She had no idea how she felt about that.
There was a lot of time to think about it, since Knight stood over by the Dumpster for fifteen minutes talking. Yet she couldn’t come to any sort of conclusion. Except that she liked Knight. She really liked their sexual by-play.
But that didn’t mean they could or should be girlfriend/boyfriend. She lived a thousand miles from him. Besides, Knight struck her as the kind of guy who’d want a wife who cooked and cleaned and never complaining about his weird hours.
She was too selfish for that. The cooking part, anyway. She didn’t care about weird hours.
Without a female role model growing up, she had never learned the art of cooking. Some men cooked. Her father hadn’t. The way Reese had learned to sustain herself was by microwaving things that came out of boxes in her freezer.
Knight probably wanted a wife who would bake him chocolate chip cookies. She wasn’t baking anybody chocolate chip cookies. That’s what the bakery across the street from her apartment was for.
Of course, Knight had probably just used the most plausible explanation for her presence. They had been sitting just abouton top of each other. The use of the word girlfriend was probably just to reassure the witness.
Probably she needed to get a goddamn grip.
THIRTY-THREE
Derek couldn’t believewhat he was hearing. After months of indecisiveness and stubborn refusal, Stan had agreed to wear the wire to price-fixing meetings at Delco with Stanfield Laboratories.
This was it. A couple of good recordings and they could finally hand this case over to the lawyers.
Trying to stay calm and not alarm Markson, Derek said, “This is great news, Stan. I know you’ll be glad you’ve decided to cooperate. Why don’t you meet me here at the hotel again in the morning and we’ll have all the equipment.”
“Equipment? Can’t I just use my phone?” Stan was the most nervous Derek had ever seen him, pacing back and forth behind the Dumpster, running his hands through his thin hair over and over.
“It’s a little more high-tech than that. It’s a recorder worn on your back, that doesn’t need batteries and doesn’t need to be turned on or off by you. It’s got some kind of microchip. The audio is spectacular.”
Stan perked up. “Oh, okay.” He laughed nervously. “Like a spy or something.”
“Yep.” Derek chuckled with him. “So I’ll see you here at nine A.M. tomorrow? I’ll call you to let you know which room I’ll be in.”
“Okay.” Stan took a deep breath and nodded.
Derek took his hand and shook it, clapping Stan on the arm in reassurance. “You’ll do great. Thanks.”
After Stan had gotten back into his car and pulled out of the parking lot, Derek walked back to Reese’s car, triumph surging through him.
They weren’t there yet, but this was a huge step forward. Nordstrom was going to be thrilled.
Derek wanted to celebrate. The best way he could think to do that was with Reese naked in his arms.
He strolled up to the window and leaned in, noting it was still open. He had counted on that, figuring Reese would try to listen, which was why he’d taken Markson behind the Dumpster fifteen feet away. She would need elephant ears to hear what they’d been talking about.
Then again, he wouldn’t put anything past her.
“Well, you’re grinning like the village idiot,” she said, her leg propped on the dash, her slipper tapping to the beat of the radio. “Things go well?”
“Yep.”
“Good for you. Now I’m leaving, before I slip into a coma. Thanks for one of the most boring nights of my life.” She dropped her leg and started shimmying over to the driver’s side.
Derek slid his hand along her bare shoulder. “You followed me, remember? I left you back in a nice cozy hotel room.”
“Obviously not one of my better ideas.” She paused halfway across the gearshift.
“No, definitely not.” He squeezed her arm lightly. “Can I follow you back?”
He was asking out of politeness, but her answer was irrelevant. He was going to go back to Reese’s room and finally get to have all of her, every luscious inch, inside and out.