Truth Be Told

8

If Aaron were any handsomer, Lizzie thought, she literally would not be able to stand it. Stephanie was still at her desk, Lizzie supposed, but as far as the secretary knew, Aaron Gianelli was coming to her office to talk business. Aaron had a way of talking business that made her feel not very businesslike.

“You been outside?” he said. He’d loosened his tie, and leaned against the doorjamb, lounging, both hands stuffed into pockets of his pants. “It’s incredibly hot.”

Lizzie tried not to stare, but that meant she had to look into his eyes, which was even harder.

“You don’t look hot.” Lizzie blushed, dying. “I mean-”

“Hey, Lizzie. Now you owe me.” He gave her that smile, then unbuttoned one shirt cuff and rolled it up to his elbow. Then the other.

She wondered how the rest of him looked. Her skin, if it were right next to his, would not be as tan. Now she was probably blushing again. She wished her phone would ring. The intercom buzz. Fire alarm. Anything.

“I came to check out your new digs. Welcome to the big time.” He gestured at her office. “Looks terrific, Lizzie. Nice chairs, nice desk, all the comforts of home.”

He walked toward her, before she even had a chance to say anything. Came around behind her chair, she could feel his presence there, imagined she could smell him, even though she couldn’t, felt the back of her neck prickle, felt her brain catch fire.

He leaned closer. She didn’t move, couldn’t move.

His breath was in her ear.

One arm, so close she could see the freckles dotting his suntan, reached past her, opened a file on her desk. The Iantoscas’ file. Labeled with their name in big Sharpie block letters.

Was he going to kiss her? Right now? At work?

But Aaron had snatched up the Iantoscas’ file and stepped away from her, leaning against the windowsill. Now he was actually paging through the paperwork inside.

“Whatcha working on here?”

He was smiling, but he didn’t look happy. She’d never seen that expression on his face before.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. This was her secret. Her. Secret.

“Five-forty-nine Nordstand Boulevard?” Aaron turned one page, then another. She could hear the swish of paper as he thumbed through the financial disclosures and deeds and legal documents. “Christian Iantosca. This is one of our REOs. From our department. Why’s it on your desk?”

She could actually feel the frown on her face, and struggled to change her expression, wanting to please him, but needing to protect her file. She was the one with the numbers, not him. The numbers were the power. The numbers would always save her.

Change the equation.

“Yes, the Iantoscas.” She swiveled her chair to face him. Her new vertical blinds cast slashes on the wall behind him, the afternoon sun coming through as slivers of light. His face was shadow, the manila file a silhouette. “A happy story. Such a sweet couple. I’m so thrilled it’s all turned out for them. Aren’t you? That they’re current now?”

Okay, he’d missed something, a big something, and Aaron sure as hell could not figure out what. The freaking Iantoscas? No way they were current. No matter what Lizzie said.

He’d flipped through the paperwork trying to figure out what happened while Lizzie kept babbling. He wasn’t the numbers guy in this deal, that was kind of Ackerman’s department, but crap, there’d be no reason the bank would assign this home if there wasn’t a slam dunk foreclosure.

Nordstand Boulevard was set to be a kick-ass property for him. In Allston, right by Boston College and BU. Three bedrooms, big ones, a finished basement. All good. Now Lizzie was telling him the Iantoscas were paid up?

“How’d that happen? Them getting current?” He scanned the numbers. The pre-foreclosure filings were all there, he’d seen those before. Now they had red lines through them. Top copy signed by Elizabeth H. McDivitt. “They win the lottery?”

Lizzie was blushing again. He could make her feel uncomfortable, good to know. Plus, losing this one house wasn’t gonna blow the whole deal. Lucky he’d found out. Before it was too late.

“They didn’t explain that to me,” she was saying. “It’s maybe personal? Family? Someone died, something like that.” Big smile, as if that would matter to him. “I only fill in the blanks. Make sure the columns add up. I’m the numbers girl.”

“Well, you’ve got mine.” Aaron slid the folder back on Lizzie’s desk. He’d check with Ack about it. If they’d paid, they’d paid. It happened. The Nordstand Boulevard deal wasn’t signed. He could still cancel, and move on. Three o’clock. Ack would know what to do.

“Got your what?” Lizzie was frowning, a lock of her hair dropping into her eyes.

For such a book-smart chick, she sure had a clueless streak. Luckily for him. Cute enough, though. He could handle a “relationship” with her. Who knows what it’d do for his career. Couldn’t hurt.

“Number,” he said. “You’ve got my number. So how about dinner? Tonight?”