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She pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and slipped them on. After a lifetime of dodging thinking about Ben at all, Reese needed to cover a lot of ground.
And she recognized that every detail she learned would come with an emotional price.
15
Tyler Greenley’s morning was packed with meetings, and noon on Tuesdays was a designated working lunch with his team. Delaying his second appointment for a few minutes, he made a phone call and waited impatiently to be connected. When the familiar voice sounded in his ear, he didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “It’s Tyler. We’ve got a problem. Julia Backworth’s niece ambushed me this morning. Reese Decody.”
He listened for a moment, then said, “I mean she just showed up at my table where I was eating my damn breakfast and sat down. She asked about the decision-making that went into the changes for the growth strategy on the trust’s account. Pretended not to know much about financial planning, but made a point of mentioning the research she did on Merrill and Hathaway.” Tyler opened a drawer and took out a stress ball stamped with his firm’s name. Squeezed it reflexively, the repetition soothing. “They’re another asset management company in the area. Her series of articles were responsible for the SEC starting an investigation. People went to prison.” He recalled reading those columns avidly at the time, with more than a bit of sympathy for the poor bastards involved. Whenhe’d looked up and recognized Decody at the table this morning, instant alarm had stabbed through him, which their resulting conversation hadn’t calmed.
“Easy for you to say. This can go wrong in so many ways, and it’s my ass on the line. She’s planning to schedule a formal meeting.” Bad enough that he had to face his supervisors’ pointed questioning of the strategy behind his recent handling of Ben Decody’s funds. He had iron-clad record-keeping to verify the discussions where Rivers had recommended the changes he made. But it wouldn’t survive the microscope the SEC would place it under, especially if they leaned on the attorney.
His contact was great at delivering platitudes, but they did little to alleviate Tyler’s anxiety. “That’s all well and good, but even if Decody isn’t named the conservator, she can still make noise about the account. She’s a family member, after all. She could petition the court to bring in an outside auditor.”
He listened for another minute before saying, “If you say so. I just wanted you to be aware. I’ve gotta go.” He dropped the stress ball into the open drawer, shut it, and rose, pasting a smile on his face as he went out to welcome his next client. He felt a modicum better but wouldn’t be completely appeased until a new plan was developed to mitigate the threat Decody posed.
16
After lunch, Hayes seemed restless. Because Reese couldn’t concentrate when the man paced the apartment like a caged tiger, she suggested he go to the building’s weight room to run off some energy. He refused, so against her better judgment, she agreed to accompany him to a park offering colorful fall foliage and miles of walking trails.
An agreement she regretted with every fiber of her being a couple of hours later when she halted at the edge of the trail, leaned over with her hands braced on her thighs, and gasped for air.
He stopped beside her, jogging in place. “You’re not running. That looks very much like quitting.” Sticking his palm out, he wiggled his fingers. “You owe me twenty.”
She couldn’t respond until her heart stopped thundering in her chest. “I’m pausing the bet.”
“Until…”
“Until I can breathe again.”
He grinned at her, still moving in place. “You gotta pace yourself. You wasted all your energy in the first few minutes. Gotta save some kick to last you through the entire race.”
She flicked him a glance filled with dislike. “You might have mentioned that you’re a marathon runner.”
“But not a sprinter. Next time place a bet on a hundred-yard dash. You’d be a shoo-in.” Reese could have told him there wouldn’t be a next time, but that’d have to wait until she wasn’t strangled for air. Straightening, she said, “Just go ahead. I’ll still be within sight.”
She was unsurprised when he shook his head. There were hours at a time when Reese could push the reason for Hayes’s presence here from her mind. But he never forgot. He’d suggested driving Julia’s vehicle this time and used a different exit from the garage. She recognized that the threat was never far from his thoughts. The realization wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. She’d figured the task force would round up Thorne fairly quickly. It’d been only two days, but Reese was beginning to fear that Hayes may be here much longer than she’d contemplated.
He still had his palm out. She smacked it away. “You’ll have to wait until we get back to the apartment. I don’t have any money on me.”
“Don’t think I won’t. You seem like a grifter, as well as a plodder.”
“And you seem like a pain in the ass.” He was barely breathing hard, and damn him, the sheen of sweat just gilded his good looks. Reese knew without checking that it was far less kind to her.
“Look.” He pointed across the park. “There’s an ice cream stand. If you can run that far—at your own pace—I’ll buy you a treat.”
“Gee, thanks, Dad.” But his words were motivation enough to get her moving again. While it was irritating to observe just how much he shortened his stride to match her speed, that wasn’t nearly as annoying as watching the appreciative glanceshe received from every woman passing by, whether they were jogging or pushing a stroller. Equally exasperating was Reese’s awareness of his muscled legs, well-developed calves, and his bare arms roped with muscle.
Her hiatus from dating had obviously lasted for too long.
Shaking off the disturbing thoughts, she put on a burst of speed and dashed ahead.
“Double or nothing. I’ll race you to the stand.” She lost again, but Hayes paid for the ice cream, which was the only thing she was likely to win that afternoon. They sat on a landscaped wall edging the trail and ate their cones.
“I think I got hustled.” She licked the bottom edge of her ice cream to prevent it from dripping down to her fingers.
“And yet I’m the one who paid for these.”
“Only fair since you neglected to mention that you were a track star.” She studied him. “Admit it. Probably went to state as a high schooler. Or a track scholarship in college.”