Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Reese paced the lobby of the Crowne Plaza, glancing at her platinum watch for the twelfth time as she noted that Knight was now eight and a half minutes late. If he stood her up she’d track him down and force-feed him chicken wings until he was in ulcer agony.
If he ditched her and went to the wedding alone to bust Chatterton, leaving her wearing a hole in the aqua hotel carpet, she would likely kill him.
To think she’d run out this morning and bought an ivory thong and matching push-up bra. What a waste of good lace and eighty bucks. Eighty bucks. What the hell had she been thinking?
That Knight would drool when she took her dress off.
Reese muttered under her breath, “Fat chance.”
A guy in his early twenties sitting in one of the lobby easy chairs looked over at her, wary.
“What?” she snarled at him.
He shook his head and stuck his headphones back into his ears, and pressed play on his phone before studiously looking out the front window.
Annoyed at herself for getting worked up over a man she didn’t even really know, Reese crossed her arms over her dress and stared at the front door, willing Knight to walk through it.
But first, check out the hunk strolling through the doors. Reese fanned herself a little. Whew. Hot stuff coming through in a black suit, looking like he owned the hotel.
Only he had a slight stiffness to his left leg, and shoulders that were familiar, and why did that hair seem like an exact shade of caramel she’d seen before?
Knight turned and met her gaze, his lip curling up in the corner.
Reese grabbed the back of the nearest easy chair and whispered, “Honey, baby, come to mama.”
And she had been worried that he didn’t own a suit.
Not only did he own one, he filled every inch of the high-quality suit to perfection, broad shoulders straight and rock solid chest covered with a rich burgundy shirt, no tie.
It was a risky move, not wearing a tie, the shirt’s top button undone, but he looked at ease doing it, as if he were used to trendsetting.
His belt was shiny black leather, the silver buckle taunting her, making her itch to undo it and move her hands into his pants.
Her cheeks flamed, her thighs twitched, her nipples shot forward in greeting.
And she hadn’t even seen his butt yet.
Knight sauntered up to her. “Catching flies, Reese?”
“Huh?”
“Your mouth’s wide open. I can see that you have three silver fillings and maybe a crown.” He took her chin in his hand and peered into her mouth.
“Haha.” Reese snapped her jaw closed, jerked out of his touch, and glared at him. “I’m just in shock. I never would have guessed you could clean up so well.”
He just smiled. “Thanks for the backhanded compliment. Now, shall we go?”
He offered his arm, which she took reluctantly, flustered at her reaction. Also, she was annoyed that he hadn’t said anything about the way she looked. It wasn’t easy walking in those stilettos—he could at least acknowledge that her legs looked good.
“You look incredible,” he whispered in her ear. “But all I can think about is you naked.”
Reese caught herself before she tripped in the toothpicks called shoes she was walking on.
She swallowed hard and commanded herself not to look at him or to think about nudity in any shape or form.
If she allowed her raucous thoughts to travel the path she wanted to, it was probable they wouldn’t even end up at the wedding, but would turn around and head up in the elevator to her room.
“Are you wearing any panties?” he asked as they stepped into the revolving door together.
Reese stopped moving and the door thunked her butt from behind. He put his foot between her and the glass to stop her from losing the back of her heel to the relentless motion of the heavy door.
His eyes were dark, his left hand in his pants pocket. There was a predatory stance about him that made her nervous.
“Of course I am. They’re big and plain white, with one of those stomach flaps on them to hold my gut in. Not sexy at all.”
He had done something to his hair, trimmed it and slicked it back a little with hair gel, giving it that tousled model look. Reaching up, he brushed his bangs back and up with a little jerk of his hand.
“You’re lying again.”
Then that hand, that wandering, big, hard man hand, slid down her side and around between them to cup and squeeze her behind. Warmth flooded her ivory thong panties as she sucked in her breath and tried not to moan.
“See? I don’t feel any panty lines at all.” That hand moved over, over until his finger traced the dip between her cheeks, sliding down, low, floating back up until she was moist with need, her body tense.
A knock on the glass had Knight pulling his hand away. Dazed and disappointed, Reese turned toward the sound.
A man was standing on the street, holding his suitcase in hand and looking seriously annoyed.
“The thing about these revolving doors,” the guy said with biting sarcasm, “is that you can’t stop moving in them.”
Embarrassed and horny, Reese pushed the door without warning, causing the guy to jump back. “Sorry,” she said with a wobbly smile as he had to step out of the way for her and Knight to exit.
Charging ahead, no destination in mind, she was heading down the sidewalk when Knight grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. “Hey, slow down. Let’s call a cab.”
“Fine.” She glowered at him.
He let out a chuckle and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “What’s the matter? You look like you might rip my head off.”
“Is that possible?” she said testily.
“You want to explain why you’re so upset?”
“Because it ticks me off that you look so good.”
His eyebrow rose. “You’d rather I’d have shown up looking scruffy and unattractive?”
“Yes. No.” She blew out her breath, making a raspberry sound with her lips. “I mean, with you distracting me looking like an FBI pinup, I can’t concentrate on this case, which you failed to tell me involved Phillip Chatterton, by the way.”
Knight dropped his hand, which he’d been hailing a cab with, and shot her a guarded look. “This case doesn’t involve you, Reese, and it’s a simple coincidence that you’re going to Chatterton’s wedding.”
“Oh, right, how stupid do you think I am?” Reese covered her arms and rubbed. The late September wind was kicking up a little, raising goose bumps on her flesh. “You’re going to bust him, aren’t you?”
“Not today, for Christ’s sake. It’s his wedding.” Knight turned and called the bellboy over, who had just finished loading a suitcase rack with luggage. “We need a cab, please.”
The bellboy said, “Yes, sir,” and hustled back to his post.
She stared at Knight. He stared back.
Knight broke the growing silence. “It’s time for you to tell me exactly what you saw, Reese. I’m not playing around. This is a major investigation and you either tell me, or you tell my boss.”
“You’d haul me in?” she cried indignantly, focusing on her anger and not the fact that a not-so-subtle sex fantasy involving handcuffs had popped into her head.
“You can bet your little panty-less ass, I would.”
“So this is what I get? And after I gave you some of the best fifteen minutes of my life.”
Knight’s lip twitched.
The cab pulled up to the curb. He opened the door and held his hand out to her. “If we’re going, you’re talking.”
Reese ran through her options. She could walk away from Knight, thereby getting herself hauled in by the Feds for questioning.
Sticky questions regarding certain photos she’d taken with her phone would arise.
And who knew what the ordeal might entail besides vending machine coffee and government gray walls. Were Feds authorized to strip search?
She shuddered and moved on to option B, which involved getting in the cab with Knight, and spilling her guts.
She’d have to trust him not to cut her out of the deal, that he would let her have the story.
That would require sticking close to him, which was almost certain to ensure a great deal of personal sexual satisfaction.
No contest.
She got in the cab, scooting over to make room for Knight and his gun.
When he sat down and shut the door, he gave directions for the wedding to the driver, making her wonder how exactly he had known those little details, since she’d never shared them.
His leg spread out as he got comfortable, knocking against her knee. “Sorry.”
Yeah, sure. And she was sexually disinterested.
His arm came up to rest on the back of the seat behind her head. “As soon as we’re alone, Reese, I want to hear everything. Not just about your tomboy childhood, but what you saw in that envelope and what you plan on doing with it.”
She stared at him, leaning forward to escape his touch as she matched his tone for blandness. They could have been talking about the weather or the price of lattes for all the inflection in his voice. “I saw everything, and I already told you what I plan to do with it.”
“This isn’t a game, Reese.” His eyes narrowed.
Her lips thinned. “I’m not playing. And this isn’t just about me getting a story, the public has a right to know they’re being fleeced.”
“Yes, but not before a case can be made to take the perps to court.” He was still using that calm, low, careful FBI voice that made her feel very tempted to rattle him.
“Of course not.” She leaned back and flipped her hair, turning to the side to smile at him under her long mascara laden lashes.
He stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she said with exaggerated innocence, her hands fisting into the soft fabric of her skirt.
“You’re trying to distract me.” His hand went into her hair, tugging her head towards him.
She held her head back so he couldn’t kiss her, which was clearly his intent. “No, I’m not. We can’t talk about details here anyway, so we’re done with this conversation for now. And I just wanted to show you something.”
Reese took a glance at the front seat to make sure the driver wasn’t paying them any attention. He was singing to Celine Dion and gesturing with his fist at the car in front of him.
“Show me what?” Knight tried to tug her to him again, but she wiggled back. He said, “Stop moving so I can kiss you.”
“First I wanted to show you ...” She eased her skirt up past her thighs and lifted her behind a little off the seat.
“That I really am wearing panties,” she whispered, bunching the bottom of her dress around her waist, taking major pleasure in the shock that flooded Knight’s face, followed quickly by a strangled gurgle trailing out of his mouth.