“The play wouldn’t exist if it didn’t work sometimes,” he said with a coaxing look.
“I don’t know much about football, but I know enough to know it’s not an actual play,” I groused. “Besides, when did you start falling for pipe dreams?”
He laughed. “Maybe you’re rubbin’ off on me.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss, then got out of bed. “I’m gonna take a shower. Why don’t you see if you can get us an appointment with your developer?”
“Yeah,” I said, still lost in thought. “Okay.”
He went into the bathroom, and I heard the shower turn on. I looked up Miles Harlan’s business name and number on the internet, then called and told his receptionist I had a large commercial building and wanted to see what Miles could do for me.
“I can fit you in tomorrow,” she said. “Say, three o’clock?”
Dammit. That was too late. “Sorry,” I said sympathetically. “We’ve been talking to another developer, and we’re supposed to give him an answer by six o’clock tonight. I decided to see if we could get another opinion before committing to a thirty-million-dollar contract.” I cringed, hoping I’d thrown out a number big enough to get her attention, but not so big it sounded ridiculous. “I guess we’ll just go with the other guy.”
“Thirty million, you say?” The number had definitely gotten her attention.
“Yes, but I understand if Mr. Harlan is too busy,” I said politely. “Thank you for your time.”
“Wait,” she said in a rush. “Let me talk to him. I think he might be able to fit you in today after all.” Music filled my ear after she put me on hold.
Less than twenty seconds later, she was back. “I told Mr. Harlan about your situation, and he says he’ll be happy to meet you at one here at his office. Does that work for you? Ms.—I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name.”
“Amber Beachum,” I said, keeping my voice professional. “The meeting will be with me and my husband, Jeff. Tell Mr. Harlan that we look forward to meeting with him.” I hung up, pleased with myself for coercing him to meet with us today.
I only hoped this plan wouldn’t crash and burn.
Chapter 27
I was glad we’d done some shopping the day before. Since we were attending a business meeting, I put on a silky light blue blouse with a navy suit and low, black heels. I also wore the long, dark wig and some light makeup.
When I emerged from the bathroom, James grinned in appreciation. “Damn. You are a woman of many personas, Detective Adams.”
“You clean up pretty well yourself.” It was an understatement. He was wearing a white dress shirt with a light blue tie, gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. To top it off, he was wearing a pair of glasses, which somehow made him even more attractive. His hair, which was usually slightly unruly, had been tamed and slicked back. It was strange seeing him dressed up like this, but he wore it well.
“You like the businessman look?” he asked, then lifted the frame of his glasses slightly. “Do you buy that I’m a distinguished millionaire looking to diversify his portfolio with real estate?”
I’d given him a cocky grin. “Are you into role playing, Mr. Malcolm?” But was it really a role when he likely was a millionaire who diversified his portfolio?
He eyed me up and down. “Not normally, but it wouldn’t take much for you to coerce me.”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I should, considering we were about to try to steal a businessman’s computer files. So much could go wrong, but we’d come up with a semblance of a plan.
First, we needed Harlan to sign into his computer.
The next piece of the plan had to be left up to chance, which James detested. We’d wait for Harlan to brag about something he owned. It could be a fly-fishing tackle shadowbox or a taxidermized squirrel. Anything. The plan was for James to act like an asshole in the beginning, but then show interest in the man’s pride and joy. Harlan—if it all went to plan—would be eager to show it off in the hopes of winning him over.
Once I was alone, I’d pull an external hard drive (which we planned to purchase on the way) out of my purse and attach it to the computer, then download as many files as I could before Harlan and James came back.
But that was phase two. Phase one was to see what we could get out of the receptionist before we even met with her boss. We both had roles to play—I was the talkative wife, and James would be the reluctant husband who had already decided on our developer and was only humoring me, albeit with an attitude.
James and I pulled into the parking lot of Harlan Commercial Properties about ten minutes early. Carter had arranged a luxury sedan to fit our roles, and I wasn’t complaining after the last few rides we’d been stuck with.
When we walked into the lobby, the receptionist beamed at us. She had a friendly smile and wore a blouse, little makeup, and a simple hairstyle—not overly dressed for her public-facing job. The reception area looked like it had last been furnished in the nineties—everything was in jewel tones and very worn. Based on her appearance and the waiting room, Harlan Commercial Properties wasn’t used to higher-end clients. I suspected she and Harlan saw us as big fish they were desperate to land.
“Mr. and Mrs. Beachum,” she said sweetly from behind her desk. “My name’s Beth, and I’m Mr. Harlan’s right-hand person. He’s wrapping up a call, but he’ll be with you in about five minutes.”
“Hmm,” James said, walking over to a wall to look at a photograph of an office building.
She cast James a nervous look. “Can I get you water or coffee?”
