This Year's Black (2 page)

How many times had he called her cell only to be met by a deafening busy signal? His father may be right that he was just a stubborn ex-jock with a dented brain, but he’d finally gotten her message. The last thing he needed in his life was another woman who sent mixed signals—no matter how sexy she was. Been there. Done her. Never want to again.

“
Ryder, I apologize for
my right-hand man
’
s
rudeness.
Let me introduce you. Devin Harris is our general merchandise manager.” George ambled around the desk, his over-indulged belly leading the way. “He blames himself for the troubles, which I’ve already told him is preposterous—unless, of course, he’s the one syphoning off my cash.” He chuckled at his own joke and held out his hand to Ryder. “Devin, this lovely lady is Ryder Falcon with Maltese Security.”

She shook his hand, her jaw tightening when the CEO held on for a few beats too many. Irritation tightened Devin
’
s spleen when he realized he’d actually counted how many seconds the handshake had
lasted
.

“Is there anyone who sticks out as a possible suspect?” she asked.

“All the signs point to Craig in accounting,” Devin snarled. “I’m just choosing to ignore them because I want to sabotage the deal to take Dylan’s Department Store global.”

Even to himself, his sarcasm sounded like the spoiled, petulant teenager he used to be. Ryder didn’t miss his snotty tone, either. She pivoted to face him. When he’d stripped her down to her see-through black bra and panties with her feet flat on the floor, she’d stood almost eye to eye with him. Today, in her heels, she added a good three inches to her height, putting her at just over six feet.

Looking up to a woman like Ryder would have some men on edge, but Devin relished the challenge she presented. Not that he wanted her under—or above—him again, but nothing got his blood pumping faster than someone telling him he couldn’t do something.

And Ryder Falcon was a walking stop sign.

“I’m not questioning your abilities,” she said in a tone that did just that. “I was simply starting my research. The more I know about the situation, the faster I’ll be able to track down the embezzler and recover your lost funds.”

George patted his stomach. “My thoughts exactly. That’s why I want you to come onboard and pose as Devin’s personal assistant during the investigation. That will give you access to most of our people without raising too many eyebrows.”

The wind rushed out of Devin’s lungs as if he’d gotten a side kick to the chest. “What are you talking about?” His lungs ached with the effort of sputtering out the five words. “I can do this on my own.”

Just looking at Ryder Falcon made him feel like he was on a roller coaster, and that annoyed the hell out of him. He’d spent most of his early life bouncing from good time to good time, living down to his father’s constant and loudly expressed low expectations. Now, he appreciated the solid, the steady, the predictability of a five a.m. workout and a demanding job that left him elated and exhausted by eleven at night.

“It’s perfectly logical to partner you two up. We need her expertise. She needs access, which you can give her. Everyone knows you’re going through the books prior to the merger. And MulitCorp doesn’t need to know anything about this little snafu before we finalize the merger next week. You and I both know they’ll run like cockroaches when the lights come on if they even hear a rumor that our financials aren’t what they’re supposed to be. That gives you two a week to find the culprit and, hopefully, recover the stolen funds, before I have to give MultiCorp full access to our books prior to the final signatures.”

Ryder’s face had frozen into a neutral mask, but the way she twisted a strand of long, dark brown hair around a finger gave away her nervousness. “Sir, I can work much more efficiently and effectively on my own. There’s really no need to involve Mr. Harris in this.”

Mr. Harris, was it?
That extra little bit of formality, considering the sweaty circumstances of their last meeting, woke up the natural antagonist in him. No way was she working a case alone, and she sure as hell wouldn
’
t work it with anyone but him. “I don’t know
Ms. Falcon.
If I remember correctly, we can work very well together.”

If she could have slit him open with a look, his guts would have been spilled all over George’s pin-neat desk.

The old man looked from one to the other, his eyes bloodshot but still keen as ever. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” No doubt he had picked up on the undercurrent and planned to exploit it to his best advantage. A
fter all
, the old man hadn’t made Dylan’s Department Store the must-shop-at experience for Harbor City’s fashion elite by being slow-witted. “Isn’t this perfect?”

Devin prowled across the office, every step closer making the color rise in her olive-complected cheeks, but she didn’t give even an inch of ground. That fact excited him as much as the memory of her smooth skin under his tongue. “Don’t worry, boss, we’ll have this case solved before you know it.”

“We?” Ryder’s smooth alto tripped over the one syllable word.

“There’s millions of dollars in cash and hundreds of millions in stocks on the line if the deal falls through.” He stopped a few steps away from her, but close enough to peek into the deep V of her black linen blouse and notice the heated flush climbing up her cleavage. Looked like someone wasn’t as unaffected by him as she pretended. “There’s no way this happens without Dylan
’
s representation every step of the way.”

“Whatever you wish.” She’d recovered enough to sprinkle just the right amount of insincerity in her tone, relaying her feelings on the matter without being openly rude. “You
’
re the client.”

Devin had been told, subtly and not so subtly, to fuck off too many times to count, but this was the first time that his only response was a twitch behind his zipper.

Chapter Two

“
Strong women wear their pain like stilettos. No matter how much it hurts, all you see is the beauty of it.”

— Harriet Morgan

Chocolate was medically necessary if Ryder was going to make it through the next twenty-four hours. Well, that and some girl time in the form of gossip at Coffee Grounds with her best friends Drea and Sylvie. Every Thursday morning, they’d meet up at nine to swap gossip and inhale the carb-loaded goodness coming out of the in-house bakery.

Also, it was conveniently located three blocks from the third dimension of hell—also known as Devin Harris’s office—so that meant she could sneak in for the regular chat and still report to her fake job on time.

A bell trilled as she pushed through the coffee shop’s front doors. It only took a second to spot her best friends already lounging on the Burberry plaid loveseat facing the kitchen. Those who lived and died by their daily dose of caffeine filled every other available seat, and more than a few of them were shooting dirty looks toward the duo on the couch.

“How did you manage to get such prime seats?” Ryder sat down in the red leather chair next to the loveseat.

“
Shhh
, doll baby,” Drea whispered, her gaze fixed solidly over Ryder’s left shoulder. “He’s doing something to the dough that I wish he was doing to me.”

The loveseat had become prime real estate ever since the world’s hottest pastry chef started working at Coffee Grounds. The couch faced the glass wall dividing the front of the house from the kitchen, giving patrons a look into the inner workings of the coffee shop. Right now that meant watching the dark-haired delight in the white chef’s jacket roll and knead the lightly floured dough in front of him. For a full minute, Drea didn’t blink her eyes, which were done up in a thick cat’s eye with white, shimmery powder that contrasted perfectly with her dark brown skin. As a makeup artist to Harbor City’s elite fashionable set, Drea didn’t do
au natur
ele
.

Ryder shook her head and giggled. “You are such a perv.”

“Nah, I just know what I like and I
’
m not afraid to go get it.” She slid her dark-eyed glance Ryder’s way. “Unlike some people I know who seem to think they have some sort of dude curse.”

Her chest tightened with a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and chagrin. She loved her best friends, but she’d made her decision of a commitment-free year to retrain her guy-dar so she’d stop falling for the same brand of shithead as she had in the past and she was sticking to it.

“Don’t you start in, too, Drea.” She took a sip of the double mocha latte already waiting for her on the table. Nothing settled her nerves as much as knowing she had good friends who knew her well enough to get her emergency order without even asking. “Sylvie is already riding me about my year of no relationships. I’ve been practicing serial monogamy with one loser after another since I was eighteen. You can’t deny I’m an asshole magnet. Anyway, I can’t go through what happened with Heath again.”

Anxiety formed a lump in her throat. Just the idea of falling hard for the wrong guy again had her stomach doing the rhumba. Had she gone overboard? Maybe. But she wasn’t about to admit it.

Sylvie leaned forward and snagged a chocolate crumpet. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.” Her smile softened her words. “We
’
ve all had our hearts broken by jerks, and Heath was in a class of his own, but that was more than a year ago. Don’t you think it’s time to get back out there?”

“You say that like I’m not dating. I am.” Okay, that might be a stretch. It was more like an experiment in keeping it all physical without any of the emotional stuff.

“Just not the same guy twice. Or anyone you’re really interested in.” Sylvie retorted.

“Do I need to go down the ex hall of shame again? It’s a long fucking list, capped off by Heath, the guy who lied about everything and tried to beat the shit out of me when I confronted him about it.”

Drea said, “The chances of you getting duped by a catfish scheme twice in one lifetime by an abusive dickwad are pretty fucking low.” She dragged her focus away from the pastry chef. “Heath, or whatever the hell his name really is, lied to you online, pretended to be someone he wasn’t, and went so far as to share fake pics of his dog with his dying mom to convince you he was legit. It’s how scum like him operates. They build trust. You did your due diligence—”

“And yet I still ended up in the emergency room with a broken wrist and a black eye.” Ryder squirmed in her seat, wishing more than anything she could take out her own shortcomings on a kick bag. After she’d gotten the cast off her wrist, she’d returned to Paulie’s Gym and rediscovered herself. Each punch and every kick made her stronger, safer, and more in control. That’s where she’d come up with her one-date-only policy. It was like a hard reboot of her system that she hoped would reset her sense of attraction.

Sylvie squeezed her hand. “You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions. Heath is to blame. Not you. You didn’t do anything wrong. All you’re doing now is shutting yourself off to life’s possibilities.”

“I have my reasons.” Grabbing hold of her mile-wide stubborn streak like a life preserver on open waters, she forced her fidgeting body to still. “No one else in the world but you two knows exactly what they are, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Drea’s full lips settled into a thin line. “What I know is that you’re using that fucked up situation with that asshole to tread water. Life is always moving forward, and you have to move with it. Holding onto all that dead weight does nothing for you but give you bags under your eyes that my makeup brush can’t hide.”

“I thought there was nothing you couldn’t fix.”

“Don’t try to butter me up, doll baby. I am un-butter-up-able.” Drea sipped her chai tea. “But you’re right. I’m damn good.”

Ryder couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up inside as she glanced down at her watch. “Shit, I’m going to have to blaze soon.”

“Big case?” Sylvie asked.

“Sort of.” Ryder popped a chocolate pastry bite into her mouth, and pleasure rippled from her tongue throughout her body. Damn, that chef was good to look at
and
made the most divine goodies. She might just throw down with Drea for him. “I’m going undercover as a personal assistant for a few days.”

“And you thought assistants dressed like that chick from
The Matrix
?” Sylvie asked.

Ryder smoothed her hand against her black pencil skirt and made sure all the buttons on her black button down were fastened. “She wasn
’
t wearing a skirt.”

Sylvie shook her head. “
Ryder.
”

“Come on. Besides, Mom got me this skirt.”

“For a funeral, no doubt.” Drea bumped fists with Sylvie. “Doll baby, there is nothing wrong with adding a little color to your all-black wardrobe. Come on, get crazy.”

“No way. The last time I let you talk me into breaking out of my comfort zone, I ended up in bed with my new client.”

Both women’s jaws hit the floor.

Heat ate its way north from her chest. “You remember… The guy from the club. A few weeks ago. Muscles? Tattoos? Ass worth crying over? Totally my type and, therefore, exactly the kind of guy I should stay the hell away from?” She looked from one shocked face to the other. “Come on, I know I told you about him.” The one who
’
d tempted her beyond all reason to come back for seconds and thirds and fourths.

Sylvie tossed a crumpled up napkin at her. “The question is how did you wait this long to tell us he’s your new client?”

“Playing a little boss and secretary, eh?” Drea asked. “Who’s the perv now?”

An image of stripping down to her heels while Devin sat behind his desk flashed in her mind, and her whole body began to tingle. “Don’t even put that image in my head. I’m not falling off the wagon again.”

Always ready for any matchmaking opportunity, Sylvie’s green eyes lit up. “Is he the guy you wouldn’t call back?”

She locked her gaze on the last drops of mocha latte in her cup. “That’s the one.”

“Remind me again why you ended up blocking him from your phone?”

“Like I said, he’s just my type—my old type.” She reached for her purse. The girls were circling, and she knew better than to stick around when they decided it was time to offer some older sister advice. She loved them, but sometimes being the youngest in the group sucked big hairy goat balls.

“So the hot, muscled, tattooed guy with a great job who’s fabulous in bed and more than a little bit interested in you isn’t your type?” Drea asked. “And then, after you blocked him, you spent the next week at Paulie’s Gym punching things. That had nothing to do with this guy at all?”

Ryder nodded and stood, ready to bolt. “Exactly.”

Sylvie and Drea exchanged a she’s-full-of-shit glance, but Ryder ignored it. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t about to let personal feelings fuck up this case. From here on out, she was all business.

…

Devin rubbed the back of his neck and pushed his way to the rear of elevator at Dylan
’
s Department Store.
As soon as the doors closed, the baby in the stroller lost his mind. The kid’s screams jabbed through Devin’s eardrums and marched down his spine like an army of ants wearing razor-sharp cleats. The woman, whom he assumed was the mom, had the frazzled, embarrassed, and at-the-end-of-her-rope look of someone who’d been on the receiving end of a baby’s anger and stranger’s disapproval for most of the day.

It reminded him of the last walk he’d taken with his little brother, James, outside of the long-term care facility. A police cruiser came roaring by with the lights flashing and siren blaring. James had clapped his hands over his ears and howled in fear before crumpling to the ground. Strangers had given them wide berth as they hustled past on the sidewalk. No one tried to help. Not like they could. Devin had made sure of that years ago.

The mother picked up the fussy baby and hugged him close, cooing ineffectually in his ear.

“Sorry.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the others in the elevator before quickly turning to face front again. “He’s teething.”

While the elevator inched toward the lobby floor, the other riders ignored her remark and continued to aim dirty looks at the back of her head. She bounced the kid up and down, jiggling him in a failed attempt to calm him, but the red-faced creature didn
’
t give a shit about the censure. He just kept screaming.

Devin scrunched up his face and made fish lips at the kid. The yelling continued, but the volume dropped a few decibels. He pulled his Stefano Ricci micro-neat silk tie away from his shirt, stuck his fingertips into the pointy end, and curled it toward himself before making faces at it as if the light blue Italian tie was a puppet. The screaming silenced, but the kid’s mouth stayed poised to emit a deafening racket at any moment.

He eyed Devin warily.

Smart kid.

Time to break out the big guns. He let go of his tie and covered his face with his hands, waited a beat, then opened them up. The baby giggled at the peek-a-boo game, showing off two tiny front teeth in an otherwise gummy smile. Devin disappeared again behind his hands just as a
ping
sounded, announcing the elevator had arrived at the lobby level.

The doors slid open in sync with Devin’s hands, revealing a smiling baby being carried out into the flood of people at the elevator banks. Dead in the center of the crowd stood Ryder Falcon, looking at him like he’d lost his ever-loving mind.

He immediately dropped his hands and shoved them deep into his pockets.

“You coming out?” Ryder asked, a grin tugging the corners of her mouth.

Smooth move, Harris. You’re such a stud.
“No. I was heading down to meet you in the lobby.”

She strode into the elevator, looking every inch like she owned the building, and met his gaze with her unwavering eyes. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are.” He shut his trap before he blew her away with any more of his oh-so-amazing verbal skills.

The influx of people marching onto the elevator put that awkward conversation out of its misery, which was a blessing. Until, that is, the crowd pushed Ryder farther and farther back so that she stood directly in front of him with only a bare minimum of space between their bodies. From that small distance, even a saint would have imagined how good her butt looked encased in a black pencil skirt.

They rode up to the executive level in wary silence. By the time they arrived, they were the only ones left in the elevator, and the taunting cinnamon scent of her perfume was seriously testing his patience. This attraction was just going to slow him down in this investigation, but damn if standing this close to her didn
’
t make taking it slow seem appealing. He shook himself. What had happened between them a few weeks ago didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding the embezzler and getting the books fixed before they had to open them to MultiCorp.

George might have foisted Ryder on him, but that didn’t mean Devin wouldn’t control every step of this investigation. He knew too well from personal experience that ceding control led only to very bad things.

They stepped out onto the fifteenth floor. The first ten floors of Dylan’s Department Store’s flagship store were for shopping. Floors eleven through fourteen were administration offices. The top floor was reserved for Dylan’s Department Store’s executives. It had been his home for the past ten years, and he’d do whatever it took to safeguard the store
’
s success. He wouldn’t fail at this, too.

Jane Anndra sat at her post at the main reception desk opposite the elevator. A veteran at Dylan’s Department Store, she knew everything and everyone. Introducing Ryder would be the fastest way to get this farce George had cooked up to the boiling point.

“So what’s on the agenda today, sir?” Ryder smiled at him, the picture of an eager new employee, and pulled a notepad and pen out of her oversize ebony Calvin Klein tote bag that matched her all-black ensemble.