"So you figured if you were going to go down, you'd go down swinging."
"Yeah, now you get it."
"Honey, I was a starting pitcher all the way through college. Went All-State. I ate clutch hitters like you for breakfast."
When she laughed, some of his worry eased. She took a moment to sip her wine, study the star-strewn sky. "It felt good. It felt right. Even being scared felt right because I was doing something about it. I demanded a partners' meeting, and there I was, back in the conference room, just like the day they fired me. Only this time I fired back."
She took a deep breath before launching into a play-by-play of what had happened inside the conference room. He listened, admiring the way her voice strengthened, her eyes hardened. Perhaps her vulnerability pulled at him, but this confident, determined woman was no less appealing.
"And you're prepared to deal with the fallout if they press formal charges?"
"I'm prepared to fight and to face all the fallout. And I'm prepared to do some serious thinking about who set me up. Because somebody did. Either because they were focused on me or because I was convenient. But someone used me to cheat the firm and the clients, and they're not going to get away with it."
"I can help you." He held up a hand before she could object. "I've got a feel for people. And I've spent my entire adult life dealing with the intrigues and petty pilfering of a large organization. You're the expert with figures, I'm better with personalities, motivations."
He could see her turning it over in her mind, weighing the possibilities. He smiled. "Let's use baseball again. You're the batter, I'm the pitcher. You swing away. I finesse."
"You don't even know any of the people involved."
He would make it his business to, he thought grimly, but he kept his voice mild. "So, you'll tell me about them. You're practical enough to admit there's an advantage to a fresh viewpoint."
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Thanks."
"We can start working on the bios tomorrow. I can see why you were wired. You've had quite a day."
"It took some doing to bring myself down after the business at Bittle. Then I knew I had to face Aunt Susie. I took a breather at the cliffs, and—"
She jumped up from her chair. "Jesus, I forgot! I can't believe I actually forgot! God, what did I do with it?" Foolishly, she patted her hips, then remembered she was wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt. "My pocket. I'll be right back. Stay here."
She streaked inside like a bullet, leaving Byron shaking his head after her. The woman was a mass of contradictions, he decided as he rose to clear the table. It was no use reminding himself that he preferred the quiet, soothing, and sophisticated type. The Laura type, he supposed. Well-mannered, well-read, well-bred.
Yet he'd never felt this bright, hot need with Laura. Or with anyone, for that matter.
Instead, it was Kate, this bumpy and often inconvenient detour, who continually fascinated him.
Just how would his complicated and turbulent Kate react if he told her he was beginning to believe he was falling in love with her?
"Hah!" Triumphant, she bolted back into the kitchen, prepared to bask in his astonishment. She smiled smugly as he stared at her, eyes dark and intense. "I found it."
She was flushed and rumpled. Her short hair stood in spikes, those long, slim legs pale gold beneath the hem of his shirt. She had no figure to speak of, was more bone than curve. The little mascara she'd bothered with was smudged under her eyes. Her nose was crooked. Had he noticed that before? The nose was just slightly off center, and her mouth was certainly too wide for that narrow face.
"You're not beautiful," he said in a quiet statement that made her brow knit "Why do you look beautiful when you're not?"
"How much of that wine did you drink, De Witt?"
"Your face is wrong." As if to prove it to himself, he came around the counter for a closer look. "It's like whoever put it together used a couple of spare parts from someone else's."
"This is all very fascinating," she said impatiently. "But—"
"At first glance your body looks like it belongs to a teenage boy, all arms and legs."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Universe. Have you finished your unsolicited critique of my looks?"
"Almost." His lips curved a little as he skimmed a hand along her jaw. "I love the way you look. I can't figure out why, but I love the way you look, the way you move." He slipped his arms around her, drew her in. "The way you smell."
"This is a novel way to seduce me."
"The way you taste," he continued and skimmed his lips up her throat.