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“Fine.” Devon reached for the remote. “I’ll find something else.”
Blake caught her wrist, the contact stopping them both. Her skin felt warm beneath his fingers. Devon’s gaze dropped to his hand.
He released her immediately with a muttered, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
There was no anger in her tone. For a moment, neither of them said a word or even moved. And in that brief second, Blake felt something shift.
Not dramatically. There was no lightning bolt or the appearance of angels playing their harps.
Just awareness. Him of her. Her of him. The space between them that suddenly felt too big.
He cleared his throat and leaned back against the cushion. “Play the musical.”
Devon’s smile reached her pretty gaze.
In the end, she chose an action movie instead. Which, of course, made him like her even more. They were halfway through when Willow abandoned them to head down the hall and Devon finally asked the question Blake had known was coming.
“So . . . what did you find?”
His attention shifted from the TV to her. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question.
“The pattern you found in the report you sent me is real.”
Her expression grew serious. “And?”
Blake leaned forward, grabbing the remote to pause the movie before setting it back down and resting his forearms on his thighs.
“I ran what you sent through a couple of my own programs this morning.”
“And?” she asked a second time.
“They don’t belong where they’re showing up.”
Devon swallowed. “So I’m not crazy.”
“No.” The word came out harder than intended. Forcing down his tone, he tried again. “No. You’re not crazy. You definitely found something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked back at him. “How bad are you thinking?”
“Potentially? Bad.” He sighed. “The transactions look deliberately structured. The reposts aren’t random, and those destination identifiers aren’t part of the normal system. Not that I could see, anyway. Whoever set this up knew enough to keep the amounts small and spread around.”
“You thinking fraud?”
“Maybe.” Blake shrugged. “That or money laundering or embezzlement. I need more data to be sure.”
Devon sighed. “I went as far into it as my access would allow.”
“I know.”
They forgot about the movie and pizza. Their attention became entirely focused on the discussion about the file. By eleven, Devon was yawning and showing clear signs of needing sleep.
Blake gathered their empty plates and napkins while Devon carried their empty glasses into the kitchen.
