Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Reese hung out on the sidewalk with the pigeons and wondered if she should walk into the FBI building in front of her, or if she should just go back to the Crowne Plaza. Or back to New York.
She hadn’t been this indecisive since…ever.
The wind was kicking up, flapping the bottom of her olive green suit jacket, and dipping down her ivory shell to chill her skin.
Fall had come early and she was getting cold.
A pair of jeans and a soft cable knit sweater would be better suited to the weather, but she hadn’t planned to extend this trip when she had packed, and she had no other clothes.
This was the same suit she’d worn on the flight in.
Sunday she had spent rereading carefully all the Delco documents, trying to determine how close the FBI was to an indictment. Then she had researched price-fixing online and found out what she could about Delco Pharmaceuticals.
Followed by canceling her plane ticket, writing the story on the Chatterton-Bismark wedding, which she had emailed to the Newark News office, and a really hideous phone conversation to Ralph she’d prefer not to think about.
Given that she didn’t want to print the Delco story in the Newark News, she had been forced to lie to Ralph, claiming she had a roaring case of the flu and couldn’t fly. He had been less than thrilled, and she had cringed through the lie.
She had never lied so much in her life.
And she still wasn’t exactly sure why she had told Knight she was leaving when she wasn’t.
If she wanted to pursue this story, she had to be in touch with him.
Of course, it was possible she had been thinking that touching was a bad thing, and staying in contact by phone was much more the way to go as far as Knight was concerned.
He had a way of distracting her with his rippling muscles and heartfelt sighs of impatience. Not to mention his tongue and what it could do to her.
It had seemed like a smart move just to get away from him.
Reese looked up at the stark concrete building in front of her and wondered what her problem was. She’d never been such a wet noodle and she didn’t like it now.
So what if Knight would be ticked at her for lying about leaving Chicago? Who cared if he didn’t like her showing up at his office unannounced? She’d brought him lunch, hadn’t she? Ulcer-sensitive potato soup.
She’d never brought another man soup. If he didn’t appreciate it, she’d drop it in his lap.
The truth was, she needed his cooperation if she were going to write this story. And she wanted to have sex with him, to ease herself down onto his impressive cock and engorge herself on pleasure.
It was the thought of that that sent her up the stairs and through the heavy doors.