Wilde at Heart Page 8

  He motioned to the hallway off the living room. “First door on the right. This apartment has top-of-the-line security, so you’re perfectly safe here.”

  Maybe physically safe, but emotionally? Oh, she was in so much danger.

  Adjusting her grip on Poe’s cage, she followed the instructions and found the bedroom was just as industrial as the rest of the apartment. The bed had no headboard, and there was no other furniture in the room—not even a dresser. But there was a massive walk-in closet and a small en suite with a shower. Good. At least she wouldn’t have to share a bathroom with Reece. That would be way too…intimate.

  But if she was going to live here for the next two months, she had to make some changes.

  She set down Poe’s cage and took the cover off. His gray feathers were fluffed up; the drive had made him anxious. She reached through the bars and rubbed his head to calm him. Best to give him time to adjust to his new surroundings before letting him out to explore, she decided. Traveling always ruffled his feathers.

  As she straightened away from the cage, she spotted a bushy orange tail under the bed and squatted down. Reece’s cat reminded her of Garfield, fat and orange with big green eyes that blinked at her when she held out a hand to him.

  “What’s his name?” she asked. Reece had followed her and now loitered just outside the door.

  “The Cat.”

  She gazed up at him in disbelief. “You didn’t give him a name?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the one he came with. Sam the Cat.”

  “So he’s Sam?”

  “The Cat suits him better.”

  She shook her head and peeked under the bed again. “Hi, Sam. You’re going to be a good kitty and not try to eat my bird, right?”

  Sam inched out from under the bed until Poe let out a squawk from his cage. The cat’s tail poofed up and he hissed, then scampered between Reece’s legs and disappeared up the hallway.

  “Sam the Scaredy-Cat is more like it.” She stood. “Is he always so jumpy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know? He’s your cat.”

  “He’s only mine by default,” Reece said and walked away as if they weren’t in the middle of a conversation.

  Shelby stared at the empty doorway for a second, then chased him down the hall to the master bedroom. He’d done a bit more decorating—if it could be called that—in this space, adding a large dresser and some nightstands on either side of the king-size bed. But it was still all very austere. “Hold up. You can’t have a pet by default.”

  “Yes, you can.” He disappeared into a closet the size of her bedroom at the house she shared with Eva. And now Cam. Which reminded her she still had to find a new place to live because once this thing with Reece was over, she didn’t want to be the proverbial third wheel, stuck in a house with the newlyweds.

  She shook her head to dislodge the depressing thought and walked over to the closet. Suits lined the bars in tidy rows, all pressed and neat. So different from her closet, which spewed a rainbow onto her bedroom floor. What would Reece do if she pulled one of his ties off those anal-retentive hangers and tossed it on the floor? Her fingers tingled with the urge, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself from doing it.

  Reece was shirtless and halfway through pulling off the slacks he’d traveled in. “Jesus, Shelby. A little privacy?”

  She leaned a shoulder against the jamb and admired the view. He looked damn fine in a suit, but it was a shame he had to cover up all that lean muscle. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen. I’m not understanding this whole pet-by-default thing.”

  He heaved out a sigh and finished pulling off his pants. She’d always been a boxers kind of girl, but the formfitting briefs he was wearing made her belly jitter.

  “Jude fell in love with the cat and brought him home from Key West,” Reece said and chose a fresh dress shirt. “Except he and Libby can’t have animals in their apartment. Cam and Vaughn took the cat for a while, but turns out, the twins are both allergic. And Greer’s not home enough to take care of an animal, so that left me until Jude and Libby’s lease is up.”

  “You took in a cat for your brother?”

  He stepped into a pair of slacks and looped a tie over his shoulders. “Wouldn’t you, for your sister?”

  “Well, yeah. But—” He looked over at her and she closed her mouth without finishing the thought. She hadn’t expected that kind of commitment from a workaholic like him. Instead, she asked, “Where are you going?”

  “I need to check in at DMW, then go to the Wilde Security office.”

  “You know, most people take the evening off when they’ve been traveling all day.”

  “Most people don’t have a blackmailer to find.”

  “Touché.” She sketched a point in the air. “Reece, one. Shelby, zero.”

  He scowled and buttoned his shirt. “This isn’t a game.”

  “Sure it is. Life’s one big game. Everyone’s playing, but few realize that it’s rigged. None of us ever win—we all end up in the same place—so why not have fun with it?”

  “You sound like Jude,” he muttered.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Jude’s got his shit together.”

  “Are we talking about the same Jude? Captain Annoying: the First Fuckup, champion of loudmouth little brothers everywhere?”

  She gaped at him. “Did you just make a comic book joke?”

  His face went blank. “No.”

  “You did so!”

  He turned to the door. “There’s a dinner party tomorrow night, and I plan to use it as our official debut as husband and wife. It should take the heat off the blackmail threat, and then we can work on clearing up your money issues. A stylist will be here at eight a.m. to fix your hair.”

  “Uh, whoa.” She held up her hands. “I can do my own hair.”

  He glanced back, his gaze assessing, almost cold. “It needs to be a normal color.”

  Self-conscious, she tugged on a purple strand. “I know that.”

  “We’ll keep the stylist appointment, then Libby will take you shopping tomorrow afternoon. She has a good eye for fashion and will help you find something appropriate.”

  Shelby resisted the urge to tug on the hem of her skirt. The fact she even wanted to pissed her off. She’d never before been uncomfortable with herself, and she wasn’t about to let him make her feel that way. “If you think you get to order me around just because we’re temporarily married, you have another think coming. I’ll do my own hair and choose my own clothes, fuck you very much.”

  His eyes flashed, but not in anger. Something darker, hotter, and her panties dampened. She caught her breath at the unexpected throb of lust and reached for him, but he abruptly turned on his heel and stalked out.

  A moment later, she heard the front door click shut.

  She blew out a breath and staggered backward a step until the bed touched the back of her thighs. She sank to the mattress and told her libido to calm down. But when he got all commanding like that… Whew. And the heat between the two of them? Holy hell. It put a volcano to shame, and she’d never experienced anything like it before, with anyone. How could she want to throttle the man and at the same time, want to jump his bones and ride him until they were both screaming?

  Shelby groaned and dropped her head into her hands. She was used to getting herself in and out of trouble, but this time, she just might have stepped in over her head.

  “Reece. I didn’t expect to see you in.”

  Reece glanced up from his computer at his vice president’s surprised voice. “Didn’t expect to see you here, either, Dylan.”

  Dylan Porter smiled in his charming, too-slick way and sidled into the office. “No rest for the wicked.” He sat down in one of the leather chairs opposite Reece’s desk and leaned forward. “So I’ve been hearing this crazy rumor going around about you…”

  Fuck. Did he know about the blackmail? But how could he? Unless…he w
as the blackmailer. The idea sent a ripple of hot betrayal through Reece’s gut. Dylan was the closest thing he had to a friend, but yeah, the guy couldn’t be ruled out just because of that. A computer genius in his own right, Dylan certainly had the skills for blackmail. Not to mention, he was ambitious, and his vision for the future of DMW didn’t always line up with Reece’s. He didn’t want help from Irving James, and they had gotten into more than one argument over it.

  Reece’s heart kicked against his ribs, but he kept his face firmly impassive. “You know better than to believe rumors.”

  “I do,” Dylan agreed, his eyes crinkling with humor. “But judging by the ring on your finger, I’m guessing this one’s true. You really went and got yourself hitched?”

  Reece gazed down at the band. Oh, right. That. Not the blackmail then. “Yeah, it’s true.”

  A grin broke across Dylan’s face. “Congrats, man. You sure play things close to the chest. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

  “It’s…” He thought about lying, saying the relationship had been going on for a while, but made a split-second decision against it. For one thing, he and Shelby would never be able to pull off faking a long-term engagement. And lying to Dylan sat like a lump of lead in his gut, so he settled on a half-truth. “It was a bit of a whirlwind.”

  Whirlwind. Hah. Wasn’t that a fitting description of Shelby?

  Dylan laughed. “Sweep you off your feet, did she?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, when you know, you know. I knew Alicia was it for me after our first date. ’Course, it took me three years to convince her of it. What’s her name?”

  “Shelby.”

  “You do realize Alicia is going to want to meet her? And she’ll probably want to drag us all out on double dates to the opera.”

  Reece internally winced at the mention of opera. He wasn’t a fan, but Dylan and Alicia were and somehow, attending with the power couple had become part of his public persona. He was expected to go and mingle and pretend he gave a fuck, so he did, even though he was out of fucks to give at this point.

  But the thought of Shelby at the opera was so ridiculous, a snort of laughter escaped before he could stop it. Shelby would give that lot of uptight pricks coronaries.

  Dylan raised an eyebrow at him and Reece coughed to hide the laugh. “I, uh, don’t think Shelby’s the type to appreciate opera.”

  “Really?” Dylan frowned. “What does she do?”

  “She’s a small business owner.” Which was the truth, but it still boggled his mind. “She owns The Bean Gallery.”

  “The place you like that serves horrible coffee?”

  It could be pretty horrible, he had to admit, but come to think of it, the coffee had improved considerably in the last few months. Starting right around the time Shelby had bought out the previous owners. Maybe she knew what she was doing after all. “It’s not that bad, Dyl.”

  “Uh-huh. Just like I don’t tell Alicia her cooking sucks, but I’ll defend it until my dying breath if anyone else says so. Welcome to married life.” Dylan levered his gym-honed body out of the chair. “When will we get to meet her?”

  “She’ll be at the party tomorrow night.”

  Dylan scowled. “I still say we don’t need to impress that old blowhard James. We just need to lose the dead weight of your brothers’ security company. Cut them loose and then we can take DMW public—”

  Sighing heavily, Reece sat back in his chair. “We’ve had this discussion. We’re not ready to go public.”

  “Maybe not, but we’d be a hell of a lot closer to ready if you quit playing Dick Tracy. You’re not a private investigator, Reece. We’re computer geeks and number crunchers. Stick to what we’re good at, and DMW will flourish.”

  “I’m not abandoning my brothers. You know I can’t do that.”

  “I know.” Dylan walked to the door, but paused before leaving and glanced back. “But, Reece, if it came down to it, would you choose your brothers over all the people who rely on us for their paychecks? Would you really give our employees their pink slips to save your brothers’ struggling business?”

  The answer felt like a betrayal and clogged his throat. It took a hard swallow before he was able to give it voice. “No. I wouldn’t. But it doesn’t matter because I’m going to secure this deal with James. It will keep DMW in the black and give Wilde Security the time it needs to get its legs back under it.”

  “I don’t know about that, buddy.” Dylan shook his head. “I’m a gambling man…but Wilde Security is a risk even I wouldn’t take.”

  Same old discussion, different day. Reece turned to his computer, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “All right.” Dylan tapped his fist lightly against the doorjamb a couple times. “I look forward to meeting your bride. Don’t look forward to kissing James’s saggy ass.”

  Reece stared at the door for a long time after it shut behind his VP. Dylan was 100 percent against this deal with James, but would he actually stoop to blackmail to sabotage it and force the choice between DMW and Wilde Security?

  Reece’s heart said no, but he still pulled up the spreadsheet he’d started and added Dylan’s name under the column labeled “suspects” then took a minute to fill in the other columns, including “motive” and “opportunity” with the information he had. Then he studied the mostly empty sheet. Yes, Dylan had a motive, but where was his opportunity? He hadn’t been in Vegas, but it was possible he had hired someone. He couldn’t be eliminated.

  And that hurt.

  Dammit.

  Reece sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Dylan was right about one thing. He was no Dick Tracy. In fact, he was so out of his element with this, he was at a loss as to where to start. He usually let his brothers handle the investigating part of Wilde Security while he dealt with the finances and the occasional home security installation. But he couldn’t very well hand this problem over to them. There was something going on with Greer, and Reece feared the big guy was silently falling apart. Vaughn was obsessed with finding Lark. Cam was a newlywed, and Reece wasn’t about to dump a problem like this in his lap so soon after the wedding. And Jude…

  Well, Reece could admit to himself in the quiet sanctity of his office it was pride keeping him from asking Jude for help. Last summer they’d taken the first steps toward mending the rift that formed between them after their parents were killed, but they still had a ways to go yet. He wasn’t comfortable enough to take a problem as personal as blackmail to Jude.

  He closed the spreadsheet and sat back in his chair. Dick Tracy or not, he was on his own with this investigation.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shelby had heard the front door open an hour ago, but continued unpacking without so much as peeking out into the living room. She figured she wasn’t Reece’s wife—legally, yes, but not really, not at heart, where it counted—so she didn’t have to meet him at the door with a drink and dinner in the oven.

  Right?

  Crap. She had no clue. The only thing she knew about marriage was what she’d seen on TV. Her mother had been married on and off throughout the years, but those relationships had been toxic, more like a how-not-to-do-marriage guidebook than a good template.

  Not that this was a real marriage, she reminded herself as enticing scents started drifting under her door. Her stomach rumbled, and she pressed a hand to it to quiet it.

  Speaking of having dinner in the oven, she hadn’t eaten all day.

  All right. She couldn’t hide in her room forever.

  Sucking in a breath, she pulled the door open and followed the yummy scents to the kitchen.

  Reece had a bowl tucked in the crook of his arm and was in the process of whisking the hell out of the mixture inside. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscled forearms sprinkled lightly with dark hair, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned, the light smattering of hair on his che
st peeking out. He was wearing glasses—funny, she hadn’t known he needed them before now—and looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. All calm and…

  Sexy as sin.

  And she was staring. She shook herself and walked toward him. “You’re…cooking?”

  “You sound surprised,” he said, barely glancing up at her.

  “I guess I am.” She wandered around the island to take a peek into the oven. She had no idea what was in there, but it smelled spicy and delicious and made her mouth water for a taste. “Most of the bachelors I know can’t even boil water.”

  He returned his attention to his task, pouring the mixture from the bowl into a saucepan. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and splashed some in, then reached for a pair of glasses in a cupboard overhead and poured them each a healthy dose.

  He handed one glass to her, clinked the rims, and tasted his wine before setting it aside. “Technically I’m not a bachelor anymore.”

  She smiled and tasted her wine. “For the next two months at least.”

  This situation wasn’t so bad, after all. Not the least bit awkward like she feared it would be. With all of the angst and uncertainty of the past few days, she had forgotten how truly easy Reece was to get along with. They had always just…clicked, right from the beginning.

  And, let’s be honest, it didn’t hurt he was a gorgeous specimen of a man who apparently knew how to cook.

  Nursing her wine, she leaned against the fridge to watch him. She had no idea what he was doing, but he moved like a man confident in his skills.

  “Seriously,” she said after a moment, “I’m impressed. To tell the truth, I can barely boil water.”

  “Yeah, well. My brothers and I…we were five teenage boys basically living on our own. Someone had to learn or we were going to starve.” He took down a couple plates and started scooping portions of a veggie mix onto each. Then he opened the oven and used a towel to pull out the main entree. Chicken, she noted as he forked a portion onto each plate and slathered the breasts in the sauce he’d just finished.

  “It’s done. We can sit here at the breakfast bar.” He brought the plates over and she chose one of the four high-backed chairs pushed in under the bar. He set one plate in front of her, opened a nearby drawer, and produced a pair of forks.