Page 23

Mitch looked up from the white powder in the can.
She stormed toward him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He replaced the lid and held out the illegal drug. “Is this why you don’t want to call the police?”
Chapter 5
Did the deliveryman need to slam that beer keg down so hard?
Cath rubbed her tired face. The usual bustle of trucks and step vans filled Bourbon Street this morning. She simply hadn’t gotten enough sleep. “You don’t need to escort me. I’m perfectly capable of getting to my office on my own.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Mitch Guidry detoured around the beer salesman.
Last night during supper, he’d asked about the drugs he’d discovered in her brother’s backpack. While she’d admitted that Les must still be using, she knew nothing else about them and had flushed them down the drain as soon as Mitch left. If her brother needed anything, it was to go into rehab, not jail. But Mr. Handsome Bounty Hunter didn’t care. He only wanted his money.
Like a zombie in a B-grade movie, he’d reappeared outside her door at five forty-five this morning. A spruced-up, clean-shaven version emitting a whisper of sandalwood. His delicious body parts seemed more in proportion too. Very nice proportion, not that she cared one way or the other. “Were you wearing a police vest last night?”
“Absolutely.” He spread his arms to give her a view of his crisp shirt with the button-down collar. He could be on his way to work at a bank if he weren’t packing heat in a shoulder holster. “You disappointed with what you see now?”
He’d seen her ogling, darn. “Why do you care what I think?”
“I like you.”
She rolled her eyes. He wanted something else from her. Why else come back?
Up ahead, a janitor sprayed trash off the sidewalk. She paused for him to divert his hose before walking through. “I thought you’d be out beating the bushes looking for my brother.”
“You thought of me?”
Yes. All night. She clenched her jaw, intent on saying nothing, but her stupid mouth had other ideas. “After a fashion.”
“Wow.” He flashed his pearly whites. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I think about all sorts of things. That’s nothing special.” You’re nothing special. He could be, though. He had the broad shoulders and precise gestures she’d always found so attractive. Plus, they shared this strange affinity of both having brothers with hearing loss.
He likely thought he had her wound around his little finger, but when he’d appeared so conveniently with a handyman friend, she’d given in to his offer as the most practical solution. She had to lead the Crescent City Haunts City of the Dead tour this morning, and her landlord would be hours away from sending a repairman. “We’re not at the point where either of us should care what the other thinks. We’re still strangers, after all.”
He raised that sexy eyebrow. She’d already slotted this silly attraction into a marble vault like those in the city’s famous cemeteries, but heat still liquified certain of her private parts.
A French bread deliveryman rushed past with long, brown paper bags full of loaves. Cath waited for the bread man to duck into the service door of a restaurant. Mitch’s arm bumped hers seconds before he abruptly pulled her aside. A uniformed man carrying a stack of fresh linen on his shoulder hustled past to go inside.
“Thanks. I didn’t see him.” With a body like his, Mitch could hold onto her any time. Too bad his pushiness got in the way. His fingers still pressed through her sleeve and brought his delectable body too close. She lifted her gaze. “Do you mind?”
He let go, and the dark smudge on his neck caught her eye. What she’d thought was grime last night looked like a tattoo. Swirls of ink disappeared under the collar of his brown checkered shirt, and her mouth grew parched.
He glanced at her. “What?”
She jerked her gaze away. Lots of people had tattoos. Goth rockers, gang members, arrogant bounty hunters.
If she expressed interest, he’d think he was getting to her. A hop, skip, and a jump away from manipulating her. She gripped her purse strap. “Nothing.”
“How can you say that after all we’ve been through?”
She couldn’t say anything without him diverting the conversation. Making it personal. Making it hot. “Easy.” She shrugged. “I know how to face the truth.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Her mouth dropped open. He thought he knew all about her?