John hadn’t seen her yet and she wanted to make sure he didn’t. She didn’t want him to smile and wave or otherwise draw attention to her.
“...investigated by the Bureau of Indian Affairs on suspicion of fraud...” The reporter’s words assaulted her ears as she got closer. Little did they know the BIA’s official investigator was trying to sneak past them wearing yesterday’s underwear, with John Fairweather’s DNA licked into its fabric.
John was talking now, looking directly at the reporter. She seized her chance to break for the door, avoiding his gaze as she strode across the lobby, heels clicking. Luckily the camera was facing the other way so she wouldn’t be caught on tape making her escape.
She burst out into blinding sunlight with her adrenaline pounding and fumbled for her car keys, desperate to escape before anyone saw her or tried to talk to her.
* * *
Back in her hotel room, after showering and washing away John’s passionate touch, Constance called the office. “Nicola Moore of the BIA called about six times for you,” Lynn whispered into the phone. “She’s getting hysterical. Where have you been? There’s been some kind of exposé article published about the New Dawn casino and she wants to know if it’s true.”
That would explain the TV reporter in the lobby. “What does it say?”
“The usual stuff, how they’ve grown too big too fast and it can’t be legit.”
“That’s hardly a news story.”
“There’s some stuff about his uncle. I forget the guy’s name but apparently he has a colorful past. Money laundering or something similar.”
Constance frowned. John’s uncle Don? She didn’t like the guy much. He gave off a sleazebag vibe. “Everything’s still checking out fine. They’re very profitable because there are people here throwing their money away twenty-four hours a day.”
“Are you sure you’re not blinded to iniquity by John Fairweather’s dazzling smile?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she retorted. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so snappy.” What a shame she couldn’t explain why she hadn’t gotten too much sleep last night. “I’m starting to get annoyed with all the negative opinions that keep cropping up, when I can’t find any justification for them. I can’t help but think people are just jealous and resent the tribe’s success. Why shouldn’t they have some prosperity for a change? They’ve been kicked around since the 1600s. It’s about time they got to enjoy life a bit. I don’t know why people get so upset that they’re making money.”
“Maybe because they don’t pay taxes on it?”
“Actually, they do pay some taxes. It was built into their agreements with the state. And they provide employment in an otherwise depressed area. I’ve totally revised my opinion of the place and I wish everyone else would do the same.”
“You sound very passionate.”
Passionate? What an odd choice of word. She’d certainly experienced passion last night. It dwarfed her most ambitious daydreams. “Nonsense. I’m entirely practical. I can’t see why it’s okay for corporations to make money hand over fist and interpret laws to meet their needs, but not tribes. This is America. We love money and profits. You and I wouldn’t have a job without them!”
Lynn laughed. “So true. Anyway, you’d better call Ms. Moore. She’s getting on my nerves.”
“Will do. Hopefully I’ll be home in a day or two.” A twinge of sadness shot through her. Once she left she probably wouldn’t ever see John again. Which would make last night’s tryst a one-night stand. Shame swept over her in a hot tide. She’d fallen so easily into his arms. Worse yet, she craved the feel of his arms around her right now. Of his hot kisses claiming her mouth, the powerful sensation of him moving inside her.
“Are you still there?” Lynn asked.
“Yes. Yes. Just going over some notes.” Now she was lying. What next? If anyone found out that she’d had an affair with the man whose business she was supposed to be investigating, she’d be fired. She’d probably lose her accreditation and would never be able to find another job in the field.
“They must be pretty interesting notes. And you’re missing some exciting happenings here at Creighton Waterman. Someone walked in on Lacey, the new trainee, getting up close and personal with Aaron Whitlow.”
“What?” Mr. Whitlow was the straitlaced senior executive who gave them their annual reviews. “He must be twice her age. Maybe even three times!”
“I know. Everyone is freaking out. Worse yet, the person who saw them was Leah, the head of personnel.”
“Did Lacey get fired?”
“She did. It makes me mad. Why does she have to leave? Why not him?”
“He’s in a position of power.”
“That’s hardly fair. She should file a sexual harassment lawsuit. But she didn’t want to. She said it was consensual. She was so upset, crying and red faced. I think she really cared about him.”
Constance swallowed. “It is odd that relationships at work are so taboo. That is where most of us spend our time, after all.”
“It’s because we’re supposed to behave like robots who only care about doing our jobs. Not actual people with feelings. Whitlow’s acting more robotic than ever, of course. Muttering orders under his breath, looking down his snooty nose at people. It does make me laugh to picture him fooling around with a much younger woman. Apparently she was sitting on his desk with her skirt up around her waist!”
“Yikes.” Constance wanted to cringe. Desire. The same thing that had lured her irresistibly into John’s encouraging arms. When examined in the cold light of day, it was embarrassing and inappropriate. What would Lynn—or anyone—say if they could have seen her last night, writhing with pleasure in John’s bed?
“The scandal has certainly livened things up around here, let me tell you. You’re missing all the fun.”
“You know I hate gossip.” She tried to stay out of the petty squabbles around the watercooler.
“I’ll certainly never see Whitlow in the same light again, that’s for sure.”
“Isn’t he a widower? Maybe he was lonely.” Great. Now she was defending a man who’d fooled around with a much younger employee. Of course as a transgressor herself, she could sympathize with him in a way she’d never have been able to imagine even a week ago.
Maybe this whole experience was part of her journey toward greater compassion and understanding. It was pretty humbling, all right. “I have another call coming in.”
“All right. Call Nicola Moore at the BIA before she comes down there looking for you.”
“Will do.” She hung up and grabbed the other call, adrenaline firing because she could see it was John.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Heat rose up from her chest. “Good morning yourself. I can’t believe you let me sleep in like that. I’m so embarrassed.”
“You looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to disturb you. I had to get up for a media interview.”
“I saw you doing it.” She didn’t want to say what she’d heard about the accusations against his uncle. It didn’t seem appropriate given their professional relationship. Still, she wanted to hear how he’d describe it. “What were they asking you about?”
He paused for a moment. “Nothing very interesting. The usual stuff.”
So he was going to hide