A High Stakes Seduction

A High Stakes Seduction
Jennifer Lewis

In USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Lewis's latest, love is a gamble between polar opposites…Meet Constance Allen: no-nonsense, by the books…innocent. The aboveboard accountant is on a mission to make sure the New Dawn casino's finances are legit, and maybe even get a promotion…until the millionaire owner seduces the socks off her. Now the conflict of interest threatens her very livelihood, yet she just can't help it!Blindsided, John Fairweather never expects a little flirting with the auditor to get so serious so fast. But when her investigation turns up a smoking gun, will all bets be off for their fledgling affair?

What was happening?

Her brain wouldn’t form thoughts at all, but her mouth had no trouble responding to his.

Heat rushed through Constance to her fingers, which were suddenly on the soft cotton of his shirt. She felt his hands on her back, his touch light and tender. His tongue met hers, sending a jolt of electricity to her toes.

The stubble on his chin scratched her skin slightly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their embrace. She dug her fingers into the roping muscle of his back, plucking at his shirt as their lips moved together.

A humming sound startled them both and they broke the kiss. “My phone,” he murmured in a low voice. He didn’t reach for it. Still frowning slightly, he raised a thumb and smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek.

She blinked, wondering what had just happened. And why? “I really must …” She wasn’t even sure what she really must do. Go to bed? Take a cold shower? Throw herself out the window?

Did he really just kiss her?

A High Stakes Seduction

Jennifer Lewis

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. She would love to hear from readers at jen@jenlewis.com (mailto:jen@jenlewis.com). Visit her website at www.jenlewis.com (http://www.jenlewis.com).

For Dwnell

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS (#ulink_ddb85de4-3ee2-5f3b-8f8a-1a09ef330db4)

Many thanks to my editor Charles Griemsman.

Contents

Cover (#u5ea4cf5a-1849-5802-978c-4812dbe690c4)

Excerpt (#uc0739d61-513b-52d2-bf9b-2feda7bc9940)

Title Page (#ubcdeb8a6-a7a2-56dd-80f8-a0b976b2f72c)

About the Author (#u282e8323-d436-5f40-b11d-e07ced390c96)

Dedication (#u7add2e91-f9fc-5d23-b30d-b5f92d7f00e1)

Acknowledgments (#uaf1b3220-c5b6-5cae-b14c-9c4e4115b11b)

One (#u87ac0b16-f69b-5de3-8a54-46f3018ef7b8)

Two (#u8befd686-210a-51fd-8537-30f95b1282d6)

Three (#u5ed7c8d1-0b0c-5a0e-9c4d-34c956696594)

Four (#ua081f8f0-641c-57fe-8c7a-0757b597647e)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

One (#ulink_a0c79cb2-3a25-567e-b7a8-28072aebfb21)

“Just get rid of her as quickly as possible. She’s dangerous.”

John Fairweather scowled at his uncle. “You’re crazy. Stop thinking everyone’s out to get you.”

John didn’t want to admit it, but he too was rattled by the Bureau of Indian Affairs sending an accountant to snoop through New Dawn’s books. He glanced around the grand lobby of the hotel and casino. Smiling staff, gleaming marble floors, paying customers relaxing on big leather couches. There was nothing he didn’t love about this place. He knew everything was aboveboard, but still...

“John, you know as well as anyone that the U.S. government is no friend of the Indian.”

“I’m friendly with them. They gave us tribal recognition. We ran with it and built all this, didn’t we? You need to relax, Don. They’re just here to do a routine audit.”

“You think you’re such a big man with your Harvard degree and your Fortune 500 résumé. To them you’re just another Indian trying to stick his hand in Uncle Sam’s pocket.”

Irritation stirred in John’s chest. “My hand isn’t in anyone’s pocket. You’re as bad as the damn media. We built this business with a lot of hard work and we have just as much right to profit from it as I did from my software business. Where is she, anyway? I have a meeting with the contractor who’s working on my house.”

The front door opened and a young girl walked in. John glanced at his watch.

“I bet that’s her.” His uncle peered at the girl, who was carrying a briefcase.

“Are you kidding me? She doesn’t look old enough to vote.” Her eyes were hidden behind glasses. She stood in the foyer, looking disoriented.

“Flirt with her.” His uncle leaned in and whispered. “Give her some of the old Fairweather charm.”

“Are you out of your mind?” He watched as the woman approached the reception desk. The receptionist listened to her, then pointed at him. “Hey, maybe that is her.”