A Bride For The Brooding Boss. Bella Bucannon

of her cheek framed by shoulder-length light brown hair. If she hadn’t dropped her gaze, he’d also know the colour of her eyes.

      Shoot! He asked the caller to repeat the last two figures. Blocking her out, he carefully wrote them down. After ending the call, he clipped all the pages together, and dropped them into a tray.

      He could now concentrate on this woman, and her technical rather than physical attributes. Her employer’s high fees would be worth it if she found out what the heck had happened in the company’s computer system.

      ‘Ms Lauren Taylor?’ He pulled a new document forward.

      She turned, and guarded brown eyes met his.

      He immediately wished they hadn’t as a sharp pang of desire snapped through him and was instantly controlled. Women, regardless of shape, colouring or looks, were off his agenda for the foreseeable future. Probably longer. Betrayal made a man wary.

      ‘Yes.’ Hesitant with an undertone he didn’t understand.

      He’d requested her services on a recommendation, without any consideration of appearance or demeanour, which for him were unimportant. The female colleagues he’d associated with overseas were well groomed, very smart, and always willing to offer their opinions. His equal on every corporate level.

      Lauren Taylor was neatly dressed in a crisp white blouse under a light grey trouser suit, and wore little make-up. With her reputation, she ought to project confidence, yet he sensed apprehension. Was it a natural consequence of her temporary assignments or the confidentiality clause creating a desire to keep a distance from company employees?

      No, this ran deeper, was more personal. He cleared his thoughts, telling himself his sole interest was in her technical skills, conveniently discounting his two reactions towards her.

      ‘I’m Matt Dalton. I contacted your employer because I’m told you’re one of the best computer problem investigators. My friend’s description. Was he exaggerating?’

      A soft blush coloured her cheeks, and her eyes softened at the compliment. They were actually more hazel than brown with a hint of gold flecks, and framed by thick brown lashes. He growled internally at himself for again straying from his pressing predicament.

      ‘I don’t...I rarely fail.’ She made a slight twitch of her shoulders as if fortifying her self-assurance.

      He gave a short huff. ‘Please don’t let this be one of the times you do. How much information were you sent?’

      ‘The email mentioned unexplained anomalies a regular audit failed to clarify.’

      ‘Two, one internal, one external. The detectable errors were fixed but no one could explain the glitches or whatever they are, and I need answers fast.’ Before his father’s condition became public and the roof caved in.

      ‘May I see the reports?’ Again timidity, which didn’t fit the profile he’d received, though to give her credit she didn’t look away.

      ‘In the top drawer of the desk you’ll be using along with a summary of our expectations, file titles et cetera. I assume you can remember passwords.’

      She frowned, making him realise how condescending he sounded. Was he coming over as too harsh, overbearing? Her impression of him wouldn’t be good either.

      ‘Staff turnover has been high in the last two years, sometimes sudden with no changeover training. Recently I found out passwords had been written down and kept in unlocked drawers.’

      She waited, and he had the feeling he was being blamed for some personal misdemeanour. He decided he’d divulged as much as she needed to know to start. Anything else necessary, she’d learn as the assessment progressed.

      ‘Most of the errors were from incorrectly entered data, exacerbated on occasion by amateur attempts to fix them. Apparently not too hard to find and correct if you know what you’re doing.’

      ‘But surely the accountant...?’ Her hands fluttered then her fingers linked and fell back into her lap. ‘Why weren’t they picked up at the time?’

      Damn, she was smart. And nervous.

      ‘The long-term accountant left, and was replaced by a bookkeeper then another. Neither were very competent.’

      Her eyes widened in surprise. For a second there was a faint elusive niggling deep in the recesses of his mind. As her lips parted he forestalled her words.

      ‘I’d like you to analyse from July 2014 up to the present date. Everything your employer requested is in the adjacent office. How soon can you start?’

      Too abrupt again but it was imperative he find out what had been going on. The sooner the better. Four weeks ago, at his original inspection of his father’s company accounts, would have been best.

      ‘If I can see the set-up now then I can begin early tomorrow morning. Being a short week because of Easter doesn’t allow much time.

      ‘Are two days enough?’

      ‘Doubtful if I’m a last resort. I have a family commitment in Melbourne for the weekend then I’ll come back.’ She made it sound like an obligation rather than a pleasant reunion.

      ‘That’s acceptable.’ He flicked his hands then put them on the edge of the desk to push to his feet.

      ‘Human error and deliberate action are different. Is it the latter I’m searching for?’

      He sank back into his chair. She was too smart.

      Lauren had been in critical corporate situations before and recognised desperation, even when well hidden. This man was heading for breakdown. His taut muscles, firm set lips and weary dark eyes all pointed to extreme stress.

      And her question had irritated him so he definitely suspected fraud, probably by someone he’d trusted. She certainly wasn’t going to push it now. Not when she’d behaved like the skittish child she’d thought she’d conquered years ago.

      ‘I won’t make guarantees I might not be able to keep. I can only promise to do my best. Having the straightforward errors already adjusted helps.’

      He relaxed a little, and his lips curved at the corners, almost but not quite forming a smile.

      ‘Thank you.’

      He rose to an impressive height, letting his chair roll away, indicating a door to her left.

      ‘Through here.’

      Lauren picked up her shoulder bag and followed, wishing she were one of those women who were comfortable in killer heels all day. And an inch or two taller. Having to tilt her head gave him the advantage. When he suddenly stopped and turned, her throat tightened at the vague familiarity of his cologne. Not the same one, surely? Yet she recognised it, had never forgotten it. And this close, the lines around his mouth and eyes were much more discernible.

      ‘I apologise. I should have offered you a coffee. Do you—?’

      ‘No. No, thank you.’ The sooner she was out of his presence, the better. Then she could breathe and regroup. ‘You’re obviously busy.’

      His relief at such a minor point enforced her opinion of the strain he was under.

      ‘Like you wouldn’t believe. Any answers you find will be extremely welcome.’

      He opened the door and ushered her in, the light touch of his fingers on her back shooting tingles up and down her spine, spreading heat as they went. Unwarranted yet strangely exciting.

      The décor in the much smaller room matched his office, and included two identical armchairs by the window. But the position of the desk was wrong, standing out from the wall facing the door they’d entered. She walked round to check the two desktops and a keyboard, all wired up ready to go. He followed, stopping within touching distance.

      ‘Your employer asked for the duplication. Easier for comparisons, huh?’

      ‘Much.