzle.
“Actually, precious little is hidden in the rooms of the Marquis.” She studiously avoided looking at him while thinking about what went on in that private resort. Her eyes locked on the screwdriver in a silver cup holder on her desk. “Here.”
She passed him the tool and eased past him to clear a path to the bookcase so he could take his equipment—and his questions—and go.
He took the screwdriver, following more slowly.
“It also sounds like the perfect place to lose yourself.”
“Excuse me?” She pulled the belt tighter on her bathrobe.
No matter that she wore a tank top and comfy pair of girly boxer shorts underneath it. The more layers the better during a conversation about a sex-drenched playground with a droolworthy stud who’d not only seen her mostly naked, and seemed to enjoy the view.
Ah, who was she kidding? She was enjoying checking him out just as much. Too bad he had already pulled a fast one on her or she might have considered acting on the sizzling connection between them.
“I want to avail myself of your services through Lose Yourself. I need you to book me a trip to this place as soon as possible.”
The image that presented—Jake Brennan stalking the secret lairs of the sexually adventurous—gave her heart palpitations. And, oddly, inspired a ridiculous surge of jealousy for all the women who would dole out their best tricks to attract his notice.
“No.” She folded her arms. Shook her head. “You don’t want to go there. There’s a strict policy about hidden cameras anyway. Definitely not your kind of place.”
“Don’t you want to find out who tried to pin about ten different federal crimes on you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. That’s why you’re going with me.”
3
“FORGET IT.”
Marnie wrenched the screwdriver out of his hand and turned toward the display case that held his camera as if to remove it by herself.
“I need you there.” He slid his arm between her and the bookcase to stop her. The fact that his knuckles brushed against her flat stomach and his shoulder rubbed along hers was a pleasurable bonus.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped back, her face flushed and her pulse twitching visibly at the base of her throat.
Agitated because of his touch? Or his proposition?
He couldn’t deny a bit of agitation of his own at the thought of spending time with her at some trumped-up luxury love shack. While he’d had every intention of getting close to her sooner or later, he hadn’t intended for the circumstances to be quite so intense.
But then, he hadn’t considered what an asset she’d be in an investigation at a hyperexclusive resort. She knew the place. And if the real embezzler had set Marnie up to take the fall for the crime, she might be able to finger the enemy faster than he could on his own.
“You said it yourself.” Sliding the screwdriver from her grip, he set it aside, not needing it to free his surveillance equipment. “You visited dozens of properties all over the globe for Premiere, so you know these resorts well. You’ve been to the Marquis and you’ve dealt with the people who work there. Why let the trail turn even colder while I waste time trying to get the lay of the land when you know the place inside and out?”
She gaped at him as if he’d just suggested she sign on for a suicide mission. Was the thought of spending a few days with him that bad? He forced his attention to the camera equipment as he extracted a tiny wireless transmitter.
“Even if I wanted to do that—and I don’t—I can’t just take off at the drop of a hat. I have a business to run.” She held out her hand to take the transmitter from him while he pried out the camera itself.
“Everyone deserves a getaway,” he parroted back her business’s pitch line, knowing he was onto something. He had to convince her to do this—and not just because he wanted to get to know her better. Her input could be the key. “Besides, maybe you can’t afford not to go.”
Straightening, he tucked the small camera in his back pocket, then took the transmitter from her and did the same.
“What do you mean?” Frowning and distracted, she didn’t seem to notice when he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around so they could converse somewhere besides the narrow space in front of the shelves.
How easy would it be to slide his hands lower, to graze her chest just above the rise of her breasts? The fragrance of her temptress perfume wafted along his senses as he guided her toward the desk.
With more than a little regret, he released her.
For now.
“Someone went to considerable effort to make it appear as though you were behind a highly lucrative crime. That suggests you’ve got an enemy you don’t know about. What if this enemy raises the stakes next time?”
Her gray eyes searched his and he could see the moment she wondered if he could be the guilty party.