“No, but Reese asked Jenkins if he was spending all his money on Botox.”
Derek felt a pain behind his eyebrows, and he sighed. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“Don’t you want to hear it?” Maddock waved his phone in his face as Schwartz let out a laugh.
“No, I’ll pass.” If he wanted to hear Reese say something outrageous, he could just go upstairs to their room and do it in person.
Maddock looked disappointed. “Don’t you even want to hear the part where the guy comes on to her and she tells him she has a boyfriend?”
A boyfriend? She’d said the word boyfriend? That was really damn hard to believe. Not that it mattered.
It didn’t mean she thought ofhimas her boyfriend.
He’d look like an ass if he listened to it now.
Like a moony-eyed teenager.
Whipped.
“Maybe just real quick.”
FIFTY-ONE
Reese wasin the open-air restaurant in the six-story atrium of the hotel, reading a lifestyle magazine and munching on a bag of peanuts, when Markson approached her.
“Uh, Reese, can we talk?” Markson’s hand was shaking a little as he tugged at his tie.
Reese shoved her feet back into her sandals and sighed.
“What is it, Stan?”
He probably couldn’t figure out how to have his shirts dry-cleaned in the hotel. Her eyes wandered back to the article she’d been reading outlining the new rage—orthodontics for dogs. Braces for Fifi so the other poodles don’t make fun of her crooked teeth? Reese stifled a laugh.
“Can I sit down?”
Reese looked up at Stan and dropped the magazine. Markson seemed nervous, more so than usual. “Sure. What’s going on?”
“I’m ready to do that interview with you.” Markson glanced around at the mostly empty restaurant. He winced when the lobby elevators swung open and a crowd of businessmen and women walked out, talking loudly.
Reese followed his gaze, felt his increasing anxiety. She hoped like hell her voice was soothing. She wanted this interviewin the worst way. “That’s great, Stan. I promise I’ll do the piece your way, with all the facts set straight. We’ll show America that you’re a hero.”
He picked at the cocktail napkin in front of him. “Not a hero. Just trying to do the right thing. I want people to know that I wasn’t doing anything illegal, I didn’t want to sell out my buddies, but I just couldn’t stand by and let Delco cheat its customers.”
“That sounds perfect. Let’s go up to my room where I can take notes and we can be comfortable, okay? Unless you’re fine with me recording on my phone?”
Sitting out in the open like this was making her nervous. She could probably explain it with a lie or two if Chatterton or one of the other execs walked by, but Knight was another story. He could see through her BS in about five seconds and would want to know the true story. She could not tell him about the interview with Markson.
At least not until the case had gone to the lawyers and the piece was on its way to theChicago Tribune.
“Let’s go upstairs. It’s not a good idea to be seen together, is it?”
“No.” Grabbing her magazine, Reese felt in her purse for her room key and headed for the elevators, Markson trailing behind.
There was a small alcove by the elevators filled with potted plants and a shoe-shine stand. The stand was empty, but Reese came to a screeching halt in front of it. Markson walked into the back of her, grunting in surprise.
His hands went to her shoulders to steady them both and Reese whirled around, intent on hiding from Jenkins and Goldberg, who were waiting in front of the elevators, looking bored. She did not want to explain why she was with Markson, realizing she could probably lie her way through it, but he would more than likely blush and sweat and stammer.
“Back up,” she whispered to him fiercely.