"Dear Esteemed Clients," Please disregard any minor discrepancies in your holdings. We are working diligently to discover which of our trusted executives has his hand in the till. Sincerely, the Management." Accountant Keeley Davis has been hired to find out who's been bilking money from the well-respected Bingham Bros. investment firm. To do so, Keeley will have to don a disguise and work closely with tastier-than-homemade-cherry-pie controller Dane Weiss! As Keeley tramps herself up as Dane's personal assistant Cherry Smith her calculations start paying off big dividends--like when she serves up a hot plate of Dane ? la mode. But as things start to really sizzle, Keeley wonders whether she can keep her eyes on the bottom line...when all she can think of is keeping Dane in her bed?
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
May 31, 2008
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Sex by the Numbers by Marie Donovan
"Are you sure my breast implants aren't tax-de-ductible?" The blond bombshell sitting across from Keeley Davis tapped her acrylic nails on the rich brown maple desk. "That exotic dancer in Indiana got hers deducted and they weren't that much bigger than mine."
Keeley turned away from her laptop screen, where she was reviewing Sugar's tax return. Tax season was finally wrapping up, and none too soon for a poor, worn-out accountant. "Sorry, Sugar--it'd be a long shot. The tax court is cracking down on what they regard as frivolous deductions and I doubt we could get it past them. We can write off your costumes and the tinted latex nipple makeup, but that's about it. No personal care like tanning, manicures or hair extensions."
"And we can't appeal? I only got the implants for professional reasons, you know." Sugar pursed her pink glossy lips.
Keeley had known her friend and client too long to fall for her act. She peered over the tops of her glasses. "And you get no personal benefits from them?"
Sugar smacked her arm playfully. "Oh, all right, you naughty girl. I didn't lose any nerve sensation from the surgery and my last boyfriend and I did enjoy them."
"Thought so." Keeley pushed her glasses back up her nose to focus on the computer again. "And if we make an issue over this, the IRS might want to look in to how much of your cash tips you've been reporting as income." Keeley wasn't a novice to IRS audits, but didn't exactly enjoy them, either.
"Hmmph." Sugar backed down, like Keeley thought she would. As a certified public accountant, Keeley couldn't take part in tax evasion in the form of under-reporting garter or G-string tips, but she had a good idea that Sugar salted away her own personal cash stash, and who could blame her? Keeley would do the exact same thing in the same situation.
But Keeley was on the straight and narrow, just taking the figures Sugar gave her and plugging them into the tax program, although sometimes she raised an eyebrow at an obviously low figure. Sugar would revise it upward without blinking.
Keeley added in a couple of last-minute expenses Sugar had brought over today. Sugar, not one to sit still for any period of time, paced around the small office. Her long legs took her rapidly from one terra-cotta faux-painted wall to the other, the beige Berber carpet muffling her sneaker-clad steps. Like some dancers, Sugar had foot problems and only wore high heels onstage and on dates.
Keeley rotated her own brown-pump-clad foot under her desk. Her shoes matched her hair, her eyes, her jacket and her skirt. She was a big brown wren in comparison to her flashier blond friend, but accountants couldn't exactly sport cleavage T-shirts and midthigh denim miniskirts.
Sugar stopped to eye a pair of watercolor prints of Florence, Italy. Keeley had never been there, but the red tile roofs matched the whole rich, Tuscan, trust-me-with-your-finances theme she wanted to emphasize. After all, accountants working in Renaissance Florence had invented double-entry bookkeeping.
Keeley printed the return and eyed it one last time before passing the pages to Sugar. "Read these over before I file electronically."
Sugar sat and speed-read through the papers. She looked as if she was skimming, but Keeley knew she was tallying every number to the penny. She finally raised her blond head and smiled. "I suppose that's as good as it gets without writing off the breast implants."
Keeley shrugged, palms upward. "If you really want me to try..."
"No, I guess not. After all, pigs get fat, but hogs get slaughtered." Sugar signed the bottom page for her own records.
"That's right." Keeley'd heard that saying more than once growing up in downstate Illinois. Not that there had been enough to even get slightly plump on. "Off it goes to Uncle Sam. Since you've made your quarterly payments, you don't owe any more than usual."
"Whoopee. I'll have to schedule myself at Frisky's a couple more nights to make up for it."
"If any of your clients work for the IRS, charge them double." And now that Keeley's highest-earning season was almost over, she'd have to save her money to make it last as long as possible until next winter.
Sugar passed the papers to Keeley. "By the way, Keel, I recommended your accounting services to an old friend of mine."
"Oh, who?" That might help tide her over while she built her client base.
Sugar grinned. "Binky Bingham."
"Boy, when you said 'old,' you weren't kidding. I thought he croaked last fall after hot-tubbing with that dancer from Chicago Gentlemen's Club." And why on earth would Binky Bingham, billionaire, need accounting services from her fledgling business?
"Alive and kicking. He's still one of her regulars, in and out of the club."
Keeley made a face. Binky fancied himself quite the ladies' man and had the money to make it so.