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 chest 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.”