Above Temptation Read online

  Sterling started to put her hand in her jacket but Kip quickly added, “Hold the jacket out from your side and reach in with two fingers.”

  A dull flush climbed slowly up Sterling’s throat. “I realize how this looks,” she said. She slowly and carefully removed the papers and then held them out.

  Kip waited for her to say more. But instead of protestations of innocence and fumbling explanations, she said, “I’m starved. Why don’t you update me over dinner?”

  Kip couldn’t hold back a laugh of disbelief. “Do you really think I don’t deserve an explanation of why you’re here?”

  The flush that had seemed to mark Sterling’s guilt faded. Her mouth twitched to one side. “I know a restaurant that serves crow. Isn’t that what bosses who don’t believe anyone will do the job as well as themselves should eat?”

  Kip thought she was making too light of what was a serious matter. But she’d humor her and see if she slipped up. The need to study Sterling as a suspect was her only motivation for a light tone and smile. “Do you like your crow baked or boiled?”

  “Southern-fried, with Tabasco. Shall we?” She indicated the door.

  “Give me a few minutes to get what I came in for.”

  Kip quickly photocopied the reconciled bank statements she wanted and slipped them into her windcheater’s inner pocket, alongside the papers Tamara had given up. Ninety seconds with a high-capacity disk in the PC connected to the mainframe gained her the cash general ledger. She knew it was encrypted, but she had a few guesses as to how she could read the data anyway. She preceded Sterling out of the area and into the elevator. “An interim note to my client,” she said quietly. She tapped the disk in her pocket. “This was too easy for me to do. I expected to be locked out.”

  “You’re right. When this is over, I’ll order an overhaul of our internal security. Maybe that’s been tampered with. Now let’s get out of here before someone sees us here—and together.”

  * * *

  Tam’s thoughts were in a whirl. Coming here and searching through the files after she’d turned the job over to Kip had been stupid. She was too tired and too hungry because her brain didn’t seem to want to work. Now the most important thing in the world seemed to be getting out of the building together without being seen. No matter who saw them it would start gossip, and gossip would reach the ears of their embezzler.

  Just as she relaxed, the elevator stopped two floors down—another SFI floor. She heard Kip mutter a four-letter word. Acting purely on impulse, she seized Kip, forced her into the corner and inclined her back as if they were in the throes of passion. It was a cheap, desperate move.

  Kip fought her for a moment, then stiffened as the doors opened. Tam ran her hands over the faded sweatshirt, momentarily surprised at the well-developed muscles her fingertips encountered, muscles that yielded to softness at her ribs. She did her best to engulf Kip completely, hiding her from view. Better someone should think the boss was having a torrid affair than guess the truth. And she was pretty sure Kip couldn’t be recognized from this angle.

  She heard the shuffle of papers and someone’s quick intake of breath, but not the sounds of someone entering the elevator yet. For good measure, she pressed her lips to Kip’s.

  A sardonic voice said, “I guess I’ll catch the next one.”

  Damn, it sounded like Ted. But the elevator doors closed again and she and Kip were still alone.

  About to voice an apology, she let go of Kip so she could check the floor indicator as they descended. She turned back to Kip. “That was a close—”

  * * *

  For the forty or fiftieth time, Kip said, “I’m sorry. It was pure instinct. For a minute I couldn’t breathe—it felt like you intended to smother me.”

  “Forget about it,” Tam’s voice was muffled by the ice bag Kip had produced from her medicine cabinet and filled with cubes. The ibuprofen tablets she’d given her had not kicked in yet. “I should have known better.”

  “I suppose it was quick thinking.” It sounded like a reluctant admission to Tam.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Saved by the bell,” Kip muttered.

  She came back into the kitchen carrying a bag of something that smelled delectable. In spite of the raging pain in her face, Tam’s stomach growled.

  “I must be alive. I’m still hungry.”

  “Just keep the ice on it and chew on the right side of your mouth.”

  Egg rolls had never tasted so good. Tamara munched gingerly on one, then said, “I didn’t realize you were a southpaw.”

  “I’m not,” Kip said. “That was just my left jab.”

  Damn her, but she sounded more than a little smug. She had seemed genuinely sorry that she’d nearly KO’d her. Now Tam wasn’t so sure. “Don’t do me any favors,” she muttered.

  Kip paused with her chopsticks sunk into one of the containers. “Would you like a plate? Living alone has given me horrible manners.”

  In spite of what felt like a broken jaw, she managed a smile. So Kip did live alone. “I thought the point of takeout was no dishes.”

  Kip extracted a water chestnut from the container and popped it into her mouth. After chewing thoughtfully, she said, “Well, we’re in agreement on two things, then.”

  She frowned. It made her cheek ache more. “What?”

  “Not doing extra dishes and—” she enunciated very clearly, “It’s really stupid for the client to try to help the professional she’s hired to do a job.”

  Tam winced. If she’d stayed home and caught up on her sleep she’d still have use of her right eye. “Actually, it’s three things we agree on.”

  “What’s the third?”

  “It’s really stupid to grab a woman in an elevator.” The memory of Kip’s body and the moments their lips had been pressed together had thankfully faded behind the throb of her eye.

  Kip stopped in mid-crunch of a stir-fried string bean, then cleared her throat. She swallowed, then sipped some tea. “Well, if you’re unhappy with me now, wait until you hear my report,” she told her quietly.

  “Give me the worst.” She braced herself.

  “I went to the office to check on a couple more bank statements, but I’m pretty sure the total is six point eight million. Five point three million and change is from the pension accounts, the rest from operating accounts. The good news is that I think the trust accounts are fine. It’s just SFI money. But there are nearly twenty-five accounts involved so far, invested through six banks and I don’t have information on all of them. There’s a small group of signers, but I may not have a comprehensive list.”

  “That’s what you took away from me, the list of approved signers. I was going to give it to you.”

  Kip arched an eyebrow and looked at her.

  “Right,” she mumbled. “That’s your job.”

  “Thank you for remembering that. And just because I’m feeding you doesn’t mean I’ve written you off as a suspect.”

  She glared. Kip, with her curly black hair down and the casualness of an old Seahawks sweatshirt, looked like a completely different person. And she was being…impudent. She really hadn’t thought her capable of it. “Okay by me. Do this by the book,” she said. “Any idea of how?”

  “Yes,” she said, her tone pert and satisfied. “I can’t discuss that with you in detail, of course. I could quote you the chapter and verse of the SFI Handbook.”

  Her glare deepened. Kip was enjoying herself far too much. “Any idea of who?”

  The silence stretched, then Kip slowly said, “That’s another thing I shouldn’t discuss with the client at this stage.”

  Her voice was taut as she said, “I think you could make an exception in this case.” She expected a fiery retort. She could see it bubbling around Kip’s lips.

  But then her mouth curved into a surprising smile. “Well, the head of the company gives me my marching orders and she just told me to do this by the book,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “She�
�ll have my head if I even bend a rule.”

  So she was being inconsistent, but she didn’t appreciate having that pointed out to her. Tam surprised herself by laughing, though. She set the ice bag down and tucked into the chicken lo mein. “I don’t know how you could work for someone like that.”

  “She pays well,” Kip said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

  Tam was feeling better with every bite. “Excellent choice,” she said, indicating the lo mein. “What’s in there?” She prodded a large Styrofoam cup.

  “Hot and sour soup.”

  She was definitely feeling better. “I think separate bowls would be appropriate.”

  Kip grinned and fetched two bowls and spoons. Tam ladled out her portion and inhaled the steam from the soup. She couldn’t believe she was sitting in Kip Barrett’s immaculate kitchen, chowing down on Chinese food and mostly sanguine about seven million dollars. The kitchen looked immaculate from lack of use rather than any neatness of habit, but the glimpse she’d had of the living room said Kip was either exceedingly tidy or never home long enough to disturb anything.

  Focus, she told herself. Almost seven million dollars was missing. “You’ve made considerable progress. Thank you.”

  “It’s all included in the service,” Kip said. Her light air faded as she said soberly, “I’m far enough along to do some fieldwork, so I may call in sick tomorrow so I can get to the local banks. I need to ETO the signature cards.”

  “When this is done, I’ll make sure you get your leave back, and some time off to boot.”

  “That will be very welcome. I’ll head back to the mountains. They did me a world of good this weekend.”

  She rubbed her cheekbone. “I wouldn’t say that.” Actually, she would. It wasn’t just the faded sweatshirt. There was color in her face and a sense of humor was evident. The shirt was far from shapeless and she found herself easily recalling the soft, melting firmness of Kip Barrett’s body. She stopped that train of thought, but remained surprised that she’d even had it. There were lots of attractive women in the world. She admired, but it wasn’t like her to ogle.

  Kip crumbled her fortune cookie and read, “‘Watch out for turning tables.’ Well, that’s always good advice.”

  Tam smoothed the pink slip of paper she’d extracted from her cookie. “‘To conquer temptation you must yield to it.’ Mothers everywhere would disagree.”

  “Mine certainly would have,” Kip said. “And my grandfather had quite explicit ideas about that, too.” She added softly, “He really was one of those guys who ran alongside the limo.”

  “So your file says.” Damn it all, she thought. “Look, you don’t have to tell me why and I’m not going to ask anymore.”

  Kip had stiffened. Their gazes locked across the table.

  Just when she thought Kip wasn’t going to respond, she said softly, “It’s not relevant to any work I may ever have to do for SFI.”

  Disappointed, but not surprised, Tam gestured at the food. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re welcome.” She glanced down at her food and Tam puzzled at what might have been a faint flush over her cheeks.

  “And thank you for the update. I know you’re working with limited access to information but go ahead with the ETO, full speed, and when you need more help we’ll get it.”

  “Will do,” Kip said. She gave Tam a cheerful smile but something in her expression was not the least bit nonchalant. It didn’t seem the time to probe and after a little more conversation, she made her excuses and headed home. When she found it difficult to relax and sleep she blamed it on her black eye and seven million dollars missing.

  * * *

  When Kip locked her door behind Sterling, she leaned her forehead against it. “Stupid, stupid fool,” she muttered. She cradled her aching left hand against her stomach. Tamara had seemed too bemused to notice Kip hadn’t used it for much. Thank goodness she’d used her left or she’d never have been able to handle the chopsticks. She picked up the ice bag Tamara had discarded and put it on her aching knuckles.

  Once again, she was proven to be a papier mâché superhero. One jab and she’d trashed her hand.

  She sank down into a chair and stared into space. She was tired and, having gobbled dinner, she was also drowsy. There was more work she could do tonight, she told herself, so she went down to the parking garage for the boxes and her laptop.

  It was difficult with one aching hand, but she managed to carry everything up and stow her laptop on her desk. Since she spent a lot of time working there, the cherry wood desk had the best window at the far end of the high-ceilinged living room. The view from her second-floor window was of treetops in the park across the street. Pleasant enough, but no comparison to the view that would greet Tamara Sterling when she reached home.

  Not that she wondered what Tamara Sterling would do with the rest of her evening. Sterling had never made any secret of her sexuality, so it wasn’t a total surprise that she’d use making out with a woman as a cover ploy. But her private life was zipped up tight, and Kip had no idea if Sterling was in a relationship or not.

  Not that it was her concern—unless Sterling was her suspect, she reminded herself. Yes, she was merely focused on Sterling’s private life because she might be involved in the embezzlement, and if she wasn’t, it was Kip’s job to clear her of suspicion.

  Glad to have sorted out her meandering thoughts, she almost switched the laptop on, then shook her head. Now she was too tired to work. Sleep would be better and she’d be more efficient for it in the morning.

  Only when she settled into bed did she acknowledge that she was badly shaken by the incident in the elevator. When they’d entered it, she’d been on her guard for attack. Though her instincts said Tamara was not the embezzler, she had caught the woman in the midst of taking evidence. Thinking herself prepared had been false, though, since she’d still been caught off guard when Tamara had grabbed her, using height and strength to stifle her. It should have never gotten that far, but a flare of something Kip couldn’t even describe had slowed her reflexes. Maybe that was a good thing. She was pretty sure she hadn’t been recognized, and that was important. Another stupid mistake, she scolded herself. She ought to have suggested separate elevators.

  She’d understood the purpose of the grab, and the kiss, but her mind and body had gone separate ways. There hadn’t been any reason to take a swing at her boss’s boss’s boss, but she’d panicked.

  Palms grasping at her ribs, thumbs sliding down her stomach, fingers caressing the small of her back—it had felt good. Too good. She’d been on the verge of inviting a more thorough kiss when Tamara had set her free. Completely idiotic, stupid, inappropriate, you-really-need-to-date-again response, she told herself.

  If Tamara Sterling was the embezzler Kip couldn’t afford to let her know that Kip’s defenses seemed to have some weaknesses. And if Sterling wasn’t the embezzler she was still her boss’s boss’s boss, and there was no fraternization at SFI. Zero tolerance. Anyone wanting to get involved with a colleague had to find a new job.

  End of story, Kip told herself firmly and she proceeded to lay awake for half the night.

  * * *

  “Don’t even ask.” Tam tried to forestall the inevitable question she could see forming on Mercedes’ lips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Mercedes fixed her with the look Tam was sure she used on her kids. Her large, expressive eyes were fully equipped with you-don’t-fool-me laser beams. “Uh-huh. That’s right. You don’t tell me what happened on your interesting weekend. You go right ahead as if your face weren’t black and blue. Don’t you say a word.”

  “I had an accident.”

  “No, no.” Mercedes waved her eloquent hands. Her southern origins revealed themselves in her tone. “Don’t tell me about it even though that accident must have involved running into someone else’s fist. I don’t want to know. I wouldn’t listen if you did tell me.”

  Tamara slumped into her chair and
tried to summon her dignity. “New York was a bust.”

  Mercedes became all work. “I heard—I’m so sorry. You must be exhausted.”

  “It certainly wasn’t your fault,” Tam said emphatically. “What’s on after the Monday morning staff meeting?”

  Mercedes glanced at her book, and Tam was glad that the southern belle—rare in Seattle and charmingly incongruous with her Amer-African-Asian features—had disappeared. “You already know about the conference call at nine. Richardson at Seattle National Bank moved the meeting back a half hour. Tonight is that fundraiser for the new wing of the library. Nadia Langhorn called to make sure you’ll be there. Today’s report review is stiff. I’ve got five on my desk already and at least two on the way.”

  “You’re tying to kill me, aren’t you?” Tam idly thought that her estimation of men was taken down a notch by the fact that Mercedes was single. She was curvy in the right places, had impeccable fashion sense, and given the passion she showed for her work Tam had no doubt she would show passion at other times.

  “Yes,” she said emphatically. “I want you dead because I enjoy the unemployment line.” She glanced at Kip over the top of her gold-rimmed glasses. “I can farm a couple of them to Diane. She wants to see you at two anyway. But you know as well as I do that she’ll want to know what happened to your face. If I knew I could prepare her, then she wouldn’t pester you so much. But of course I don’t know, now do I?”

  Tam should have known Mercedes wouldn’t give up until she had the whole story. “I did something I shouldn’t have and the someone who didn’t appreciate it had a very direct way of explaining her displeasure.”

  “Her?” Mercedes eyebrows disappeared under her page-boy bangs.

  Tam mentally groaned. Mercedes thought the best thing for her would be a wife who would take on mothering her full-time. As if she needed full-time mothering. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine Kip Barrett mothering anyone. She started to smile, then realized she’d thought of wives and Kip Barrett way too close together. What was wrong with her today? Oh—exhaustion. Sleep deprivation. Anxiety. The memory of a soft sweatshirt.