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Charlotte smirked triumphantly. “I was born.” She didn’t explain that she couldn’t have been more than a year old.

That hadn’t been the question.

“Did you creep into my o ce after hours to talk about music?”

Holding Alexandra’s piercing gaze, Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to read any playfulness into her words. Her stoic face and dry tone didn’t o er any positive hints, but her gut told her something was there. “I came to save you quite a bit of money on your next tax bill.”

“Then have a seat.” Alexandra pointed at the chairs across from her desk.

As Charlotte sat, she regretted not having worn a skirt.

Alexandra wasn’t the only one with a nice set of legs. Years of running had given Charlotte well-toned calves, but they were hidden behind wide-legged trousers.

“I found your charitable contributions.” Charlotte wished she’d brought her notes with her but couldn’t risk losing her chance by running to get them. “You’re missing out on major deductions by—”

“Reporting them on my taxes would require disclosure. I prefer to remain anonymous,” Alexandra interrupted.

Charlotte couldn’t tell whether she’d struck a nerve.

There was an energy shift, but Alexandra’s expression remained unchanged. Charlotte had learned to be a master judge of people, picking up tiny clues to decipher mood and intent. As a kid it helped her navigate the endless parade of foster parents and group home politics, but Alexandra gave her close to nothing. It was as intriguing is at was unnerving.

“You’re willing to pay a pretty hefty sum to the government just for a little anonymity? It’s not like you’re donating to controversial causes.”

Dark eyes searched Charlotte’s face as if considering what to say next. “As soon as people know you give, they put you on lists. Endless requests and invitations.” She shook her head. “I value my privacy more than any tax credits.”

“Considering the amount you’re leaving on the table, that must be true,” she joked. “Is the life of a wellness resort owner so open to public attention?” Asking the direct question was a risk, but Charlotte was feeling daring.

Alexandra raised her dark, sculpted eyebrow. “You’ve never met the head of a benefit gala, have you? They’re relentless.”

When Charlotte chuckled, the tension she didn’t notice was coiled in her muscles dissipated. “I can’t say anyone has ever harassed me for donations, but I do have a nice Ikea dresser that could draw some eyes.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” she said before leaning forward as if paying a new level of attention to the woman sitting across from her. “Tell me, Ms. Castro, why are you so interested in saving me money? That’s a little outside the purview of your job, isn’t it?”

“Call me, Charlotte,” she said firmly before adding,

“please.”

Alexandra

tipped

her

head

forward

slightly,

acknowledging her request.

What would her name sound like on those full lips? Would it be soft and breathy? She imagined Alexandra’s head tossed back, her long neck exposed to the gods.

Charlotte’s skin tingled in response to the mental picture.

She cleared her throat and straightened. “If you grow, I grow,” she explained simply. “There’s still a way you might be able to get the tax benefits and maintain your anonymity.” She dared to push a little farther. “Plus, I can do a lot more for you than just your books.” Charlotte’s attention dipped down to Alexandra’s mouth for a fraction of a second before returning to her penetrating eyes.

“I’ll keep your,” she paused as if looking for the right word, “eagerness . . . in mind.”