She had saved the horse from seriously injuring—or even killing—himself in a professional, expert fashion, without putting herself at undue risk. After all, Neb could have punctured an artery on that shredded, knife-sharp ruined door, and she could very easily have been terribly hurt as well.

It was beautiful to see, actually.

And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

Joey, Moe’s son, was standing on the periphery and staring at Shelby with an expression on his face that suggested the twenty-something man had regressed to being a sixteen-year-old boy again … and Shelby was the prom queen he wanted to dance with.

Which was proof that we were always every age we had ever been.

And also not something Edward particularly appreciated. With a frown, he was struck by a nearly irresistible urge to put himself right between the pair of them. He wanted to be a billboard with HANDS OFF on it. A living, breathing caution tape. A foghorn of warning.

But the protective instinct was rooted in the concern of a big brother watching out for his little sister.

Sutton had reminded him, in the most basic of ways, that she would forever be the only woman for him.

Upstairs in whoever-the-hell-Bradford-ancestor’s bedroom, Jeff hit print and put his hand out in front of the Brother machine. The ink-jet made a rhythmic whirring sound, and moments later, a perfect line-up of numbers came out. And then another. And a final one.

There were tiny words on the three pages, too, explanations for line items, notations he had spent the last two hours typing out on a laptop.

The most significant thing on the sheet, however, was the title.

BRADFORD BOURBON COMPANY

OPERATIONAL DEFICIT SUMMARY

Jeff put the document down on the desk, right on the keyboard of the open laptop. Then he looked over the snow pile of papers, notes, account reports, tables, and charts on the antique desk.

He was done.

Finished.

At least with the part where he traced the rerouting of accounts receivable payments and operating capital.

On second thought … he picked up the report, and made sure he was logged out of the laptop. He’d changed his password. Encoded all his work. And only sent his private e-mail account an electronic copy.

Pulling out the flash drive he’d used from the USB port, he put the thing in the pocket of his slacks. Then he went over and sat at the foot of the messy bed. As he stared at the desk, he thought … yup, just like his office in Manhattan.

Where he worked for a corporation. Along with a thousand other human calculators, as Lane put it.

Across the way, his packed luggage was lined up by the door. He’d been fishing through it all for whatever he needed, knowing he wasn’t staying.

The damn things looked like they were mortally wounded and bleeding his clothes and toiletries.

At the knock on the door, he said, “Yup.”

Tiphanii walked in, and wow, her jeans were as tight as skin and her loose top was as low cut as a string bikini. With her hair down and her make-up done, she was youth and sex and excitement all in a naughty little package that she was happy to have on display for him.

“Congratulations,” she said as she shut the door and locked it. “And I’m glad you texted for me to come celebrate.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He moved back on the bed and nodded at the report. “I’ve been working non-stop. Feels weird not to have it hanging over me.”

“I snuck up the back stairs,” she said as she put her purse down.

“Is that a new Louis?” he drawled as he nodded to the thing.

“This?” She picked the printed LV satchel back up. “It is, actually. You have good taste. I love men from the city.”

“That is my home.”

Tiphanii’s lips went into a pout. “Does that mean you’re going to be leaving soon?”

“You going to miss me?”

She came over and stretched out on the bed next to him, rolling over onto her side and flashing her breasts. No bra. And she was clearly aroused already.

“Yes, I will miss you,” she said. “But maybe you can bring me up there to see you?”

“Maybe.”

Jeff started kissing her, and then he was getting her naked … and then he was getting naked. They had done this enough now so that he knew what she liked. Knew exactly what to do to get her off quickly. And he was turned on. It was hard not to be. Even though his eyes were wide open as to why she was here, what she wanted, and how exactly she was going to use him—he was good with currency exchanges and rates.

He was a banker, after all.

And after she spent the night? After she snuck out in the morning early to go put her uniform on and pretend that she hadn’t been in bed with him? After that, he was going to sit down with Lane and make his full report. And then he had a piece of business he needed to take care of.

As he mounted Tiphanii and she purred into his ear, he was still not sure what he was going to do about the equity offer. Lane had seemed serious, and Jeff knew the company inside and out now. There was risk involved, though. A possible federal investigation. And he’d never really managed anyone before.

It was a The Clash problem. Straight up.

Should I Stay or Should I Go …

THIRTY-FIVE

The Metro Police homicide detective showed up at nine a.m. the following morning. Lane was coming downstairs when he heard the brass knocker, and when he didn’t see Mr. Harris butlering along to answer the banging echo, he did the duty himself.

“Detective Merrimack. What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Baldwine. Do you have a moment?”

Merrimack was in the same uniform he’d been wearing the other day: dark slacks, white polo with the police crest, professional smile in place. He’d had his hair trimmed even tighter, and the aftershave was nice. Not too much.

Lane stepped aside and indicated the way in. “I was getting coffee. You want to join me?”

“I’m working.”

“I thought that was an issue for alcohol, not caffeine?”

Smile. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

“Here is fine. Considering you’ve turned down the Starbucks Morning Blend in my kitchen. So what do you need? My sister, Gin, is not an early bird, so if you want to talk with her, you better come back after noontime.”

Merrimack smiled. Again. “Actually, I was interested in your security cameras.” He nodded up at the discreet pods on the ceiling by the molding. “There are a lot of them around, aren’t there.”