Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,13

went up and about his neck.

In a single, lithe movement he twisted free of her embrace and to his feet to stand looking down at her, arms crossed on his chest in a lord-of-the-wilderness stance. His face registered disgust. “Good value, or what?”

“Street trash!” She scrambled to her feet. “You haven’t changed at all! How could you…”

“How could I what?” His eyes became amber slits. “Defend myself? Offer you proof of the validity of your accusations? Don’t try to lie about it. You liked it, Ms. CFO. You liked it a lot. I know the signs.”

“I did not!”

He shrugged, turned away, and knelt again to resume his work on the computer connection.

“I want you to leave…” Her entire body still reflexing from his assault, she sputtered.

“Not until I find out if the Lodge has a mortgage hanging over it,” he muttered, plugging in a connection. He drew a deep, exasperated breath as he looked at the diagonal lines crossing the monitor. “James Wilcox told me the Chance is heavily mortgaged and if the person who inherits doesn’t manage to meet an upcoming balloon payment, it’ll go on the auction block in less than a month.”

“The real estate agent said that?” Allison’s anger vanished into shock. “I can’t believe Gramps would ever mortgage anything. He remembered the Great Depression too well and never took out loans on anything.”

“I don’t believe it either.” He tried another connection, with no better results. “Still, forewarned is forearmed. We need the facts, and they’re all right in this miserable pile of nuts and screws.”

“Here, let me.” Coming back into self-control, she had to know the truth as well. She knelt beside him, took the wires from his hands, and snapped them into the proper slots. The lines on the monitor straightened.

“There.” She slid into the chair in front of the screen. “Let’s check out accounts payable.”

“You sound as if you actually know something about this.” He got up, pulled another office chair close beside her, and sat down.

“I’m CFO of a large corporation. I majored in business administration at university. I take it you studied something else.”

“Biology, ecology, nothing important.”

“Okay, okay. Point.” Biting back a more caustic retort, she punched a few keys and waited. Stop distracting me! His tanned, clean-shaven jaw and softly curling hair were too close to her right cheek for comfort. “Move back and let me work.”

“Fine.” Raising his hands, he backed off and went to lean against a file cabinet, arms and ankles crossed.

Fifteen minutes later Allison settled back in the chair and swiveled it to face him. “No mortgages, not even an unpaid gas bill. Wilcox was attempting a snow job. And a pretty clumsy one. He should have known I’d look into the accounts as soon as I got here.”

“Just as I thought.” He rolled his shoulders and Allison realized he’d had a long day, too. “Jack left his finances in the same great shape he left everything on this place. I’m glad I won’t have to start issuing checks for the Chance’s expenses until the end of the month. I’ll need to get a handle on this computer stuff before I do.”

“You? Issue checks? What were you, his business manager? If so, you should have been a lot better informed about the state of his finances.”

“I was his guide foreman, his camp manager.” He shrugged. “Finances aren’t a strong point with me, but he did give me his power of attorney several years ago in case checks had to be issued when he wasn’t around. I didn’t want the responsibility, but he insisted.”

“I see.” Allison turned off the computer and stood. “So now you sneak around in the middle of the night, trying to access his financial records to see how large a check his bank account can handle.”

“Do you really believe that?” A sardonic grin curled his lips.

“Does it matter? After tomorrow you’ll be out of my life forever. Lock the door when you leave.”

She was crossing the living room when his shadow fell over her. Glancing back, she saw him lounging in the lighted office doorway, watching her.

“What?” The word snapped out.

“I never thought I could be turned on by pink flannel,” he said, his face suffused in shadow. “Until now.”

“Ahhhhhhh!” The man was a lecher. She wished she were wearing work boots so she could stomp away.

Back in her room, she locked the door and climbed into bed. Tramp, savage… The words were among her last conscious thoughts as she pulled the quilts up