Pulled Under. Kelli Ireland

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СКАЧАТЬ than that. He wasn’t a brainless body. If that’s what she thought, though? His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed.

      She was also with the IRS. He had a personal history with that arm of the government, which made defying her way more satisfying.

      “Enough with the evasive maneuvers. Give me the ledger, Mr. Walsh.” She tugged.

      His hands fisted, the letter crinkling in protest. “I’ll get it for you.” At least the one I intend to show you. “But for doing so, I’d appreciate little show of good faith.” Show... “Why don’t you come to the show tonight?”

      “I don’t... No,” she stammered. “That’s not my flavor of entertainment.”

      “How can you be sure? Have you ever been to a male revue?” He leaned back and waited.

      “Hand over the ledger, Mr. Walsh. And please put your clothes on again. It’s not appropriate for you to use your body as a deterrent to this investigation.”

      “Couple of big words in there for such a simple mind as mine.” He stood and slowly untied the string of his sweatpants, working the material down to expose the skin of one hip. “I’d think something like this would qualify as more of a deterrent than a simple bare chest.”

      “Cut it out, Levi,” she barked, twisting away from him. “I’m going to arrest you if you don’t cut the crap right now.”

      “I’m not impeding anything. I’ve invited you to the show tonight. I’ll get the ledger from...the owner I just spoke to and make copies for you. Besides, don’t you want to see firsthand how the club operates?” Leaning on the desk, he left his sweats riding low and tightened his abs, sure she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from looking.

      She spun further away, immediately proving him right.

      Tightening his glutes made his hips shift forward. “Ms. Banks?”

      Her eyes went to his groin right before a faint blush stole across her cheeks. “Stop it.”

      “If you want to see how we handle cash income, you have to come to a show and document our practices.” He straightened, tugging his pants up as he went. “I’m right, and you know it.”

      Harper shook her head. “What I know is that you’re pressing me to come watch you take your clothes off. What I don’t know is why. What do you hope to gain?”

      A chance. The answer popped into Levi’s head unbidden. Yes, he needed the chance to fix the ledgers. But there was also something about this woman that made him want her to have a little fun, even if it went against her better judgment. He and the guys specialized in good times.

      Considering her, he kept his gaze cool and detached. “I don’t expect to get anything out of it other than a fair chance to document the club’s business practices.” And to try to figure out what Kevin did to the damn ledger to make it look like a scratch pad for a first-year English major taking graduate-level accounting—before Harper gets to it.

      A fine sheen of sweat popped out on Levi’s upper lip and along his hairline. His stomach pitched and rolled like a dinghy in a violent storm. If she got her hands on the ledger, she could shutter the business. Which meant he was out of a job.

      While he didn’t count on stripping for his entire income, most of the money he made at the club went into his parents’ investment portfolio. He’d supported them since his dad, a third-generation farmer, had lost everything after four consecutive drought years. Then the corn subsidies dried up. His dad hadn’t been able to pay the taxes on the land, so the IRS had taken everything from him and auctioned it off to settle the debt. His dad, the man Levi had admired all his life, had been reduced to working at a fast-food restaurant while Levi’s mom had taken a job at a big-box store as a greeter.

      It enraged Levi. Here he was working his ass off to make sure his parents were taken care of, and the IRS showed up again. It struck him as far too personal. He’d watched his parents go through this once before, and he’d be damned if he’d watch it happen again.

      That meant he had to keep one IRS investigator otherwise occupied until he fixed Kevin’s daily accounts ledger. Levi was absolutely willing to flirt, even tease her a bit if it distracted Harper long enough. He wouldn’t seduce her, though. Even as much as he despised the IRS, there were some things a man just didn’t do, and using sex as a manipulative weapon was up there near the top of that list.

      Of course, if the club was guilty of fraud, he could be facing asset seizure and jail time. Levi would lose everything. His parents would lose everything all over again. No cost was too high to stop that from happening.

      “Mr. Walsh?” Harper asked, considering him. “You’re sweating. Did you spring an unexpected fever or is your conscience suddenly manifesting?”

      “My conscience is fine.” He swallowed, feeling more off balance than he had since she’d nearly caved in his skull with the door. “It’s hot in here.”

      “Considering you’re not wearing your shirt and the air-conditioning is running, I’m putting my money on conscience.” She tucked her hands in her skirt pockets. “What’s got you so worried?”

      “Nothing. I know the reporting practices are sound.” The lie slipped out without a thought.

      “If I come to the show tonight, you’ll bring me that ledger?”

      Without batting an eye, Levi held out a hand. “Agreed.”

      He watched the investigator from hell hesitate before reaching out and shaking his hand, her gaze both shrewd and wary. “That was a little too easy. If you’ve misled me in any way, I will discover it, Mr. Walsh. And when I do, I’ll prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law for impeding a federal officer in the execution of her duties. Are we clear?”

      His stomach plummeted even as he slowly locked stares with the one woman capable of making him hate his life. “Do your worst.”

      “Oh, I will,” she answered softly, picking up her briefcase and heading for the front door. “I will.”

      Levi had absolutely no doubt that she, at least, wasn’t hedging the truth.

       3

      HARPER COULD ONLY imagine the razzing she was going to get from the men in the office when they found out she’d gone to a show at Beaux Hommes. After all, she’d been pretty insistent she’d rather audit God than deal with muscle-bound men clad in G-strings and slathered in testosterone. Galling as it was, though, Levi had been right. The best way to see the club’s practices in action was to get inside during operating hours. So here she stood, assessing her wardrobe for clubbing attire.

      She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at irony’s sense of humor.

      Not having brought anything really appropriate for a night out, she was stuck piecing together what she could from her suitcase. One pair of low-slung skinny jeans, one pair of black platform heels and a white dress shirt with French cuffs proved the best she could do on short notice.

      She fully expected Levi to put his sensual talents to good use. The image of him pulling his shirt off and easing his pants down was seared СКАЧАТЬ