Men at Work: Through the Roof / Taking His Measure / Watching It Go Up. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ He felt…worthless.

      And though he loved Marina, she was hands-down the most expensive woman he’d ever dated. Her idea of saving money was to go stay at the Paris Ritz for only three weeks, instead of a full month.

      She economized by getting a ten percent discount on an entire case of Cristal, instead of buying eleven bottles at full cost. Or buying couture off the rack and having it tailored to her body, instead of commissioning a gown from scratch.

      She didn’t deliberately rub her money into his face—never. It was simply that she’d never lived any other way, so she didn’t have a clue how other people managed.

      Marina had a huge heart, and she gave away twenty times what she spent, but still…

      He thought about Miami’s Reston Humane Society, the RestonChildren’s Hospital in Palm Beach, the Reston Alzheimer’sResearch Facility in Boca Raton. The countrywide Frameworksfor the Future, an organization that built homes for the needy,which was Reston Foundation-funded.

      Speaking of Frameworks for the Future, when was that calendar shoot Marina had talked him in to doing? He’d have to call the foundation and talk to Liz Olmos, the administrator. Because he sure as hell wasn’t calling Marina—even though he’d felt guilty at her distraught messages. She needed to forget him.

      Ben knew that a man was more than the money he made, but he felt like a failure in the face of Marina’s wealth. And he couldn’t be her husband—or anyone else’s—when he was a failure.

      MARINA HAD no problem combining business with pleasure. Why not run numbers while naked and slathered with rosemary-peppermint oil?

      She shrewdly eyed the column of figures a foot beneath her face and, once again, examined the total. It was off. She knew it in her bones. And she knew who was responsible.

      “Ms. Reston,” Manuel said as he kneaded her lower back and the tops of her glutes, “you shouldn’t be going over accounts right now. The point of a massage is to relax.”

      “I know, sweetie, but I need to figure out what’s wrong here. I don’t mind giving money away to worthy causes, but I get very bent out of shape when someone’s skimming funds for their own personal use.”

      “Someone’s stealing from you?”

      “I’m getting that feeling. Unfortunately, it happens every couple of years. Somebody I employ makes the mistake of thinking that I won’t notice, that I’m stupid or careless simply because I like to shop and have my hair done. Can you imagine?”

      Manuel coughed. “No, ma’am.”

      She eyed him a bit suspiciously and then drummed her polished fingernails on the Excel printout, which lay on top of a rolling stool under her nose. It was a little difficult to see with her face mashed into the padded, doughnutlike head support of the massage table, but the hole in the middle did enable her to do some work even under Manuel’s expert ministrations.

      He worked magic on her muscles, but she couldn’t relax. The person skimming funds was a single mom. A hard worker. Someone struggling to make ends meet.

      She’d had no problem having the cokehead intern arrested when he’d raided the petty cash to fund his habit. But this?

      Marina continued to study the figures and traced a pattern. Her employee skimmed funds only once per month, as if before some bill were due. Hmm…

      Though she could examine numbers this way, the tricky part was when her cell phone rang. Logistically, it was impossible to talk to anyone with her face mashed into a padded doughnut. “Manuel, darling, would you look at the LCD display on my phone and see who’s calling? Thank you. You’re a gem.”

      “G K Investigations,” reported Manuel.

      Marina scrambled up so fast that the sheet covering her body dropped to the floor. Manuel blushed like a tomato—she was naked as a jaybird and on all fours, butt in the air. Mama would be so proud.

      Manuel averted his eyes and bent to retrieve the sheet while she sat down hastily and crossed everything she could cross to hide her nudity.

      Eyes glazed over, he practically threw the sheet at her, and she said, “Excuse me, but I have to take this.” She smiled apologetically. Who knew? Manuel wasn’t gay.

      Still scarlet-faced, he nodded and left the room. Marina pressed the On button of her phone. “Hello?”

      “Ms. Reston? This is Gina Keys. I’ve located Mr. Delgado.”

      A sob rose in Marina’s throat. Then joy shot through her veins. “He’s okay?”

      “He’s just fine.”

      Fury chased the joy. “Where is he? I’m going to go wring his neck. I’m going to gouge out his eyes with his engagement ring…” There she went with those cheery fantasies again.

      “Ms. Reston, I’m afraid I can’t tell you his location.”

      “What? What do you mean? I paid you up front to find him!”

      Gina cleared her throat. “Perhaps I should have explained this before. For liability reasons, I can’t directly give you information on his whereabouts. What I can do is personally contact him and inform him that you would like to speak to him.”

      “He knows damn well I want to speak to him. I’ve left nine messages on his cell phone! And what is this liability stuff?”

      “I can be brought up on criminal charges, Ms. Reston, if I tell you where he is and you, say, show up with a shotgun and blow him away.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t own a shotgun.”

      “A letter-opener, arsenic, a crossbow, a high-heeled shoe. I can’t take the chance—you did mention in my presence that you wanted to kill him. Twice, I believe.”

      “I was kidding!”

      “That’s beside the point.”

      “What is he doing? Can you tell me that?”

      “I suppose so,” Gina said cautiously. “He’s working construction.”

      “What? Why?”

      “I don’t know, Ms. Reston. You’ll have to ask him that.”

      “Where is he?” Marina moaned. “Please, please tell me. I have to find him.”

      “I really can’t give you Ben’s exact location. It’s not ethical for me to do that. But would you like to give me a message for him?”

      “Aaarrrgh!” said Marina.

      “Sorry, but that’s a bit hard to translate. How about a letter?”

      “I’ve had enough of letters, thank you very much.”

      “Oh. Right.”

      “Just tell him I’ve been worried sick and to please call me. It’s important. Do not СКАЧАТЬ