Debra Webb - Her Secret Alibi

But he had a feeling that no force on earth could keep him from wanting Jolie.

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 and the board had respected his reputation.

When Jolie’s anger receded all that was left was panic. He had said she’d taken a trip to the Caymans. That couldn’t be. She hadn’t gone anywhere this year. Fear crept into her racing heart. But why would he say it if it weren’t true? What did he have to gain by lying? It wasn’t as if she couldn’t verify whether she had taken a trip or not.

She just didn’t remember taking one.

Her mother had disappeared for days at a time that last year of her life. She would return with no memory of where she had been or what she had done. Jolie’s lower lip trembled with the emotion swelling inside her. And then, finally, when her mother could bear it no longer, she had ended her misery.

That wouldn’t happen to Jolie. There had to be another explanation.

“Jolie, I’m glad you’re in,” Mr. Knox announced from her door.

Jolie snapped to attention, automatically standing to greet the bank’s president. She manufactured a smile. “Good afternoon, sir.” She racked her brain to recall if they had an appointment. Surely Renae would have reminded her. Jolie felt weak with worry. Maybe Renae had reminded her and she had forgotten the meeting, anyway.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything that can’t wait,” Mr. Knox said as he gestured for someone to enter ahead of him.

Jolie waited expectantly for the mystery guest to step around Mr. Knox and into her office, but when he did she wasn’t prepared.

Simon Ruhl.

“Hello, Miss Randolph,” he said in that low, velvety voice as he approached her desk and thrust one square hand in her direction.

Confusion reigned supreme. Jolie stood there, stunned, for one long, awkward moment.

“Miss Randolph, this is Simon Ruhl,” Mr. Knox explained. “The bank has contracted his firm to conduct an informal audit just to make sure we’re ready for the real thing next month.”

“Hello,” she managed to murmur. She placed her hand in his, and those long fingers curled around hers, sending heat straight to her center. He held on a beat longer than was proper. Jolie could feel the strength radiating from him, a strength obviously tempered in his gentle touch. Those dark eyes held her in a sort of sensual trance. She shoved the foolish reaction aside.

“Simon has assured me that we won’t even know he’s here.” Mr. Knox chuckled. “That may be a bit optimistic, but I’m sure he’ll manage without getting in anyone’s way.”

Simon’s reassuring smile was pure charm. “Trust me, Mr. Knox, First International’s board of directors would never have hired me had they not had complete faith in my ability to conduct this audit with little or no disruption in the bank’s status quo.”

Mr. Knox crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Of course,” he agreed. “I certainly want to facilitate your effort to that end, so I’ve decided to have Miss Randolph be the liaison between you and the bank’s staff.”

Jolie felt the color drain from her face. She couldn’t do this. This man knew too much about her already. Though she had revealed nothing earth-shattering, she had allowed herself to be far too open with him. He read her too easily. He made her feel things she shouldn’t feel. How could they start over with that kiss between them?

Jolie turned to Mr. Knox, praying that she could change his mind. “To be honest, Mr. Knox, I believe Mark would be a much better liaison,” she said, as calmly as possible with her heart racing for some unseen finish line.

Mr. Knox seemed to consider her suggestion for a moment. Jolie didn’t dare look at Simon. If she looked, she would only get trapped in that rich coffee-colored gaze again.

The bank president tapped his cheek thoughtfully. “Mark would be a wise choice, as well,” he said noncommittally. He looked from Jolie to Simon.

“Actually,” Simon said, drawing Jolie’s reluctant attention back to him, “I’ve heard so much about Miss Randolph’s stellar reputation, I was really hoping to have a chance to work with her.” Something remotely akin to amusement flickered in his challenging gaze.

“The board is very proud of Miss Randolph,” Mr. Knox interjected quickly. “But you’ll find her a tad shy of the limelight.”

Simon’s smile was triumphant. “I’m sure we’ll work quite well together.”

Mr. Knox clapped him on the back. “Excellent. Well…” he turned to Jolie “…I’ll leave Simon in your capable hands, Miss Randolph.”

Jolie nodded, unable to marshal a verbal response. She waited until Mr. Knox had closed her door behind him before she turned back to Simon.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, irritation overriding all else at the moment.

In a blatant act of intimidation, Simon allowed his gaze to roam down her body, then slowly back up to her face. Her fists clenched at her sides. Every nerve ending stood at attention—whether from anger or awareness, Jolie couldn’t quite determine. Simon slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers and studied her until he had satisfied whatever motivated his arrogant behavior. This was a side she hadn’t seen last night. Maybe this man wasn’t all she’d thought he was.