Chapter 20
TWENTY
“It slipped my mind.” Reese shrugged on the blatant lie. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Oh, alright, I knew. But I couldn’t help it, Knight. She was asking for it.”
“She’s an expectant mother.”
“So? She still just about called you a dirty old man and me a gum cracking bimbo from Jersey. There’s nothing wrong with Jersey.”
“That’s exaggerating.” A micro millimeter.
“That there’s nothing wrong with Jersey?”
“The bimbo part.”
“Sex is a healthy aspect of a well-rounded life. But if you want to defend your ex-wife, that’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything to me.” Reese sniffed and removed her arm from his. “Though I have a hard time picturing you with her.”
“She’s changed a bit.”
“A bit?” She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and scanned the room. “Well, I still don’t think she could have ever been your type.”
As a matter of fact, he was starting to figure that out himself.
Dawn had always been more of a social climber than him.
He’d been leaning toward the apple pie-baking, homemaker type in the last year or two, and had been coming up short as well.
It was occurring to him now that maybe he liked the bold, sassy, former tomboy types.
For tonight, anyway.
“Yeah, I like women who look sexy in heels or jeans, who know how to have a career and how to play sports.” He took her slim hand in his, and tugged her until she was flush up against him, ignoring the crowd milling around them.
Reese smiled, obviously knowing where he was going with this.
That sexy dress rustled across his arms, calling up images of it crumpled next to the bed. His bed. Burying his hands in her hair, he stared into her passionate gray-green eyes and said, “And knowing how to arm wrestle and spit doesn’t hurt, either.”
“Hmmm.” She placed her hands on his chest, and fiddled with the button on his shirt. “Sounds like someone I know.”
Joking, he said, “Maybe you could set me up with her.”
Reese ran her finger across his bottom lip, making him wish this stupid wedding was over and they were naked. On a tropical island.
Then she said, “Don’t try funny, Knight. It doesn’t work on you.”
When she laughed, he couldn’t help but laugh with her.
He was fascinated by her, drawn to her quirky personality and unexpected responses.
It was tugging at him, this desire, this deep, quenching interest, until he was distracted from everything but her and the way she laughed, the way she smiled, and the look of passion in her eyes when she met his stare.
Christ. He did not need this distraction right now.
Reese felt Knight pressing into her thigh, and it wasn’t his gun. It was a little unnerving, this flammable passion between them, the way he could glance down at her and she wanted to drop her dress to the floor and do the naked tango.
It wasn’t that she had never been a sexual person.
She was young, healthy, and had always enjoyed her sex life, except for that first time, which was a paranoid blur.
But since then she had no complaints, even if she’d been going through a minor dry spell.
And the college years had been especially good to her.
But with Knight it was more than that. It was…fun. She liked being with him. He kept her on her toes, and he took her rough edges in stride.
He held her head with his hand, in a gesture that made her feel soft and sexy.
Lips hovered over hers, those chocolate eyes darkening as he moved closer.
He was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him.
She didn’t care if everyone in Chicago and his mother was watching them, she couldn’t resist his gruff charm.
The kiss never came. His lips moved past to her ear and he said, “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Forgiving him for the tease, she laughed. “Words to live by, Knight.”
“Let’s go into this damn wedding,” he said as he turned around and started towards the door, his hand still in hers.
That fabulous behind taunted her as he walked, looking sophisticated in those suit pants. The jeans were still orgasm inspiring, but this was a total package. He looked like a model, like an actor, like a very fuckable FBI agent.
Reese reached out and gave his ass a quick squeeze.
He jumped, turning to look at her in shock.
She liked that she could shock him.
“What?” Defiance and innocence she was good at, having perfected them during the many escapades of her childhood.
“Knock it off.”
“Knock what off?”
“You grabbed my ass.”
“I did not.” Guys weren’t the only ones who knew how to deny.
He looked ready to argue, but they had reached the receiving line and Reese was eager to meet the Chattertons.
Not to mention she had to meticulously record for the Newark News which designers the bridesmaids and mothers were wearing.
Her phone was in her clutch and she was hoping for a shot or two.
“You forgot you were supposed to be Reese Bismark, by the way.”
“Whatever. Your ex-wife is not going to run around and tell everyone.” Reese peered around the line into the ballroom.
There were approximately four hundred guests if she was counting the tables right, each with elaborate floral centerpieces in a russet autumnal theme.
Whew. Reese was mentally tabulating the cost of a sit-down dinner for four hundred and could only come to the conclusion that the Chattertons had done well in the drug price-fixing business.
Maybe her outrageously expensive allergy medicine had financed a portion of this wedding. A centerpiece, maybe.
Then she remembered Delco was price-fixing painkillers for terminally ill patients and somehow that seemed even worse. Someone dying in pain had paid for this exercise in overabundance.
“And who is this beautiful young lady?”
Reese found her palm grasped between two firm, eager, masculine hands and looked up, startled.
Lovely. The father of the groom, Ashton Chatterton himself, was leering at her over his tuxedo tie.
While she had been gaping at the opulent room lost in her thoughts, she had inched forward in the line and Knight was standing behind her, waiting for her to introduce them.
“I’m Reese, cousin of the bride.”
Shit. She was supposed to be the bridesmaid’s cousin, not the bride’s. She had always been such a good liar, but trust her talent to fail her right when she needed it most.
Knight coughed.
“Bridesmaid. Bridesmaid’s cousin. And this is my fiancé, Derek Knight.” She might as well torture Knight, too, in the process. Besides, if he knew she was engaged, maybe Chatterton would release the hand he was currently holding hostage.
No such luck. He just squeezed harder. “Oh, of course! Jeannie’s cousin, Reese, right?”
Ashton Chatterton was a little on the short side, heading towards bald, but he had a command of presence about him that Reese recognized immediately.
He dripped authority and stood straight and proud, a man used to getting what he wanted.
A wealthy man, who wore a tuxedo as comfortably as if it were jeans.
“Good looks obviously run in the family,” Chatterton was saying. “And you got more than your fair share,” he added with a wink that reminded her of Uncle Hal back in Brooklyn when she’d been growing up.
Uncle Hal hadn’t been anybody’s uncle, he had only wanted girls to call him that. Before he dropped his pants and showed them Mr. Happy.
That wink was followed by a lean that brought Chatterton firmly into her personal space.
Yeesh, Ashton Chatterton was coming on to her. With her fiancé standing right next to her. Who wasn’t really her fiancé, not even her boyfriend, but just a sexy pseudo-stranger who knew how to hit her g-spot like his thumb was a homing device.
But Chatterton didn’t know that. The nerve.
She added gross lecher to his list of crimes and tried to pull her hand back. His middle finger stroked across her palm in a sign language invitation and rude gesture she remembered from sixth grade. And it didn’t mean meet me on the playground later.
Maybe she was overreacting. Giving a light laugh, she said, “Oh, thank you, how sweet.”
Chatterton raised his eyebrow, gave a slow smile, and stroked her again. “I meant every word. Save me a dance, Reese. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. Much better.”
Even more reason to nail the guy and send him to prison.
“Lovely,” she murmured and moved down the line. Before they reached the bride and groom she ditched out of the line, yanking Knight with her, wondering if anyone would notice if she pulled out her phone and took a picture of the table settings.
Her boss would kill her if she didn’t come back with something good after he had sent her all the way to Chicago for this wedding. She decided no one would think twice about it in this age of digital excess.
Knight, who had shaken her hand off his arm, said in a harsh voice, “I don’t want you dancing with that creep.”
“What?” Distracted, Reese opened her clutch. Her phone took up the entire purse, and she reached in carefully to tug it out. She kept an eye peeled for anyone looking in her direction. Just getting a lipstick here, no cause to think I’m a media spy.
“The guy is a prick. I don’t even want you near Chatterton and I definitely don’t want him touching you.”
“Why? You think I’m going to blow your cover for you?
Or start asking price-fixing questions while we dance to ‘When a Man Loves a Woman?’ Do people still dance to that?
” Reese wasn’t going to blow his cover, or hers, for that matter, but if she was going to be forced to dance with Ashton Chatterton, she might as well see if she could find out anything interesting.
Like what kind of an idiot his wife was, since he was clearly a philanderer.
Reese answered her own question.
His wife was a rich idiot. Money could make you ignore lots of things, she imagined.
“I’m not talking about the case, I’m talking about the fact that the guy was undressing you with his eyes and is old enough to be your father.”
“Hey, the bride is wearing Vera Wang. Remember that. Not that I know how to describe that thing, my God, it’s got like gobs of fabric on the bottom.” Reese finally got the damn phone out and added, “Block me in case anyone thinks this is weird.”
As Knight moved to her side and pulled his jacket open briefly, she took a quick shot of the table.
“Oh, my God. You’ve got to get a new job.”
Where had he been? That’s what she had been telling him for twenty-four hours. “I know. That’s why I need this story.”
Satisfied with the shot, she dropped her phone back into her purse and grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray.
“Is the whistle-blower here, at the wedding?” She’d been wondering about the guy who was letting the FBI wire him so he could rat out his coworkers.
His name wasn’t in the transcripts and she only had the sketchy idea that he was a fellow board member, given his access to the meetings. She wondered why he had come forward when he stood to lose so much.
“No, he’s not here. He and Chatterton aren’t close. Chatterton doesn’t really trust him, I don’t think.”
“With good reason, I’d say.” Reese inspected a passing bridesmaid. Straight line, antique gold. Skirt and bodice separate.
“Hey, this guy is risking a lot, Reese. By giving us this evidence, he’s going to right a wrong that Delco has been committing for three years.”
“But why is he doing it? For the good of the American public?” She’d like to think someone would do it for the right reasons, but people so rarely did, she couldn’t help but feel cynical.
Knight studied her. “Something like that.”
He was holding out on her, she could tell. “So when do you have enough to prosecute, or to raid their offices, or whatever?”
“We need one or two pieces to fall into place.”
“You need a meeting on tape between Delco and the other company, don’t you? Where they actually use words like cooperate and setting the price and withholding patents.”
“That would help.” He glanced around the room, his hands in his pockets.
“Are they planning a meeting?”
“It’s possible.”
If he gave her another cryptic cop remark, she was going to hurt him.
“Thanks for opening up to me, Knight, I feel like everything is crystal clear now.” Reese drained her champagne, wondering why the waiter had only filled her glass a quarter of the way. Now she was going to have to find another one.
Those fudge-colored eyes just gazed steadily at her. His chiseled jaw clenched and one finger came up and brushed along his ever-present whiskers.
“You’ll get your story. Don’t worry.”
Somehow, that wasn’t convincing. “Don’t hold out on me, Knight, I’m telling you.”
He dropped his hand and smirked a little. “Are you threatening me?”
“That wasn’t a threat. This is. You’ll regret it if you cut me out.”
Reese was tempted to bend his thumb back to add oomph to the threat, but restrained herself. That would be childish even for her.