Drop Dead Sexy(42)

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Your face is all red, and you seem to be out of breath.”

“I’m fine,” I reiterated.

I was so going to kill Catcher. Well, I would at least screw him again. Or maybe twice. I might even try to let him break his eight orgasm record on me.

Then I would kill him.





After Mrs. Laughton’s burial, I drove the hearse back to the funeral home to get my car. Since it was close to four and we didn’t have any visitations that night, I locked up both my office and the funeral home before heading to my house to get ready for my date. I mean, I assumed it was a date. Of course, Catcher hadn’t mentioned anything about getting dinner, a drink, or any of the other usual date-like occurrences. Just that he wanted me to go with him to check out this lead.

Oh and he wanted to finger-f*ck me while we were on the road. Yes, I certainly didn’t want to forget that little detail.

I took a quick shower before doing my hair and makeup. Since we would be outdoors at a tent service, I slid on a plum-colored silk blouse and paired it with a black skirt with a flaring hem that hit at my knees. With the February chill in the air, I put on a pair of thigh highs along with my black knee boots and pulled on my black jacket.

My doorbell rang just a few minutes before six, sending Motown into a barking fit. “Easy boy,” I cajoled as I started down the hall.

After unbolting the door, I threw it open to find Catcher dressed to kill in a navy suit. My gaze dropped from his handsome face to his hands where he held a book, rather than a usual bouquet of flowers.

I crossed my arms over my chest and grinned at him. “Are you going to throw the book at me, Agent Mains?”

He smirked at me. “Not quite. I wanted to do something nice like bring you flowers, but I imagined that after working in a funeral home, you might get tired of the smell.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise at both his thoughtfulness and insight. Whenever men had given me flowers in the past, I would merely smile and say thank you. The truth was I so associated the sickeningly sweet floral smell to my job that I hated to be around them anywhere else.

“You’re right I do.”

Catcher’s face lit up. “I knew it.” He held out the book to me. “I thought you might like this better.”

After taking the book, I glanced down at the cover. When I saw it was a hardback of To Kill a Mockingbird, tears stung my eyes as my hand flew to my mouth, which caused the book to fall to the ground. “Shit!” I muttered.

Catcher and I both leaned forward to pick it up and ended up bumping heads. “Ow!” I cried as Catcher said, “Fuck!”

With shaky hands, I picked up the book. Once again my vision blurred with tears as I ran my fingertips over the cover.

“It’s a first edition.”

I tore my gaze from the book up to him. “Catcher, this is too much. I can’t accept this.”

“Sure you can.”

Holding the book out to him, I protested, “But this is worth a lot of money.”

He waved his hand at me. “It’s like a hundredth printing of the first edition. And it’s not even signed. You probably couldn’t even get a hundred bucks out of it.”

Overcome with emotion, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. When I pulled back, I gave him a long, lingering kiss. I then cupped one of his cheeks with my free hand. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

He grinned. “Hell, I’ll give you a book a day if it means I’ll get this kind of attention.”

I laughed. “Do you have a never-ending pile of the classics stashed away to woo women with?”

“Not exactly. My maternal grandmother was a librarian in Monroeville.”

“Where Harper Lee lived?”

Catcher nodded. “You could say she got a little sneaky with the copies sometimes.”

I laughed. “Are you telling me this is a hot copy?”

After Catcher took the book from me, he opened up the front flap. When I gazed down and read Property of Monroeville Library, I snorted. “Once again, I think our grandmothers would have been the best of friends.”

“Probably so.”

“Regardless of how you came to get the copy, I’m very grateful.”

“You’re welcome.” With a wicked grin, he added, “Now why don’t you show me again just how grateful you are?”

I smacked him in the chest with the book. “Nice try, but we have work to do, remember?”

Catcher groaned. “Being an agent is so cock-blocking.”

“Come on in. I just need one second to grab my purse.”

Catcher started into the foyer when a woof of greeting from Motown had him skidding to a stop. After getting a good look at the somewhat gnarly looking pit bull, Catcher took a step back. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.”

When Motown gave a low growl, Catcher cocked his brows. “You sure about that?”

“Positive. Trust me, he’s the biggest pansy and worst guard dog ever. He just wants to lick you to death.”

With apprehension in his eyes, Catcher stepped inside. He held out his hand for Motown to sniff. Instead of getting a whiff, Motown proceeded to lick and slobber all over Catcher’s hand. Catcher grinned. “I think he likes me.”