long drive home, alone, through darkness, having not skied, having not got a life, having not done anything different from what she’d been doing for years and years.
It was like she was an arrow, aiming for regret.
JOHNNY STOOD in front of the bank of windows overlooking the slopes, phone to his ear, staring at Juliette Jauntie’s ass.
Actually, the top edge of her underwear, which was peeking out as she leaned—or sprawled—forward across the darkened bar. It was red. Bright, fire engine red. Delicate. Lacey.
He dragged his gaze away and stared out the window at the brightly-lit winter night, listening to Dan relay his opinion of Juliette and the problems she’d caused, which were unsurprisingly similar to the judge’s opinions.
“I wouldn’t describe things as a problem,” Johnny said. Yet.
“So, what the hell is going on up there?” Dan demanded.
“We just have some questions.”
Silence. “‘We’?”
Against his better judgment, Johnny looked at her ass again. It was a very good ass. Round and lush, like her lips, which were red and full compared to the pale, sharply-defined beauty of the rest of her face.
He turned back to the window. “There were no lease agreements or detailed rent receipts.”
“Receipts?” snapped Dan. “ Receipts? What the fuck are receipts?”
“Things you give people when they pay you money.”
“From three years ago? Why the hell would they keep rental receipts from three years ago? Please.”
“Your valuation was dependent on rental income, Dan. She’s trying to trace it.”
“Fuck what she’s trying to do. That needs to be signed off by week’s end. Now she wants rent receipts and leases and a goddamned appraisal ? And you call me now to ask about it? What a pain in the ass.”
“Right. So, I need detailed accounts receivables from the LLC and original lease agreements. Mrs. B thinks you might have them. Yes? No? If no, then where?”
“Johnny, I have no fucking idea where they are. I’m not a bookkeeper. I’m a valuations expert, the judge’s friend, and the idiot who agreed to do their taxes. As a favor to the judge, I handled his wife’s LLC. I took the information he gave me, did their taxes, and made recommendations.”
“Yeah? One of them should have been to hold onto their receipts.”
“I’ll remember that next time,” Dan said coldly. “Is there anything else?”
Johnny looked across the room. Juliette was on the phone, pacing, her restless energy keeping her on the move. How it all fit inside that tight, sculpted body, he had no idea. Adding caffeine and sugar to the mix was probably a bad idea. It made her electric.
And whenever Johnny was near her, his body hummed.
“The receipts is what else, Dan,” he said slowly, turning to the window. “If you don’t have them, I can ask the judge.”
Silence met this.
“Johnny,” Dan said slowly, “we’re in the middle of three buy-out investigations for multi-million dollar corporations. I’m on the Sandler-Ross account right now, negotiating one of them. Seven of our corporate clients have a fiscal year-end starting Friday. Tax season is about to begin. And you’re dicking around on this small time case, on what is obviously a delaying tactic by some kiss-ass art lawyer who’s way out of her league. I’ll bet she asked this Jauntie character to ask every question she could to slow things down, trying to wring more money out of Don.” He paused, then said, “Look, they don’t like the valuation, fine, we’ll change it.”
Johnny’s eyebrows lifted a centimeter.
“Just get the hell out of there. Don’t waste any more time on this. If it goes to court, we’ve got it. I’ve had twenty years of experience. Everyone knows my name. They can’t even spell hers. Go home, okay? We have real work to do. Know what I mean?”
Johnny looked across the room again. Juliette was pacing. Her ponytail hung in a sleek
It was like she was an arrow, aiming for regret.
JOHNNY STOOD in front of the bank of windows overlooking the slopes, phone to his ear, staring at Juliette Jauntie’s ass.
Actually, the top edge of her underwear, which was peeking out as she leaned—or sprawled—forward across the darkened bar. It was red. Bright, fire engine red. Delicate. Lacey.
He dragged his gaze away and stared out the window at the brightly-lit winter night, listening to Dan relay his opinion of Juliette and the problems she’d caused, which were unsurprisingly similar to the judge’s opinions.
“I wouldn’t describe things as a problem,” Johnny said. Yet.
“So, what the hell is going on up there?” Dan demanded.
“We just have some questions.”
Silence. “‘We’?”
Against his better judgment, Johnny looked at her ass again. It was a very good ass. Round and lush, like her lips, which were red and full compared to the pale, sharply-defined beauty of the rest of her face.
He turned back to the window. “There were no lease agreements or detailed rent receipts.”
“Receipts?” snapped Dan. “ Receipts? What the fuck are receipts?”
“Things you give people when they pay you money.”
“From three years ago? Why the hell would they keep rental receipts from three years ago? Please.”
“Your valuation was dependent on rental income, Dan. She’s trying to trace it.”
“Fuck what she’s trying to do. That needs to be signed off by week’s end. Now she wants rent receipts and leases and a goddamned appraisal ? And you call me now to ask about it? What a pain in the ass.”
“Right. So, I need detailed accounts receivables from the LLC and original lease agreements. Mrs. B thinks you might have them. Yes? No? If no, then where?”
“Johnny, I have no fucking idea where they are. I’m not a bookkeeper. I’m a valuations expert, the judge’s friend, and the idiot who agreed to do their taxes. As a favor to the judge, I handled his wife’s LLC. I took the information he gave me, did their taxes, and made recommendations.”
“Yeah? One of them should have been to hold onto their receipts.”
“I’ll remember that next time,” Dan said coldly. “Is there anything else?”
Johnny looked across the room. Juliette was on the phone, pacing, her restless energy keeping her on the move. How it all fit inside that tight, sculpted body, he had no idea. Adding caffeine and sugar to the mix was probably a bad idea. It made her electric.
And whenever Johnny was near her, his body hummed.
“The receipts is what else, Dan,” he said slowly, turning to the window. “If you don’t have them, I can ask the judge.”
Silence met this.
“Johnny,” Dan said slowly, “we’re in the middle of three buy-out investigations for multi-million dollar corporations. I’m on the Sandler-Ross account right now, negotiating one of them. Seven of our corporate clients have a fiscal year-end starting Friday. Tax season is about to begin. And you’re dicking around on this small time case, on what is obviously a delaying tactic by some kiss-ass art lawyer who’s way out of her league. I’ll bet she asked this Jauntie character to ask every question she could to slow things down, trying to wring more money out of Don.” He paused, then said, “Look, they don’t like the valuation, fine, we’ll change it.”
Johnny’s eyebrows lifted a centimeter.
“Just get the hell out of there. Don’t waste any more time on this. If it goes to court, we’ve got it. I’ve had twenty years of experience. Everyone knows my name. They can’t even spell hers. Go home, okay? We have real work to do. Know what I mean?”
Johnny looked across the room again. Juliette was pacing. Her ponytail hung in a sleek
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