Playing Mr. Right. Kat Cantrell
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to investigate her reaction to Xavier as a man.
She had a core-deep desire to know things, and at this moment, Xavier topped the list.
“A bad, bad idea,” she repeated and crossed her fingers behind her back. “I solemnly swear that I will refrain from all double entendres, loaded statements and anything that could be construed as flirting while you and I are working so closely together.”
“I didn’t say we’d be working closely together,” he corrected, and all at once she wondered what it would take to get him well and truly rattled to the point of revealing something unintended.
If she hoped to dig up enough dirt for an exposé, she’d have to figure it out. Everyone had their tipping point and people had spilled secrets to her in the past, often before realizing it. Usually that happened after she’d gained a measure of their trust, though.
How ethical was it to seduce it out of someone? She’d never tried that particular method before and there was no way to deny the idea excited her. Which meant it really was a bad idea. But still viable. She needed more information before fully committing.
“Oh, come on. We just hashed that out. You’re in charge, I’m here to do exactly what you say but not sexually and we’re both going to ignore the chemistry. Where, exactly, did I lose you, Mr. LeBlanc?”
At that, he actually laughed, and the heavy, rich sound did flippy things to her insides. His deep blue eyes speared her and she got all caught up in him in a very nonprofessional way. Yeah, there might not be a whole lot of choice in the matter and she might not be the one doing the seducing. It was delicious to contemplate, either way.
“I’m not lost. Just...reassessing,” he said.
“That sounds promising. Why don’t you share your vision with me, at least, and we’ll take it from there?”
“Vision for what?”
He’d leaned into the space between them and she was having a hard time concentrating. Xavier had a very potent presence that had latched onto her skin in a wholly disturbing way. “For, um, LBC. As a charity. What’s the vision? Mission statement? That kind of thing.”
“Feed people,” he stated bluntly. “What more is there?”
“A lot. At the shelter, our goal was to give women back some control in their lives. Provide them with choices. The shelter part was just one of the mechanisms we employed.”
That had been satisfying work, even as a means to an end as she put herself through college. Sure, she’d had to fudge the dates a little on her résumé and leave off the last few years of employment so no one knew she’d worked for a news channel—which had subsequently fired her. But her drive to help people through knowledge hadn’t changed. She still believed in the value of nonprofit organizations, particularly those that served people at the poverty line.
That’s why it was so important to expose the fraud here. The money funneling through this organization should go to the people who came through the doors in need, not toward lining someone’s pocket because they saw an easy way to skim profits.
Xavier’s face turned to granite, which was his default more often than not. “You seem to forget I’m just filling in. This is not my normal world.”
All at once, the information she craved had nothing to do with LBC and everything to do with Xavier LeBlanc himself. He was such a fascinating puzzle who gave very little away. She wanted to unlock him in the worst way. “But your brother mentioned that your mother started this charity fifteen years ago. Surely you’ve been involved to some degree.”
“What you see is the sole extent of my involvement.” He waved at the desk. “This is where I’ll sit for three more months, and in that time I need to hold the best fundraiser this place has ever had. Mission statements are not my concern.”
She blinked, but his expression didn’t change. He was serious. Okay, wow.
“You’re going to have a very big problem, then. People don’t give money to fundraisers. They give to a cause they believe in. Your job is to make them believe in it. Don’t you think that in a city like Chicago there are a hundred—a thousand—places for people to donate? How do they decide? You help them decide by passionately pitching your mission statement to them.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” In the long pause, they stared at each other without blinking. “You’ve done fundraising before. Did you apply for the wrong position here?”
Yes. Yes, she had.
That was all the opening she needed to segue this potential disaster into something more her speed. “Perhaps, but only because you posted a job opening for the wrong position. Sounds like you need someone in your back pocket to tell you what to do, not the other way around. Were you not aware that you have serious deficiencies in your operating philosophy?”
Xavier leaned back in his chair as his gaze narrowed. “Can I be honest with you, Ms. Dixon?”
Oh, God, yes. Please spill all your secrets, Mr. LeBlanc.
“Only if you call me Laurel.”
His lips lifted into a brief smile that she fully expected meant he was about to argue with her. But he didn’t. “Laurel, then. You need to understand what’s happening here and I’m choosing to trust you, which is not something I do lightly.”
His tone or his smile or her own conscience tripped something inside. Guilt plowed through her stomach out of nowhere. It was one thing to dig deep enough to learn someone’s secrets when they were scamming, but she had no evidence Xavier was even involved in the fraud. What if her investigation caused problems for him?
Ugh, she was getting way ahead of herself. Her sources were credible and if there was something to uncover, Xavier would likely be happy that she’d done so. It was a public service, really. Surely he’d respect that.
“I’ll do my best to be worthy of that trust.”
He nodded once. “Then I have a confession. I am not well versed in how to run a charity. I do need help.”
She very nearly rolled her eyes. This was him being honest? “I already figured that out.”
“I’m doing my best to keep that nugget of truth from the rest of the staff,” he said wryly. “Which is why I try to stay out of their areas of expertise. That’s where you come in.”
“I hear you. You want to hide out here in the office while everyone else does the dirty work.” She stared him down as his eyebrows came together. “Too bad. You signed up to run LBC. Now do it. I’ll help. We’ll be partners.”
She stuck out her hand and waited. She needed him, whether she liked it or not. Whether he liked it or not. And the reverse was also clearly true. They would do this together or not at all. If she had a partner, the less chance she had of screwing up.
Xavier let her sweat it for about thirty seconds and then reluctantly reached out to clasp her hand for a very long beat that neither of them mistook for a simple handshake. There was too much electricity, too much unsaid for that.
The less she let him focus on that, the better.
Partners.
That was a concept Xavier liked a whole lot, given his distinct impression that Laurel Dixon was hiding something. He liked it even better that she’d been the one to suggest working together. The closer he kept her, the easier it would be to keep an eye on her.
He trusted her about as much as he’d trust a convicted car thief with the keys to his Aston Martin.
But he also understood that his lack of trust wasn’t specific to Laurel. If he really wanted to get honest about it, his inability to