then stepped out into the hallway. Riley turned his attention to his computer. The door closed, but he knew he wasn’t alone. Even the air stood at attention when Diane entered a room. He glanced at his assistant.
She wore yet another of her infamous tweed suits. A green one this time, with a fussy yellow blouse underneath. Her shoes were dark and sensible—the kind that frightened small children.
“Here are Becca Johnson’s loan documents,” he said, handing her the file. “Please see that they’re processed today and that the money is deposited in her account first thing in the morning.”
His assistant took the papers, but didn’t leave.
“You have something else on your mind?” he asked.
She stood there glaring at him. “I do. Your quarterly projections aren’t very detailed.”
“Is that a criticism?”
“It’s a statement of fact.” She glanced down at the file in her hand. “Funny how Ms. Johnson thinks she’s just been offered the chance to make her heart’s desire come true. If only she knew she’d made a deal with the devil.”
Riley leaned back in his chair. “And here I thought we’d agreed you would call me by my first name.”
Diane’s disapproving expression didn’t change. “How long does she have until her world comes crashing in on her? A month? Are you closing the bank the day after the election or will you wait until the results are certified?”
So, she’d figured it out. Riley wondered if the woman would find any satisfaction in knowing she was right.
“All the loans will be called,” she said. “Every single one. Do you know how many houses that is? How many businesses? You could destroy the town.”
Riley didn’t respond. Her gaze sharpened.
“Don’t you care?”
“Not one damn bit.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She turned on her heel and left.
Riley stared at the closed door. He refused to feel guilty about what he was going to do. If he won, the bank was history. If he didn’t, life would go on as before. Someone else would be brought in to run things.
Diane could destroy his chances, but she wouldn’t. She was from the old school—what happened within the sanctity of the workplace stayed there.
He closed the current program on his computer and accessed the databank. After typing in Diane’s name, he checked for any outstanding loans. There was one on a house. Per the balance, she only owed a few thousand dollars. Even if the bank closed, she would be fine. So what did she have to get so upset about?
Fifteen minutes later, he was halfway through the weekly loan reports when someone banged on his door. Riley looked up and frowned. Diane would never bang, even if she was furious with him, which she probably was.
“Come in,” he called.
The door opened and Gracie peeked around it, into the room. “Hey, it’s me.”
“I can see that.”
“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“Why don’t you come into the office and tell me both?”
“I could do that.”
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. After making her way to his desk, she placed a small pink box in the center and smiled.
“I made you a cake.”
She spoke with a combination of pride and embarrassment that made her cheeks flush. Or maybe they were flushed for another reason—he couldn’t be sure.
Her long blond hair hung down loose and sexy. She wore a short, summery kind of dress that emphasized curves. He was as human as the next man and certainly didn’t mind when an attractive woman wanted to spend a bit of her day with him. Even if that woman was an ex-crazed stalker. But that wasn’t what held him motionless in his seat.
Instead, it was the cake.
“I couldn’t sleep last night and after I’d worked on my decorations for what felt like forty-seven days I decided to do some baking. It’s white cake with a chocolate cream filling. The frosting’s—”
She kept on talking about the frosting and how she’d been unsure of the design, but he wasn’t paying attention. Not really.
His mother had made him cakes for his birthday, of course, but that had been the extent of her baking. She hadn’t been into it and he hadn’t cared. Since then, well, he wasn’t the kind of man women made cakes for.
“Aren’t you going to open it and look?” she asked impatiently.
“Sure.”
He flipped up the top and stared down at the white round cake decorated with a grinning skunk.
He laughed. “I’m impressed.”
“Good. Guys don’t do the flower thing and I don’t know what your hobbies are or anything. I thought the skunk would be funny. Want a taste?”
As she asked, she sank into the leather chair on the visitor side of his desk and dug into her oversized straw bag. She pulled out a wicked looking knife and paper plates in a big Baggie.
“You’re kidding,” he said. “You travel with a knife?”
“Sure.” She withdrew it from the protective cardboard covering. “You never know when you have to cut into a cake and take a taste. At least I don’t.” She handed him the knife, then dug around some more. “I seem to be out of forks.”
“I’ll make do. Want some?”
She shook her head. “I’ll take a taste if you’re worried about me poisoning you or something, but otherwise, no. There was that whole bread thing last night.”
“You only had one piece.”
“You haven’t seen my thighs.”
He had the sudden thought that he would like to. Very much. And maybe the rest of her.
Dangerous, dangerous territory. Better to cut into the cake.
He cut himself a piece and slid it onto a paper plate. She watched anxiously as he took a big bite.
The cake was soft and moist, with just the right texture and a delicate flavor he couldn’t place. The chocolate cream filling tasted like a mousse, but not completely.
“Excellent,” he said sincerely. “The best cake I’ve ever tasted.”
She visibly relaxed. “Good. I worked hard on perfecting my secret recipe, but every now and then, I like to test it out on an unbiased person.”
“You think I’d tell you the truth if I didn’t like your cake?”
“Why would you care about hurting my feelings? I mean with our past?”
“Good point.” He ate another bite of cake, then set the plate on his desk. “If the cake was the good news, what’s the bad?”
Gracie slumped in the seat and hung her head back. “Alexis. She called me in what felt like the predawn hours but was really only about ten to tell me that Zeke had forgotten his briefcase at home so she’d gone by his office to drop it off. In the process of performing her good deed, she walked in on Zeke having what looked like a very personal relationship with...” She paused, straightened and looked right at him. “Brace yourself.”
“I’m braced.”
“Pam.”
It took him a second. “Pam, my ex-wife?”
“One and the same.” Gracie leaned forward