He gestured. “So you’re obviously here in Chicago. I take it that means your interview with Michael’s firm went well? And . . . if it didn’t, I’m going to feel real awkward for having just asked that question.”

She laughed. “You’re safe. I’m a director there now. Speaking of which,” she turned, to make the introductions. “Karen Wetzel, Tyler Roland.”

Karen and Tyler exchanged hellos. The light turned and the three of them crossed the street.

“So if I remember correctly, you and Michael are family friends?” Sidney asked him.

He nodded. “Our parents have known each other for years. Plus, he and I play squash together—even though he’s terrible.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “No. But tell him I said it, anyway. He’s so competitive—it’ll drive him nuts.”

They slowed down after reaching the corner. “I’m heading this way. Off to court,” Tyler said, pointing south. “You?”

Sidney pointed north. “This way.”

“Well, then, it was really nice running into you again. Sidney . . . ?” Tyler cocked his head questioningly.

“Sinclair.”

“Sidney Sinclair. I like that.” He held her gaze for a moment, then said good-bye to her and Karen.

“He seems nice,” Karen said, as they walked in the opposite direction.

Sidney nodded. “Yes, he does.”

 • • •

THURSDAY MORNING, SIDNEY heard a knock at her office door. She looked over and saw Michael standing in the doorway, holding a newspaper.

“I see we made the Journal this morning,” he said, stepping inside and taking a seat at her desk. There’d been an article discussing the installation of Karen Wetzel as the new CEO of Vitamin Boutique, in which they’d described the firm’s acquisition of the company to be “a deal to watch.”

“I think Karen’s going to be a great fit,” Sidney said. They talked shop for a while, and she shared with Michael the next steps she planned to take with Vitamin Boutique, as well as a new company she was eying as a potential acquisition.

“I know I speak for the entire investment committee when I say how impressed we’ve been with your leadership and direction of this fund. Of course, I’ve been taking full credit for this as the person who recruited you,” Michael joked.

Sidney chuckled. “I bet you have.”

Michael tapped the arms of the chair with his hands. “There’s another reason I dropped by this morning. Apparently you ran into my friend Tyler the other day?”

In the flurry of hiring Karen, Sidney had completely forgotten about that. “Oh, yes. He wanted me to tell you that you’re terrible at squash.”

“That’s interesting, considering I just wiped the floor with him yesterday.” Michael pulled something out of the pocket of his suit jacket. “When we were leaving the gym, he asked me to give you this.”

He handed her a business card.

“I guess you made something of an impression on him. He said he wanted to give you his card the other day, but he sensed you might be in the middle of a business lunch and didn’t think it was appropriate.” Before she could say anything, Michael held up his hand. “Look, I don’t know if you’re single, and, frankly, I don’t need to know. Call him, e-mail him, or don’t. I’m just a messenger here—the rest is up to you.”

Michael stood up to head out, but paused in the doorway. “He also said I’m supposed to tell you that he’s a good guy.” He held up his hands. “That’s it. I swear, I’m out of this now.”

Sidney liked working with Michael, and respected his opinion quite a bit. “And what do you say? Is he a good guy?”

Michael gave her a slight smile, as if to say that this was self-evident. “I wouldn’t have given you the card if he wasn’t.”

Sidney stared down at the card after he left. She flipped it over and saw that Tyler had written her a message.

Maybe next time we can meet for more than two minutes?

Well, this was . . . unexpected. A quick Google search showed that he was a partner at Kendall & Jameson, a successful boutique labor and employment law firm. Which meant she could check off that box already: he was settled in his career. But beyond that, this Tyler guy came with a “recommended” label; he’d been referred by someone she trusted.

Perhaps she’d just been handed her first real lead in the search for Mr. Right.

Twenty-six

WITH FRIDAY CAME the end of a long workweek for Vaughn.

He and Huxley had picked up a new assignment, after receiving a tip from a Chicago nightclub owner who claimed that the head of the city code compliance department had demanded from him a cash payoff in exchange for not enforcing a large fine for what the club owner insisted was a bogus code violation. As part of the investigation, the plan was that an undercover agent would pose as the club’s manager, and together he and the owner would make the payoff to the head inspector. Unfortunately, Vaughn was already working undercover in the Pritchett investigation, and since agents worked hard not to be involved in multiple UC roles at the same time, they had decided that Huxley would pose as the nightclub’s manager—the younger agent’s first time taking on a speaking undercover role after a botched attempt three years ago that had been stymied by a poorly timed case of the stomach flu.

To put it mildly, Huxley was stoked.