Page 36 of Catnapped

I lean in. “You think he’s dead?”

He gives me a wry look. “You sound like you like that idea.”

Oops. Do I? “Oh.” I shrug. “Well, if someone has to die, better the husband than the cat.”

Carson chuckles, clearly agreeing with me.

21

CARSON

“Alfred Farrol, quite the beneficiary of generational wealth. He died a year ago, it seems. Officially, he had a boating accident off the coast of Thailand. Unofficially, he was partying with several prostitutes on a yacht when he did too much coke, had a stroke, and fell into the water and drowned.” I scroll through some more of my notes. “He and Mrs. Farrol hadn’t been living together for years, though they remained somewhat friendly. Did a few gala appearances every year, things like that.”

“And they had one son, right?”

“Yes, he seems to be on the same path as his father, but that’s a story for another day. As it stands, the husband is a dead end.”

May cuts her gaze toward me. “Another pun?”

“I thought we were only doing cat puns?” I slide my laptop onto the coffee table and lean over to look at her screen.

“We can always branch out if you’re feeling frisky.”

I throw my arm around her shoulders. “I see what you did there.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” She’s digging through articles about Sorcha von Heffinlind, the billionaire heiress who lives alone in Paris, owns properties all over the globe, and in general, leads an extremely luxurious life. “Never married. Fabulously wealthy. Well-traveled. Still looks pretty damn hot for someone in her sixties. What would she even have to be mad about? I mean, if she’d wanted Mr. Farrol and lost him when he got married, the truth is that she dodged a bullet. That guy was no good.”

“Agree.” Why does this feel like we’ve done it a million times? Just the two of us together reading through evidence and background material, as if we’re old-timey cop show partners who finish each other’s sentences. It’s not just comfortable, it’s fuckingwonderful.

“I know,” she says to Mousey, who’s perched on the arm of the couch beside May. “The hats are unmistakable.” She clicks through photo after photo of von Heffinlind, some of them almost thirty years old or more. Always, she’s dressed for the runway, and for the vast majority of the time, she’s wearing a hat. It’s her trademark. May keeps scrolling, then stops. “Look at this!” She points to an advertisement from an old magazine with a paparazzi shot of von Heffinlind looking sly as she leaves a swanky apartment building. In the foreground is a perfume bottle labeled,Have the Affair. In script, it says,My signature scent. Smell like an heiress.

“Do you think you could identify the smell from the house that day? The strange one?” she asks Mousey.

I grab my phone and search for the closest department store.

“She can.” May turns to me.

“Already on it. They still make that same perfume.” I place a rush order, for immediate delivery. “Should be here in thirty minutes or less.” I get a message from Squirrel, headlined “found the plates and more,” but toss my phone.

She keeps tapping through gossip rag stories, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. I follow the line of her neck to the pale skin of her bare shoulder.

“I can get a lot done in thirty minutes.” She taps her screen to enlarge a photo of our quarry.

“So can I.” I press my lips to her shoulder.

A small gasp catches in her throat.

Mousey jumps down and disappears as I toss May’s laptop onto the side chair. I kiss along her exposed skin, every inch of it having taunted me for the entire time we were out investigating. Does she have any idea what she does to me? It’s a wonder I could concentrate at all when we were alone at the country club. Even in that ridiculous room covered in Mrs. Farrol memorabilia, I was completely attuned to May, to her sharp mind and each twist or turn her thoughts took. To the way her skin has this amazing luminosity, as if she’s almost glowing.

I keep kissing, my tongue trailing along her softness as I move to her collarbone. Her breath hitches, her head lolling back as I trace the line of it, every bit of her soft and sweet.

“What are you doing to me?” Her voice is breathy, so fucking sexy.

“What I’ve been thinking about doing from the moment I saw you.” I take her chin and pull her mouth to mine, kissing herwith every bit of my raw need. I was comfortable sitting here with her, working together like two old friends. But I can’t deny my attraction, my constant desire to touch her. As much as I love her unique mind, I’m just as obsessed with her body.

Her hands go to my shoulders as I push her back onto the couch, my body pressing into hers as a soft moan rises in her throat.

It takes every ounce of willpower I have, but I break the kiss for a moment. “Is it too much?” I grate out, staring into her eyes. Can she feel how hard my heart is beating, how much I want her?

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