Page 53 of Heated Takeover

“They’re more than assholes,” she says. “They are misogynistic pricks who can’t acknowledge a woman in the room unless she’s some ditsy secretary offering to bring them coffee,” she rants and I grab her. I reach out and take her arms in my hands and stop her.

“Their opinion doesn’t matter. Only mine does. You brought this to my attention, YOU. My opinion is the only one that counts in this instance, and I know it was you that caught this. And because of that, you are going to help me figure out who is responsible for it in the end.”

“Why, because it’s convenient for you?” she asks, being saltier than I’d prefer.

“No. Because you are smart. Smarter than half the people here. And because you know Mission Events better than almost anyone. Someone on the inside is embezzling money, and we are going to figure out who it is together,” I state plainly. With that she closes her mouth and goes soft in my hands. I take a step forward, and she leans into me. There’s nothing left for us to do except give in to the kiss that we both want…but we don’t give in.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “For figuring this out.”

She swallows. Nods, then takes a step back.

Then she clears her throat, grabs her things, and walks out of my office, leaving me alone. Alone with only my thoughts.

I don’t know what has me more on fire right now. Knowing that someone is taking money from a company I now own or Natalie. Even when she’s doing nothing at all, wearing clothes that leave everything to the imagination, Natalie makes me want to do horrible, delicious things.

Chapter 21

Natalie

“Well folks. It is officially hurricane season in the Magic City, and today’s fast-moving rain system is here to prove it. The worst bands are expected this afternoon. Schools are closing as a precaution, and localized flooding and outages may follow. If you need to travel, do it now, avoid low roads, and be home before the flash-flood warnings take effect.”

I grab the remote and switch the TV from the weather channel to PBS, and Daniel Tiger’s face fills the screen. It’s catchy enough to distract Jamie and quiet enough that I can figure out what my workday is going to look like now that school has been canceled.

“Well, bud,” I say. “It’s no snow day, but this is what you get when you live here.”

“What’s a snow day?” he asks, as any kid growing up in Florida would.

“Exactly,” I say, ruffling his hair and walking into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

Brittany texts me asking if she needs to come over so I can go to work. She lives in a condo around the corner, so she’s within walking distance. Considering the wild weather we’re having, I think I’ll stay on the side of caution today. I am all Jamie has, and I’m not going to risk my life just to impress my boss.

I call Marcus.

“I don’t think we are going to be able to work on those accounts today,” I tell him. We were supposed to meet at his office and dig deeper into the embezzlement suspicions. Between the two of us, we planned on pinpointing when the embezzlement started and by whom. “Jamie’s school is closed, and I’d rather not attempt driving through a river.”

“No, you stay home,” Marcus insists immediately.

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m sorry to have to do this. As soon as the roads are clear and you don’t need oars and a rowboat, I’ll be there.”

“I’m already on my way to you with the account files,” he says, and I stop.

“What?” I ask.

“We can work from there. Tuck checked the route, and we’ll be inside before the worst band reaches the city.”

“You’re coming to my house?” I ask.

“Mr. Ash is coming to our house!?” Jamie squeals with delight, jumping up and down on the couch, grinning from ear to ear. “We can make mac and cheese! The good kind. In the oven with the crunchy stuff.”

“No, no,” I say to both of them. “Mr. Ash isn’t coming over, buddy. You are not coming over.”

“Yes I am,” he says.

“But I told you,” I whisper sternly. “That I don’t want you at my house.”

“But I’ve already met Jamie, and he wants to make mac and cheese…with crunchy stuff. What’s the crunchy stuff?”

“Breadcrumbs,” I say, before shaking my head. “Marcus, we can work on it another day. It’s not a big deal–”