She looked up at him. “You don’t even know me.”
“You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than a year of conversation.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a quote.”
“Plato.”
She laughed. A few moments of silence lingered while they both caught their breath.
“How was your trip?” she asked.
“Good. We got everything worked out. I shouldn’t have to go out to that project again for a while. How are things on your home front?”
Miranda groaned. “Gypsy has decided to stay.”
Jack had to admit, he thought this was a good thing. A very good thing. If Miranda could start letting her family in, he held out hope that she could eventually let him in. “That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
Miranda closed her eyes and sighed. “Rebuilding a relationship with Gypsy feels a lot like trying to mend a fence that’s made out of rotten wood.”
He stroked the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Damn, she was beautiful, her face flushed with color, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes sleepy and sated. “Then you salvage what you can and blend what’s left with a few fresh pieces straight from the lumberyard.”
She smiled, a flash of white in the dark. “Nice metaphor.”
He ran a hand down her hair, then her spine, pausing when he reached her ass. Her skin was so soft, her curves so sexy.
“Miranda.” He waited until she met his eyes. “I want this to work. I want to keep seeing you.” When she gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look, he went on, hurrying to get out his ideas before she shut down. “New York is a two-hour straight shot from here. I could come as often as possible. I could send you tickets to come to New York.”
She leaned away, focusing intently. “You’re just fantasizing, right? You have to know how unrealistic that is.”
“People do long-distance relationships all the time. I know at least half a dozen people who come to New York for a job during the week and drive or fly home on the weekends.”
“With our schedules?” She exhaled, the sound heavy. “Let’s take things one day at a time. You’ll be here for a little while, right? At least another week?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Let’s revisit this then.” She smiled, but the expression was sad. “You may be tired of me by then.”
15
Jack leaned against the fender of his car and crossed his arms as he stared up at Pinnacle’s largest ongoing project. He forced his mind from Miranda. Despite another amazing night together, she hadn’t waffled on her resistance to anything ongoing between them.
But there were problems here too. Big ones. Problems draining the company of what little cash flow they’d had since Bruce bailed. Jack desperately wanted to plug the leaks.
Klein pulled up behind Jack in a Lexus SUV. He stood from the car with a file folder an inch thick and pulled off aviator sunglasses as he approached.
“Jack.” He offered his hand and they shook, then Klein took up the same position as Jack and looked up at the building. “Your instincts were right. Alex Fischer is a problem here.”
A tingle coursed up Jack’s spine. “Have him arrested, on the jobsite. Today. Now. I want to send a message to the entire company—”
“I know how pissed you are,” Klein said. “I know this is a total betrayal of a long-standing relationship, but there are more people involved than just Alex.”
Jack turned to face him. “Who? How?”
“I’m still figuring it out. I’ve been tracking the excess supplies you red-flagged through project case files, inventory records, shipping manifests. I’ve followed where the supplies came from, when, and how. And I’m matching that up with the building’s progress, figuring out what should have been used when, how much, and where the excess currently lives. I’m still tracking down the missing excess, because I believe where it ended up will tell us a lot about who the other players are in this scam.”
Jack nodded. “Solid plan.”
“But not an easy one. It seems as if once the shipments are logged in here, parts of them disappear with no trace. No sales records, no shipping information.”