“I have an idea,” she said, prompted by a powerful need to contribute to the project. “I’ll go talk to the hotel manager and see if he has more information on Barsky.”
“That could be useful.” Leland sounded as though he wasn’t convinced. “It’s worth a try, at least.”
“I’ll see if he’s on duty tomorrow.” The thought of doing a little corporate espionage sent a zing of excitement through her. Accounting was her passion, but it didn’t often provide an adrenaline rush.
“Once you talk with him, call me back at this number.” There was a brief pause. “I’ll be keeping Derek in the loop. He was very impressed with your analysis and expertise and will continue to be involved with the project.”
Pleasure spread through her like a warm, tropical tide. “That’s good to hear.” And Derek wasn’t just dumping her in Leland’s lap. He’d still be in touch. The pleasure burrowed into her chest.
Of course, it would all be by phone and email, but still . . .
“I look forward to hearing what the manager tells you.” Leland disconnected.
Alice stared at the screen and the columns of numbers that she hadn’t needed for her conversation with the tech wizard. She didn’t understand why he cared where and by whom the software was created. Either it had a bug or it didn’t.
Certainly, she had heard about Russian hackers but this wasn’t a security breach at some major corporation. This problem was about tiny amounts of money from a bunch of small businesses, some of which barely met payroll every month. Alice snorted. No Russian hacker would get rich off her clients.
She was still puzzling over this when her phone rang. This time the caller was Derek. A delicious shiver danced through her and she almost laughed. Her quiet Saturday night reading Georgette Heyer had become surreal with this barrage of phone calls from high-powered consultants.
“Thurber Accounting,” she said because she didn’t feel comfortable with a casual “Hi, Derek.”
“Alice, it’s Derek from KRG.”
“I know.”
There was a pause. “Then why the . . . never mind. Leland said he spoke with you.”
She could hear the honk of a horn in the background. He must be in a car, probably in the city. She hoped his date didn’t mind him discussing business in the middle of their night out.
“He had a lot of unusual questions.”
“He said you were going to talk with the hotel manager. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you doing that.”
“Well, Leland needed information that I didn’t have, so I figured out a way to potentially get it.” And to keep herself involved with Derek.
“But if this involves the kind of people Leland thinks it might, they could get upset about being accused of making a programming error.” Derek’s voice held an edge of worry. “They might go after you, try to ruin your professional reputation.”
She couldn’t decide whether to be touched by his concern or annoyed that he thought she couldn’t face down a pissed-off programmer.
“Myron Barsky didn’t strike me as the reputation-destroying type.” She thought of the thick-framed glasses that kept slipping down his nose and the shaggy hair that curled up at the ends. He had rounded shoulders, probably from too much time at the computer. “In fact, I think he would be grateful to learn about the bug. I certainly would appreciate being informed about it, if I were him. I’d want to fix it as soon as possible.”
An exhale came through the phone. “In a perfect world, that would be true. However, the people at BalanceTrakR may be aware of the problem but unwilling to invest in fixing it. We just don’t know enough yet. I don’t want your business to get hurt by this.”
Maybe he was genuinely concerned, but she thought he was overreacting. “Remember, I’m just talking to the hotel manager. I doubt he’ll call up BalanceTrakR to complain.”
“Let me deal with it.” The tone of command vibrated through the phone.
Now she was beginning to feel patronized. “Your partner believes I’m capable of handling it myself.”
A brief silence. “Leland is very focused on solving the problem,” Derek said with what she could tell was a carefully worded answer. “He doesn’t always worry about the fallout.”
“Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not a good idea,” Derek persisted. “I can get out there on Tuesday.”
“Yes, but I can do it tomorrow.” Although she was tempted to agree with his plan so she could see him again. But that was not a good idea either, since she kept picturing him in Mr. Beaumaris’s skintight riding breeches.
She thought she heard a huff of frustration coming through the phone. “Text me as soon as you’re done,” he said with a snap.
“I will,” she snapped back.
“I’m sorry.” His tone was rueful. “Leland shouldn’t have bothered you on a Saturday night. I hope he didn’t interrupt your plans.”
“Well, he did,” Alice said with a half smile as she remembered her intention to finish Arabella in one sitting. “But I don’t mind.” After all, it had gotten her a bonus phone call from Derek.
A pause. “I trust your plans can be returned to.”
She thought about her book lying on the couch where she’d dropped it facedown before racing off to change her clothes for Leland’s call. “Yup, not a problem.”
“In that case, good night, my clever bookkeeper.” He disconnected before she could respond.
My clever bookkeeper. She propped her head on her hands and slipped into a delicious dream where Derek called her other, more intimate things with “my” in front of them, generally while both of them were wearing very little clothing.
Chapter 5
The next morning, Alice pulled on taupe trousers and a pale peach blouse before slipping her feet into medium-heeled brown pumps. Only she knew that she wore peach silk-and-lace lingerie underneath, although she found herself wishing Derek knew too.
She banished the thought with some difficulty before she checked the mirror. With her hair tucked back in a neat ponytail, she projected exactly the image she wanted to: a single-practice bookkeeper just trying to track down some software she didn’t buy the first time around but now wanted to look into. At least that was her cover story.
She had called the hotel to make sure the manager, Gary Woertz, was on duty, so she mentally ran through the questions Leland had posed as she drove the fifteen minutes to the Lipton Hotel.
She asked for the manager at the front desk. The clerk went from smiling to nervous so Alice reassured the young woman that she wasn’t there to complain about anything. Quite the contrary, in fact. The young—and evidently inexperienced—clerk was so relieved that she didn’t even ask for Alice’s name but just pointed her down a corridor to the manager’s office.
The door was open, so Alice knocked on the jamb before taking a step inside. The startled manager jumped up from his desk. “May I help you?”
Woertz had grown his pale blond hair out a couple of inches and spiked it with some sort of gel, but he wore the same too-large green blazer with a gold plastic name tag pinned to the pocket.