San Francisco (International Guy Book 5) Page 5

  “Then it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out who’s accessed the accounts and made withdrawals or moved money in a pattern of some sort, right?”

  “In a perfect world, yes. From what I was able to surmise over the last six quarters, the person has been doing it for at least eighteen months, maybe more. I’d have to go back further to find out for sure.”

  “If I were you, I’d get on it immediately. Take your results to the boss lady.” I grin and wink suggestively.

  Keehan’s cheeks seem to darken a bit. “Yeah, I’ll do that. What are you going to do while we deal with this storm?”

  “About this situation?”

  He jerks his chin up in agreement.

  “Nothing. I’m not here to find out who’s embezzling from her company, although I’m certain Royce is making it his personal mission. Regardless of how you feel, I’m here to find her a mate.”

  Keehan scowls and clacks away at his keyboard. “And how do you propose to do that, if I may ask?”

  This is too freakin’ easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel. “Why? You going to throw your hat into the ring, finally?”

  “Maybe.” He centers his gaze on me and doesn’t move a muscle, his fingers hovering over the keys in front of him.

  “I have thirteen prospects to present.”

  He huffs. “Including me?”

  “You’d make fourteen,” I add dryly, as if the number isn’t high. Technically it really isn’t, but to a man who’s in love with a woman, been hiding it for years, that’s thirteen competitors vying for the heart of the woman he wants.

  “Good Lord. This is a nightmare.” He presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

  “Sorry to hear you feel that way. I can say I’m glad this scenario is pushing you out of your comfort zone. Something tells me Rochelle is not a woman who waits around. She’ll want a man to be assertive. Show her he’s interested. Not sit twiddling his thumbs while she goes to bed alone every night.”

  “Oh, she’s not alone unless she wants to be. Have you seen her?” He smirks.

  I cant my head to the side. “How does that make you feel?”

  The smirk dies on his face. “Like scum on the bottom of her Louboutins. Like a loser who’s pining away for a woman, living a rather celibate lifestyle because no other woman will do it for him. I see her, and my entire being comes alive. Other women, and my lower half flatlines.” He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  I whistle. “Harsh.”

  “Truth,” he rebuts.

  “Sounds to me like you need to make some serious changes and fast, if not for you, then for your friend.” I flick my gaze to below his desk and back to his eyes, so he catches my meaning loud and clear.

  “And how do you propose I do that?”

  I grin, pull up a chair, and sit my ass down in it. The plan I hatched while they talked embezzlers is falling right into place.

  4

  The next morning, it’s business as usual as I make my way through the halls of Renner Financial Services, or RFS as the employees call it. I know Royce worked late with Rochelle trying to nail down the schmuck who’s stealing from the company, but I haven’t been briefed. I went to bed before he made it back to his hotel room, which, if I think about it, concerns me, but as Skyler reminded me again last night, Royce is a big boy and can handle himself.

  Still, I’m not certain I shouldn’t ask him to jump ship and fly home, take on another client he’s not so affected by. It would be the wise thing to do for sure. His desire for her is messing up the flow.

  Kind of like when you were falling all over yourself for Skyler, or falling into bed with Sophie for that matter.

  I’m such a hypocrite. A knot forms in my gut. I know I need to let this play out, but it’s gnawing at my insides to fix it. Fix Royce’s problem. Help my brother find what will soothe his soul, like I’ve found what soothes mine. How can wanting to see someone you care about get what they truly desire in life be so wrong?

  When I reach Rochelle’s office, I’m still debating with myself on how to best broach the issue again with Royce when I hear laughter through the door. A very distinctive laugh to be exact. I open the door slowly and grind my teeth at the tableau I encounter.

  Rochelle is sitting on her desk, skirt hiked up to her waist, Royce cradled between her opened thighs. Her head is tipped back, more laughter coming from her throat as Royce lays a line of kisses up her neck to her lips. His hand curls around her smooth thigh and hikes it up higher around his waist.

  Sweet baby Jesus, this is bad.

  “You want me to nail you right here in your office like I did last night?” His voice is a wicked promise.

  “God, yes.” Her hands move around his form to his ass, and she pulls him even closer.

  I can’t tell if he’s dressed, but he seems put together from behind, his pants not sagging around his knees; I guess I can thank the good Lord for small favors.

  “It’s very unprofessional . . . ,” he taunts.

  “Yes, it is. Very unprofessional,” I state loudly.

  One bald head and one dark one jerk out of the sex trance they were in and both turn to me. Royce, still in front of Rochelle, lets her leg fall back to her desk. Rochelle pushes him back so she can slide off the desk, gripping her skirt and tugging it down as she does so.

  “Brother.” Royce’s tone is flat and devoid of emotion when he faces me. As I suspected, his pants are still done up, not much out of place besides his tie dangling around his neck and a few of the shirt buttons undone.

  “I see someone is working hard.” I clasp my hands in front of me, one holding the tablet with the information about the men I was planning to go over with them.

  Royce closes his eyes momentarily and sighs.

  “Mr. Ellis, this is not what it looks like . . . ,” Rochelle starts.

  “Really? It looks like my partner was about to pound you into next week on your desk, and from what I heard, it wouldn’t be the first time.” All of this I state flatly.

  Rochelle smiles coyly. “Okay, so it is what it looks like, but no harm, no foul. It’s not serious. We’re having a bit of fun.”

  A bit of fun.

  The phrase spins around in my mind back to a time where I thought I was having a bit of fun with a fuckhot blonde. A bit of fun turned into a committed relationship. Which would mean, if I believed that Rochelle was Royce’s one in seven billion, I’d back off. The confirmation from her mouth that Roy means nothing to her but a little fun in the sack proves my point.

  I shake my head, turn around, and close the door to avoid any onlookers who might happen by. “Look, if the two of you want to go there with one another, far be it from me to get involved. However, you hired us to find you a mate. Has that changed in light of recent events?” I gesture to Roy and the desk he’s leaning against.

  Before Royce can respond, Rochelle immediately replies, “No.”

  Royce’s mouth opens and closes tight. His professional mask slips over his face. Having known this man for a decade, I can tell her response is not what he was expecting to hear. Royce may have his fun and games, but he definitely wouldn’t risk something at work if he weren’t at least a little taken with the woman, more than for a quick fuck on her desk.

  “No? Are you sure?” I ask again to be certain she’s not hung up on a certain brother of mine.

  Rochelle smooths her hair down on each side before responding. “Roy and I are compatible physically, but his life is in Massachusetts; mine is in California. A few fantastic fucks is all either of us can offer one another. Right, handsome?” She smiles and winks in his direction.

  Royce licks his kiss-swollen lips and jerks his chin up at her. “Right, Chellie. And you’re one fantastic fuck.” His voice is guarded, but the choice of words is meant to pierce the woman’s steely veneer.

  The barb hits and rolls right off her chest. No wound can be found. “See, no issue here. Parker, I understand you want to go over the list of men?” she asks me
, her eyes lighting up in the process. “I admit, I am excited. It’s kind of like Christmas, but instead of unwrapping a present, I’m unwrapping my future husband.” She brings her hands to her chest in a little show of cheer.

  My God, was I this callous about sexual relations in the past? I mean, I had my man whore days for sure, especially after Kayla screwed me over, but I’m convinced any woman I bedded since those days knew the score. Sophie definitely knew the parameters; hell, she helped set them. Royce does not. My gaze flickers to Roy, and my heart beats hard. He’s standing tall and seemingly unaffected, but I know better. He likes Rochelle. Likes her for more than what she is offering. This has to be a blow to his manhood. Silently, I chastise myself for being so careless toward women in the past. No more. Sky’s it for me. She’s changed me for the long haul. Now if I could only help my brother find the one.

  I remind Rochelle of our commitment while watching Royce brood silently. “We can’t promise marriage. Our goal is to set you up with the best possible match. It’s up to you to take any relationship further.”

  She waves her hand in the air. “I understand.”

  While I try to figure out how to smooth this situation over—one Rochelle is obviously not seeing as a situation at all—Royce adjusts his jacket and attitude, becoming the perfectly poised professional, and heads over to the door.

  “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to meet with Keehan and go over some of the things we found last night. Give him the list of the five people we need to investigate further regarding the missing funds.”

  Rochelle smiles wide. “Excellent idea. Thanks, Roy.” She bats her eyelashes as if nothing’s happened. She really is a smooth operator and a hard-and-fast workaholic, treating her request for a mate as a business transaction and nothing more. And I thought I was bad. Rochelle puts the entire IG team to shame when it comes to work ethic. Morals, however, may be an entirely different story. The woman can blatantly bang a business associate on her desk, try for more in the morning, and brush it off as though she’s dismissing a second cup of coffee.

  I don’t think I could be so brash, but I search my memory bank, pretty sure I’ve been rather douche-like in my past. When Kayla ruined what we had, I definitely dipped my wick in a lot of women. Many whose names I can’t recall. Again, these were club and bar hookups. They got out of me what I got out of them. Royce wants more. Keehan wants more.

  It makes me wonder if I’m going to be able to make her see the truth. Help her figure out that what she truly needs is something she’s had all along.

  On top of my budding concern about whether or not I’ll be able to fully help this client with what we’ve been tasked to do, I’m worried about my brother. He hasn’t put himself out there in a long time. This might be a huge blow to his confidence he doesn’t need. At least with me, Royce can be honest and let his displeasure show, but having to hold it back because of the job . . . I don’t know how that’s going to go over long term. I hope he sees the situation for what it is. A hookup.

  Royce bails before I can say anything to him, which is probably best. We’ll catch up later once the burn cools.

  “Ready?” Rochelle asks, the excitement she mentioned before coming off her in waves of electric energy.

  “As I’ll ever be.” I smile tiredly as I sit on the couch near her desk, and with a few taps on my tablet to mirror it on her monitor, a picture of a black man in his early thirties appears on the screen. Rochelle sits up, brings her knees together, and sets her chin on her propped hands.

  “Michael Conway. Software developer in Silicon Valley. Freelance. Has created successful apps that work with the emergency response network in the area. Income annually is in the low six figures, but has solid investments.”

  “Family?”

  “Divorced. No kids.”

  “Really? He’s either been hurt before or was the one doing the hurting.”

  “Is that important? Do you have a preference either way?” I go right for the jugular, wanting her to feel a twinge of remorse, especially after the shenanigans she inadvertently pulled on Roy. Inadvertent may be too generous of a word, because I don’t think it’s possible that Rochelle does anything without thinking through every possible outcome. It’s definitely the way I would and did handle a business hookup. Except with Sophie—I respected and cared enough about the woman to form a platonic relationship after the fact.

  “Just taking this seriously. My future depends on it. If he’s been hurt, he’ll be more likely to not hurt me. Right?”

  It’s sad, but she’s right, and I’m not surprised to see her taking this seriously, asking the questions that are truly important to her, regardless of any potential judgment. I respect the ballsy approach. It’s obviously gotten her far in her professional life, but less so in her personal. Hopefully I can fix that.

  I click my tongue and pull up his file to scan it once more. Once I find the nugget I’m looking for—thank you, Wendy, world’s greatest assistant—I offer it up. “According to the county recorder’s office, his wife filed for a marriage license a week after their divorce was finalized three years ago.”

  She makes a sour face and pouts. “Poor, sexy man.”

  I flick to the next image. “Sean White. Recently retired from professional baseball. Already secured a job as coach of the San Francisco State University team.”

  “Pass. I have zero desire to go to college baseball games or any sports-related events of any kind. Ever.”

  “You sure? His mother has passed, which means no annoying mother-in-law, and he was cheated on by his last two groupie girlfriends, which means he’ll be loyal to you.”

  She shakes her head. “Again, Parker, I have no desire to watch, talk, or deal with a jock in any shape or form. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I dated a professional ballplayer. They are angry when you don’t want to go to games, angry when you want them to shut it off and spend time with you, angry when you know very little of the sport or don’t root for a team. Jocks need to be off the list.”

  Angry when you don’t spend time with them.

  Flashes of midnight studying spells where Kayla would walk out in a sexy nightie, wanting me to stop prepping for finals and, instead, spend time making her feel good come to mind. Those nights would kill me. It seemed every time I had something crucial to prep for, she’d pull her “you’re not paying any attention to me” bullshit. I’d spend half the evening making her feel worshipped, and the other half pouring coffee down my throat and going to class bleary eyed and sleep deprived. All for what? A woman who was getting herself some from not one but two different men. Making sure her future was shiny and bright with at least one of us to take care of her.

  With a scowl, I bring up the next image. “Done. What about a man in finance?” I ask, even though the next candidate is not in finance but a firefighter.

  She looks at the monitor. “He’s hot.”

  “He’s a fireman.” I point to him. He has cornrows tightly braided to his scalp in what seems to be a perfect quarter inch apart. His smile is wide, and based on his bio and evaluation, he’s the most down-to-earth gentleman of the bunch. Still, I need to get her to think about someone a bit closer to home. Someone who is already ass-over-dick in love with her. “What about a man who shares your profession?”

  She shrugs. “Would make things a lot easier at functions and work events.”

  “This guy has a big family, but they’re on the East Coast, so you’d likely have to visit only on holidays, anniversaries, etc.”

  “Nice. Keep him in the mix for sure.”

  I flick the button to bring the next image on the screen.

  “Damn . . . you’ve got some striking men. Kudos to you.” Her dark eyes light up at the image before her.

  I grin. The man is wearing glasses similar to what Keehan wears and looks a lot like the guy. Similar skin tone and close-cropped black hair, except Keehan is usually clean shaven and this man has a goatee and thin mustache. The image is
his professional headshot Wendy pulled off the UC Davis website, so he’s in his standard white coat and wearing a hospital badge. She can’t be visually attracted to this man and not be attracted to Keehan. It’s aesthetically impossible.

  “Doctor. Head of emergency medicine at UC Davis.”

  “Nice. Busy guy. Wouldn’t have a problem with me working all the time because he’d be working all the time. We could meet at home long enough to share a meal, take a roll between the sheets, and sleep. Having a doctor on my arm would be lovely at parties.”

  “If he doesn’t have an emergency. Apparently, that’s his reason for not having a mate. He goes on plenty of dates, but most of the time, he’s also on call and has to leave the woman hanging.”

  She tips her head. “Not a big deal for me. I’d likely never have the time for the date in the first place.” Her corresponding laughter rings out.

  Hell, that reminds me. When was the last time I took Skyler on a bona fide date? The Italian restaurant and show. Unless you count the royal wedding we attended together. Skyler deserves some romance. A candlelit dinner, a walk along the beach . . . something that will make my girl feel as special as she makes me feel. I make a mental note to have Wendy send her some flowers, which has me wondering what her favorite flower is.

  I’m a shit boyfriend. I see my woman enough to eat, sleep, and fuck her most of the time. We need a change. The idea of her moving to Boston sends a little thrill up my spine, weaves its way around my neck and face until I’m sporting a huge smile. My mother and Wendy would love getting to know Skyler better.

  Rochelle’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Uh, hello? Next guy.” Rochelle laughs.

  Instead of changing the screen, I lean forward and make a show of scrutinizing the photo. “Man, this guy reminds me of someone . . .” I put the carrot out and hope she takes a bite.

  Her eyes narrow, and then, out of nowhere, a huge smile spreads across her cheeks. “Oh my God! You’re right. He looks like Keehan! Down to the glasses and all.” She laughs.

  This is my chance to plant a seed.