“Goodbye, Mr. Killion.” But he had already disconnected.
Irritated by his abrupt behavior, Alice glanced at the time. The conversation had taken under two minutes because he assumed he could find the solution without any input from her. Either he believed she was incompetent or he had a high opinion of his own abilities.
However, her annoyance abated slightly when she realized that Derek Killion’s dismissive attitude meant that her tea would still be drinkable.
After she’d poured milk into her mug and added the tea and sugar, she carried it to her desk. Moving her gray tabby cat, Audley, the Earl of Worth, off her keyboard, she ran a search on Derek Killion. When an array of photos—mostly from feature articles in business magazines—came up on her screen, she gasped.
The consultant looked like one of her fantasy Regency dukes from her favorite romance novels, only in a business suit. It wasn’t just his cleft chin or razor-sharp cheekbones. He projected that bone-deep confidence that only spectacular success—or generations of aristocracy—could imbue a man with. The tilt of his head stated that he had conquered the world, and his blond-streaked brown hair waved away from his forehead with a gloss and thickness that spoke of generations of good DNA.
In one photo, his head was turned so she could see the haughty slash of his nose as well. She peered at it more closely. Yup, a small bump marred its straight line, as though it had once been broken. That made her feel better somehow.
His bio said he was in his early thirties. Far younger than she had expected of a founding partner in such an elite firm. Although she’d never aspired to the heights Derek Killion had attained, she’d once hoped to join a major accounting firm and work her way up through the ranks with talent and hard work. Those dreams had been derailed when her stepfather lost her college fund in one of his many unsound investments. Derek’s achievements were a sharp contrast to what felt like her failure.
She pushed the depressing thought away and scrolled to another photo that showed him in a tuxedo at some charity event. A wave of longing swamped her. She would never be swept off her feet by a handsome duke, but Derek Killion would make an excellent stand-in. She imagined those long legs of his encased in close-fitting buckskin breeches, his broad shoulders stretching the wool of a tailcoat, and a perfectly tied neckcloth emphasizing his strong jawline. Her eyelids fluttered closed for a moment as she pictured waltzing with him in a crowded ballroom. A languorous curl of desire licked through her, shocking her into opening her eyes and sitting up straight.
Shaking her head to clear the image out, she took a sip of her tea and gave her cat a pet. “Let’s face it, Audley; he’ll pass my case off to some underling and I’ll never hear from him again.”
Which should be fine with her. Her mother, a former model, had taught her valuable lessons about the pain of loving someone beautiful. Gabrielle had been disappointed in Alice practically from the moment she was born because her daughter’s looks were nothing more than ordinary. A teenage Alice had once made the mistake of asking her stunning mother whether she thought Alice was pretty. Gabrielle had considered her daughter for a long moment before saying, “You look intelligent.”
The memory still hurt.
She shoved it away and looked back at the web page of photos. Derek Killion might be a founding partner of KRG but she bet that his main job was to be the face of the company, making his clients feel special when he bestowed that dazzling smile on them or tilted that handsome head to listen to their concerns.
Then he would hand over the job to some subordinate, who would do the real work while Derek Killion took all the credit and waltzed off to the next sales call.
“Nope, I don’t need someone like you, even in my fantasies,” she said, closing the web page with a decisive stab on her mouse.
But she wished she’d thought to ask the impatient Mr. Killion how long he expected the project to take. March was flying past, and her stomach clenched at the thought of finding another mistake in her clients’ books.
Chapter 2
Alice was settling into the chair at the Mane Attraction, her just-shampooed hair twisted up in a clip, when her minuet ringtone wafted up from her handbag where it sat in a basket on the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said to Natalie, the salon’s elegant blonde owner, who held a lavender cape in her hand, ready to drape it over Alice. “It’s a business call.”
Alice plucked the phone from her purse and answered. “Thurber Bookkeeping.”
“Ms. Thurber, I’m Barbara Ryan, Derek Killion’s assistant.” Alice recognized her voice. “Mr. Killion apologizes for inconveniencing you on a weekend, but he wonders if you might be available to meet with him on Saturday.”
Shock held Alice silent for long enough to notice the blow-dryers buzzing around her. “Where?”
“Wherever you would prefer to meet. Your office, perhaps?” Barbara said.
“I . . . Why?” Alice stammered, walking into the restroom and closing the door to get away from the salon noise. She leaned her hip against the lavender sink.
“I believe he would like to review the hard copies of the transactions with you.”
Alice straightened away from the sink abruptly. Now Derek Killion wanted to look at all the paperwork? “I, well, I suppose he could come to my home office. I have all the paperwork there.”
She rubbed her forehead, trying to imagine the lofty and gorgeous Mr. Killion parked at her Ikea desk with Sylvester and Audley looking on. She loved her new office furniture but it wouldn’t stack up to the kind of luxury a founding partner was accustomed to. Unfortunately, parts of her body that had nothing to do with her brain were tingling with anticipation at the thought of actually meeting with him face-to-face. It was insane to react so strongly to a bunch of photographs. And a deep baritone resonating through the phone.
“Would ten o’clock work for you?” Barbara nudged.
“Sure. Ten o’clock.” She was thinking of all the housecleaning she’d have to do before his arrival. Her clients did not come to her office; she went to theirs and picked up their paperwork.
“Is the address the one on the input form from the website?”
“Yes, that’s right.” She would have to borrow another card table from Natalie to have extra space to spread out the papers for Mr. Killion.
“Excellent. Mr. Killion will see you then. Thank you again for taking time out of your weekend.” And Barbara was gone.
Would Mr. Killion expect her to serve him lunch? Was he allergic to cats? Did she have extra vacuum bags so she could go over everything twice in her town house? She’d have to clean two floors since her office was located upstairs in what was intended to be a bedroom for a child or guests. That’s why she’d bought the two-bedroom model in the new development on the outskirts of Cofferwood.
She flung open the door of the restroom and marched back to the chair, determined not to let Killion’s looks or position intimidate her. “I apologize for making you wait, Natalie.”
The salon’s owner waved off the apology with a graceful gesture before she flipped the cape around Alice. “Your mouth was hanging open for a second there at the beginning of the call. Who was it? Or is it confidential?”
Alice squared her shoulders under the cape and glared at herself in the mirror as Natalie combed her long brown hair, carefully working out the tangles. “It was Derek Killion’s assistant.”