couldn’t handle surveillance. “No problem. Surveillance is one of our specialties.”
“I see.” The man seemed to be weighing whether or not to trust Tyler. “Her name is Jenna McBride,” he finally said.
“And your name?” asked Tyler, picking up a pencil and pulling a scratch pad closer on the desktop.
There was a slight hesitation on the line. “Brandon Rice. She’s my fiancée.”
“You think she’s cheating?” asked Tyler. Cheating was far and away the most common reason for a man to have his significant other followed.
Derek stood up, pacing across the room, a scowl on his face. Chasing cheating fiancées was obviously not his idea of a stellar career move. Too bad. It wasn’t like Tyler was in a position to be choosy. True, it wasn’t his usual area of business, but this was the kind of job he needed right now—quick, uncomplicated cash.
“Yes,” said Brandon Rice. “I think she’s cheating. I’m in Boston, and she’s in Seattle. I want a full report on her activities. Where she goes, who she sees. She has a decorating business. Canna Interiors.”
Tyler jotted down the woman’s name and the name of her business. “Is there anyone in particular you think she’s seeing?”
Derek made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. Well, hell, every case couldn’t be a crown jewel theft or a murder mystery. A guy still had to pay the bills.
Some days more than others.
“I want to know everything,” said Brandon. “Money is not an issue. I want to know everyone she sees. Everything she does.”
Tyler tapped the pencil eraser against the desktop. Reggie had taken on cases like this before. Rich man, pretty woman, edge of desperation. There was probably a big age difference.
“I’ll pay you ten thousand plus expenses,” said Brandon. “One week. A full report. And I mean full.”
Tyler resisted the urge to scowl at the phone, aware of Derek’s keen interest. He always submitted a full report to his clients—no matter what his opinion of them.
If this fiancée had any brains at all, she’d stay in Seattle and well away from Mr. Demanding. Of course, she was the one who’d agreed to marry the guy in the first place.
She was probably willing to put up with his crap for the money. Women generally did forgive a whole lot of ills for a whole lot of bank balance.
“When do you want me to start?” asked Tyler.
“Today,” barked Brandon. “I want you to start today.”
“You got it,” said Tyler. “Where do I send the report?”
After jotting down Brandon’s contact information, Tyler hung up the phone.
“You’re going to follow a cheating wife?” asked Derek.
“Fiancée,” Tyler corrected, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness.
“But you won’t lower yourself to join the family firm and negotiate with offshore investors?”
“You really want to help me?” asked Tyler, ignoring his big brother’s sarcasm, pretending it didn’t bite. From experience Tyler knew the best way to get Derek off his back was to give him a mission.
“Name it,” said Derek, pulling his checkbook out of his suit pocket.
“I’m not taking your money. If you really want to be useful, you can head over to Canna Interiors.”
Without Reggie as a second body, Tyler was handicapped. “I need to know how many employees are there. What kind of an outfit it is. And what Jenna McBride looks like. But I can’t let her see me yet.”
“Can I have one of those fountain pen cameras and a decoder ring?” asked Derek.
“Don’t be an ass.” Tyler stood up and shoved his big brother toward the door.
“But, Tyler, how am I going to case the joint without the proper James Bond paraphernalia?”
“Just tell me what she looks like, and what they do, so I can make a plan.” That ten thousand would go a long way towards operating expenses for the next couple of months.
2
“JENNA MCBRIDE?”
Jenna stopped short, halfway into the Canna Interiors offices as the large man rose from a white leather chair in the reception area.
“Mr. Reeves has been waiting for half an hour,” said her secretary, Rosemary, a lilt of excitement in her voice, and an appreciative glimmer in her eyes.
Rosemary was a grandmother in her early fifties, but Jenna could see why a woman of any age might find the burly Mr. Reeves attractive. She heard Candice suck in a quick, admiring breath behind her.
“Yes. I’m Jenna McBride.” She moved toward the waiting area, hand extended. “And this is my partner Candice Hammond.” For an impish moment, Jenna considered adding the fact that Candice was single.
“Derek Reeves,” said the man, grasping Jenna’s hand.
Then he turned to Candice and gave her a cursory glance and a nod.
“Candice,” said Candice, offering her hand.
He shook it with an absent nod, then he immediately turned back to Jenna. “I was wondering if we might talk for a few minutes?”
She felt Candice stiffen.
Jenna half turned her head to smile in Candice’s direction in an effort to include her. “How can we help you?”
Derek Reeves gestured to the low table in the reception area. “I’ve been reviewing your portfolio.” He still spoke directly to Jenna. He almost seemed to be studying her face.
“You’re interested in the services of a decorating firm?” she asked politely. Judging by the cut of his suit, Derek could be a great prospective customer.
“Uh…yeah.” He nodded. “That’s right. I am.”
“We’ll probably be more comfortable in the boardroom.” Jenna gestured to an open doorway behind the receptionist’s desk. While the man’s attention switched to the boardroom door, she signaled to the coffeepot.
Rosemary gave her a quick nod of understanding.
Derek Reeves glanced at Candice, then back at Jenna. He cleared his throat. “Sounds fine.”
“I have a conference call in about two minutes,” Candice quickly inserted, obviously picking up the same strange signals as Jenna. “Do you mind, Jenna?”
“Of course not.” Jenna reminded herself that Derek was the customer, and Candice was acting like a professional. Still,
