Pulled Under. Kelli Ireland

      Smart, she mused. Or it had been a lucky guess. “As I said, the letter explains everything.”

      His eyes roved over her and she had the distinct impression he was using the borderline rude action to buy time to formulate his response. Too bad she didn’t feel like accommodating him.

      Releasing her hands so they hung by her side, she blinked slowly. “This conversation has been great, but I have to speak to the manager on duty. Now.”

      “I manage the dancers, and I’m the only one here. You’ll have to make do with me.”

      His lie decided her course of action. He’d implied he was nothing more than a midlevel manager. She needed access to the files as soon as possible if she was going to close this case, so they’d play it his way. “Your day just gets worse and worse, doesn’t it? First, I’d like to see the operating ledgers, as well as P&L statements for the last three years. Digital or paper copies will be fine. Current and past employee files would be helpful, too.”

      “I don’t actually work in this department.”

      And there it is. The first blatant, outright lie. She’d learned that the guilty regularly manipulated the truth into something they thought would offer them the most hope of escape. Knowing this firsthand didn’t squelch the sting of disappointment that he’d followed the pattern, though. She had...what? Hoped he might be honorable?

      “Get over yourself,” she muttered softly enough he didn’t hear her.

      He looked over his shoulder at the large wall clock. “I’m guessing everyone has gone to lunch. If you want to come back in an hour or so, I can get you in touch with the general manager, Kevin Metcalf. He’ll be able to help you with whatever you need.”

      “I’m not leaving until I see those files. I have my own computer, but I’ll need access to a dedicated printer and copier.” He looked at her blankly, and she sighed. “Do you have any idea where the P&Ls or ledgers might be?”

      He sighed. “I’ll have to make a couple of calls.”

      “Feel free, but I’m within my jurisdiction to begin my investigation even without your help. It’ll save both of us a lot of time if you’d point me in the right direction.”

      He shifted to sit on the desk behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Should I obtain legal representation?”

      Harper strolled to the desk opposite Levi and leaned a hip against it, considering him. “You’re free to do so, but retaining an attorney won’t stop me from looking over company files and copying relevant paperwork. Even a court-ordered injunction won’t be enough. The IRS has authority in this investigation, Mr. Walsh.”

      His eyes flashed even as his lips thinned. “You’re making it very hard for me to want to comply.”

      She lifted one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug meant to irritate. “Not my problem.” For some reason, needling him was entertaining. “My job is to uphold the law and execute the actions detailed in that letter.”

      “Nice.” He ripped the envelope open, scanned the letter and made a very visible effort to keep himself from reacting. When he looked up, he’d mastered his emotions again. “I’m going to make those calls before I give you the proverbial keys to the kingdom. You can wait here or outside.” He shoved off the desk and stalked to a tiny room off the reception area, not waiting for her response before slamming the door behind him.

      “I’ll be right here,” she murmured. He had an air about him, a subtle confidence she found inexplicably attractive.

      Reminding herself what was at stake, she began mentally cataloging the office. Digging into her briefcase, she pulled out her iPad and began tapping in visible inventory and taking supporting pictures. Seven desks with one computer each, yet none of the desks had any paperwork on them, save for the very first desk, where the sole phone rested. There were four printers, only one of which was actually plugged in. The others had a faint covering of dust and a general air of disuse. Interesting.

      Logging it all, she wandered through the desks, randomly opening drawers and searching for any signs of use. Again, only the first desk seemed occupied.

      “Who sits here?” she called out.

      Levi emerged from the small office, smartphone pinned between his ear and shoulder as he flipped through the letter. “Sure. That makes sense.” He paused, glancing at her as he spoke. “No, she’s not the most agreeable person I’ve ever met.” He laughed. “You’d think, but it appears she’s unaffected by my many charms.” Another laugh. “Yeah, well, some women are completely immune to men.”

      Harper blinked slowly. “Are you implying I’m a lesbian simply because I’m not falling at your feet and begging you to take me?”

      He stopped, his gaze heating as it roamed over her body. As he pulled the cell phone from his shoulder, one corner of his mouth kicked up in a roguish smile. “Nope, but I would say you let your professional ambitions ruin any fun you might have. Probably ever.”

      Marcus had accused her of being too ambitious, too anxious to push the next project. He’d claimed she’d been domineering and that had driven him to seek true feminine solace with their company’s receptionist. That’s when she’d realized how stupid she’d been—made even more painfully obvious when she, Marcus and their other partner, Vigo, were arrested for embezzlement and fraud.

      But she wasn’t that gullible kid anymore. Her successes were hers. A woman in a man’s world, she wasn’t about to apologize for her professional drive or explain to Levi that she had plenty of fun. She’d prove it to him.

      She let one corner of her mouth curl up. “Tell me, Levi. If you don’t work in this particular department, where do you work?”

      “I’m employed by the club.” His eyes tightened at the admission, revealing the very early markers of crow’s-feet. “Why?”

      She crossed her arms under her breasts, and his gaze dropped to the glimpse of cleavage the button-up shirt exposed. “I’m wondering how Beaux Hommes most benefits from your particular brand of charm, unpolished as it is.” She blinked slowly. “I’d assume whatever you do doesn’t require much talking.”

      Shifting his attention to somewhere over her shoulder, he snorted. “Forget it, Ms. Banks. I’m not stupid enough to bait this particular dragon. I’m just trying to supplement my income.”

      “So is Beaux Hommes your regular source of income?”

      He eyed her with open distrust. “Sort of.”

      “Do you dance to earn that income?” she asked, coquettishly tipping her head to one side. “That would require mastery of seduction.”

      Levi scowled at her and tugged his collar. “I’m actually...”

      Harper held her breath. She’d opened the door for him, giving him an easy way to offer her the truth.

      He dropped his hands to his waist and looked at the floor. “I am a dancer. The lead dancer, actually. I got into it to support my parents after...after they...” He stumbled to a conversational halt. “What I earn here helps them out.”

      She shifted from foot to foot. Something about his answer, the way he tripped over it, bothered her. “What happened with your parents, Levi?”

      Lifting his chin, he considered her before laughing again, decidedly softer this time. “I’m not interested in whatever angle you’re trying to work.” His face tightened. “As for my parents? Don’t go there. They’re off the table and off-limits. Period.”

      “I’m an IRS agent. I don’t work angles,” she bit out, “and I go where I have to go.” His response only made her more curious, more concerned. But pitying this man or his parents wasn’t going to close the case.

      Irritation