I blow out a breath. “Probably. What in the world is a forgotten place that isn’t a sexual reference? Is there a hidden closet or something?”
Her finger pops up. “A hidden bookcase?”
We both make our way to examine the books, even pull out a few, but nothing. I scratch my jaw, no longer in the mood for the game.
“Isn’t the whole point of being a lawyer searching for clues and solving them? Discovery or something like that?”
I look at her, impressed. “Wow, someone is throwing out legal terms.”
She flashes her eyes at me. “I’m full of surprises.”
My eyes narrow as I watch her read the spines of the books. Her fingers crawl along the titles, and her half smile floats. She’s an image of Alice in Wonderland with more skin showing.
“Got it.” She snaps her fingers, breaking me from her spell. Before I can process, she rushes back to the sofa and her hand dives between the cushions. “Voila. Everyoneforgets about the cracks in the sofa.” Esme pulls up a white handkerchief with a lipstick stain and a small notecard.
This is your clue to bring back to dinner. Evidence left behind from your morning endeavors.
“Really?” My voice squeaks. “Kit Parker and Lola Jazz decided to use the study? Classy.” A suave grin hits me.
“Ugh, now we can move on. I’m hungry,” Esme whines.
I reach for the handkerchief, but she keeps her grip tight. “What? I’ll put it in my inner pocket with my cigars.”
“Cigars? You really went all in for this.”
“Really? I’m not the one carrying around a flask between her thighs.”
Her face remains steady. “I can hold the evidence just fine.”
“Just give it to me.” I manage to clasp the end of the cloth.
But she yanks it away. “No.” She wins, and she’s already tucking it near her tits under a strap.
“Aren’t we a little jezebel tonight.”
“I am, because I might not have mentioned yet that by accident, I hit your mailbox earlier when I returned home,” she casually throws out.
My face falls. “What?”
Esme shrugs and holds her hands up in defense. “I just wasn’t paying attention when I got home earlier from a shoot. I was hoping to inform you tomorrow when we are probably all hungover.”
I gripe and begin to lead us out. “You really have zero respect for my property. So inconsiderate.” Now I’m getting boiled again.
“I’m not sorry. You deserve it.”
My nose tips up. “Did you just say that you’re not sorry?”
“Yes, Mr. Respect for Property. The man who for sure destroys some of my boxes just to piss me off.”
Well, that several minutes of peace just went out the door.
We walk down the hall bickering again. “Then don’t fucking have the boxes delivered to my house.”
“Message has been clear from the get-go. Geesh, I don’t even get this cranky when your stupid newspaper ends up on my lawn. And who the hell still has newspapers delivered?”
I hold my finger up, ready to school the hell out of this woman. “First, the former owner had a lifetime subscription and forgot to end it. Secondly, it’s the Sunday paper, including financial news, and that accompanies my morning coffee perfectly.”
Esme snorts a sound and bites her inner cheek. “Stealing and boring. Sounds about right.”
