Chapter 6
SIX
Reese jumped as Derek said, “Damn it!”
He continued to maul her bra as he added, “Jesus, I don’t need this crap. Like I don’t have enough problems, I’ve got to deal with you now.”
Someone needed yoga and meditation.
Intent on saving her expensive bra from destruction, she inched towards him. “Hey, relax, I’m not out to ruin your life.”
“I’m not reassured.” Tossing her bra on the bed, he dropped the envelope next to it and raked his hands through his hair.
Giving her bra a glance to check for torn seams or busted underwire, she sighed in relief. All intact. “I didn’t ask for this to happen either.”
But she was so glad that it had. Not only did she have a chance at a real investigation and byline, but she got to do it alongside the sexy and hot-tempered Agent Knight. It was an orgasm just waiting to happen.
She decided to re-categorize his looniness as tenacious and determined. Career driven. If he had to drive her off the road to get his envelope, he would. She could live with that. After all, she was willing to stand here with hard nipples in front of a gorgeous man for a story.
Talk about a hardship.
He shook the envelope in front of her. “What did you see?”
“Look, Knight, don’t get all worked up. Maybe we can help each other out.”
“How the hell can you help me?”
The man had no people skills. Too much time spent on bulking up those muscles and not enough on social graces and communication.
“Calm down and I’ll explain.”
The knock on the door didn’t help his glare. In fact, it made it more pronounced. “Who’s at the door?”
“Well, gee, I don’t know. Let me adjust my X-ray eyes and tell you.” She rolled her eyes. “What do I look like? A Powerpuff Girl?”
The sarcasm went unheeded. Knight was slipping his hand under his sweatshirt in what Reese determined was an instinctive check to make sure his gun was there. She about came on the spot.
Since when had she developed an enforcer fetish?
Since double chocolate fudge eyes had arrested her.
A laugh ripped out of her. God, she cracked herself up. Giving her a wary look, Knight called, “Who is it?”
“Room service.”
Reese’s stomach growled. “Oh, that’s right. My chicken wings are here.”
Knight said, “You ordered wings at nine o’clock at night?”
“Well, that’s a little judgy.”
He opened the door and nodded to the room service attendant. Reese salivated as the tray was brought in and deposited down on her tiny table in the corner.
“There’s no time limit on wings. Besides, I just got in from New York and there was no food service on the plane. I haven’t eaten since noon.”
“You’re all set. Is there anything else I can get for you?” The middle-aged attendant smiled at her, eyes dropping to her robe for a split second.
“That’s all. Thank you.” She headed for her food, her stomach in danger of digesting its own walls if she didn’t eat soon. “Knight, give the man a tip, would you?”
She gave him a sweet smile as she took her seat in front of the tray.
He frowned at her, but was already reaching for his wallet. “Let me guess, your money is with your flannel pajamas.”
“No. My money is in my purse on the bed. I just don’t feel like getting it.”
The attendant chuckled as he accepted the tip from Knight. They exchanged one of those guy looks, the kind where they lament the vagaries of womankind with a single lift of the eyebrow.
“Have a good night,” he said as he backed out of the room.
Reese patted the seat next to her at the cozy little table. “Sit down. Share some wings with me.”
He came towards her, dripping with suspicion, flipping his hair back out of his eyes. Given the unruly nature of his hair and the fact that his sweatshirt was probably older than she was, she decided he had been a while without a female influence.
Perfect.
Because she intended to influence him. To give her first dibs on the price-fixing story, and to convince him that it would be a brilliant idea to sleep with each other in the near future, after she was certain he was just dedicated to his job, not actually dangerous.
“Let’s discuss how we can help each other.”
“You can help me by staying out of this, Reese. Forget anything you saw and go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before.”
Interviewing B grade actresses and local mayoral candidates?
No thank you. The truth was, she didn’t even work for a real newspaper.
No New York Times for her. She was stuck with the Newark News, which was one third obituaries, one third sports, and another thirty percent delegated to entertainment.
Her beat, lucky her. The remaining three and a half percent was for the news and current events.
With this story, she could blow off the Newark News, give her boss Ralph the finger, and wave the scoop in front of the highest bidder. Meaning any halfway decent paper that offered her a job. Anywhere in the Continental U.S. She might even be willing to consider Alaska if the pay was right.
“Okay, just give up on that idea right now. I can’t forget what I saw. And if you hadn’t chased me here, there, and everywhere for it, I probably never would have looked. But you made me curious.” So really he had no one to blame but himself.
A heartfelt sigh issued forth as he dropped into the chair. “I’m too old for this crap. I need to retire.”
It made her laugh as she reached for a chicken wing, setting it on her paper plate. Room service didn’t extend to anything breakable she guessed.
“Drama king, good grief. I think you’ve got like thirty years ahead of you before you can do that.”
“Try twenty. I’m thirty-six,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her stalk of celery. He gave a vicious bite and sat there chewing in a major sulk.
Since Reese had put him in the somewhere between thirty-two and forty category, she wasn’t surprised at all. But confirmation of his age made her take a peek at his ring finger to see if there was a Mrs. Cranky FBI Agent.
The finger was bare and there were no telltale tan lines to indicate he slipped it on and off at will.
“You’re just going to eat celery?” Reese said around a mouthful of chicken. “There’s plenty for you, too.”
“Ulcer,” he said, eyeing the wings covetously.
Reese saw the signs of someone feeling seriously sorry for himself. A little balloon of empathy for him rose in her chest, which was dumb since she had every intention of using him to suit her purposes.
Yet she said lightly, “Is that standard issue with your gun and badge? I swear, every cop has one.”
He just grunted and tossed the celery down, rattling the plastic fork and knife on the table. “Along with the bum knee?”
“Were you shot or something?” He was growing more and more appealing by the second, if a little on the moody side. She pictured him dodging bullets and wrestling bad guys to the ground. Chasing a crook with the same single-mindedness with which he had chased her.
Shiver. Why had she never dated in law enforcement before? This was so sexy.
“Tire iron. Took it in the knee.”
“Owww.” Her own knee throbbed in sympathy.
His lip twitched. “That about sums it up.”
Then he sank back into his chair and said, “Sorry. You don’t want to hear all this, I’m sure. But I haven’t been having the best few months. Year. Two years.”
Sex could fix all that. Or at least make him forget. It was perfect. She could sleep with him and have no guilt that she was using him to get this story. In fact, it would be like a public service. Sending a federal agent back into the field relaxed and ready to defend innocent Americans.
And there were no moral snafus because she wanted him. She really, really wanted him.
“Well, if you’re going to have a pity party, I want to join.” Wiping errant blue cheese dressing from the corner of her mouth, she said, “You think your life sucks? Try mine. I’m twenty-six.” She stopped to take a sip of iced tea.
“And how is that supposed to make me feel bad for you?”
“Hold on, I haven’t gotten to the bad part. I’m not old but I’m too old to still be working the crappy job I do. I’m not a real reporter, Knight.”
“You’re a fake one?” he said, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled.
“No, I’m not a fake.” She allowed a pitiful and drawn out sigh to emerge. “I’m a reporter, but I work for a rag paper. Only it’s not even a good rag. We haven’t even been sued for slander. Our circulation and online reach is so small we could print literally anything and no one would care.”
He laughed, a full rich laugh that reminded her she had never bothered to dress, and the only thing separating his hand from her thigh was a layer of terry cloth. Oh, and a table. But it was such a small table.
He shook his head. “I kind of wondered what exactly the Newark News was.”
“A pit of despair for young aspiring journalists, whose idealism is ground under the boots of Ralph Greco, managing editor. Ralph is also fond of onion laden sandwiches, which, given the small confines of our office, makes life almost unbearable.”
He said, “My boss would be happy to see me shuffling papers for the rest of my life. He’s demoted me twice and lies in wait for me to screw up so he can gleefully slap me with an infraction.”
So Knight understood a hostile work environment. This was great. She grinned at him. “What did you do? Sleep with his wife?”
Laughter disappeared as he blanched. “Damn, that’s a scary image. No. Let’s just say Mrs. Nordstrom has an excess of opinions on killer bees.”
“Bees?”
“Yes. She’s obsessed with them. Works them into every single conversation. Every one. It’s remarkable, if unsettling.”
Reese snorted.
“No, I just tripped him by accident on a take down. He was supposed to be first man in, and when he moved past me, he tripped.” Grinning, he reached over and picked up a chicken wing. “He was first man in alright. First in on his face.”
Oh, that was good. “So both our jobs suck. I bet I can beat you for crap factor with my personal life.”
His eyebrows raised. “I doubt it.” He took a bite of chicken and leaned forward, a definite gleam in his eye.
Reese bent towards him, sucking the excess sauce off her finger with slow deliberate movements. “Give it your best shot, Knight. You’ve got nothing on me.”
“You want to bet?” His voice was low, hoarse, teasing.
“I do.”
If she were a betting woman, she’d bet that this night was going to get a whole lot more interesting fast.
All she had to lose was the robe on her back. And shedding that was exactly according to plan.