“Tell you what?” she said, trying not to think about the future and what she was going to do about Mitch Mathews yet. If she did, it’d just make her scream. “If I find it in the next ten minutes, you let me do some shopping on Robson Street before we head home.”
“Fine with me. I’ll hang out in the hotel.”
“We aren’t staying in a hotel, sweetheart.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m already bitter about that fact. My plans to seduce the hell out of you keep getting shot down.”
Seduce the hell out of her? Oh, shit. She was in serious trouble with this one.
“So you’ll come shopping with me,” she said, trying to change the subject.
“I’d rather die a slow and agonizing death at the hands of a sadistic dominatrix.” A grin quirked his lips. “Now there’s a thought.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. He was one great big walking hormone. And God help her, she loved it.
“Now, Mitch.” She turned down a side street. “We’ll get to your fantasies later. Right now, we’re talking shopping—just an hour or so of male torture. Trust me, you’ll love it. There are some adorable boutiques on Robson Street.”
“Kill me now. Wait. Do they have a lingerie store?”
Her stomach fluttered. “Probably.”
“Think you can find a little black, lacy number?”
She pulled to a stop in front of a rambling cedar-sided house on a quiet street. “They might not have your size, honey.”
“Very funny.”
“And since I found the house, that hour’s mine.”
He grasped her arm before she could climb from the car and pulled her close. “Take me to that lingerie store, and I’ll make it worth your while.”
The heat from his eyes all but seared her veins. But when he kissed her, she forgot everything. Why they were here, what they were looking for, why the hell falling into a relationship with him was such a bad idea.
When he eased back, his eyes were dancing with a mixture of heat and humor. “Forget black lace. I think I want you in red leather.”
Red leather? Oh, man.
Her nerves were a jangled mess by the time they walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. She flipped her hair back from her face, straightened her jacket. “Let me do the talking. We don’t need to scare Walter Alexander off first thing.”
“If you use that cool, professional tone on me while wearing red leather lingerie and holding a whip, I’ll definitely listen.”
Her elbow connected with his sternum and he sucked in a breath. But his laughter vibrated through the porch and into her feet, then slithered up to her chest, reminding her just what it was about Mitch Mathews that did it for her. What was likely going to be her undoing if she wasn’t careful.
“God, what is that smell?” Mitch brushed a hand over his nose.
“I don’t know.” Simone leaned her hand against the glass, peeked in a side window. Newspapers littered an antique table. A lime-green crocheted, afghan lay over the side of a chair. A piece of pizza sat atop a paper plate on an end table. Dust littered the surface of most items in the living room. An unopened suitcase was pushed up against the far wall. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”
“I can smell why.”
Foreboding washed over Simone. She jogged down the front steps. A flagstone path graced the side of the house.
“Where are you going?” Mitch asked, following.
She ducked under a low bush and pushed the gate open, giving them access to the backyard. “Reynolds was found in his pool.”
“Whoa. Back up. I suddenly have a bad feeling about this.”
Simone rounded the corner of the house before he could stop her. The stench was stronger in the backyard. A cat darted from behind a tree and disappeared around the side of the house. Her eyes widened when she saw the body, feet sticking out of rhododendron bushes near the back stoop.
She swallowed, hard. “So do I.”
“Oh, hell.” Mitch stepped in front of her, blocking her view.
***
Ryan’s mother, Angela, tucked her auburn hair over her shoulder and laughed, flashing a wide smile. Candlelight from the dinner table flickered across her face. “So, Mitch is belaying at the top of the cliff, and Ryan slips.”
Ryan watched Kate’s brow shoot up across the table. Her apprehension at having to meet his parents had slowly diminished as the evening wore on. They were all seated around his dining room table, empty dishes in front of them, his mother telling embarrassing stories from his youth. In