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And now my lips tasted of honeysuckle wine. His kiss was on my lips like a lingering drink of liquor. I licked my lips, trying to drink the last drops of his kiss.
A moment later, Eli was at my back as I walked. He hummed to himself, as if we were out for a walk at the park instead of going to see a corpse. A guilty whisper in my mind reminded me that I ought to have a little more respect for the dead. This wasn’t a date. Nice girls don’t go to the morgue on their dates.
Or practically dry hump their friends in parking lots.
Of course, if I was a nice girl, a lot of things in my life would be different. I was who I was, and for the most part, I was fine with it. No walk of shame here. Not now, not ever. I straightened my shoulders and strolled across the badly rippled and cracked asphalt. I kept my lazy saunter up until I was at the side entrance to the morgue.
Three men in suits waited at the door like rumpled male Fates who weren’t sure which of them had the scissors. Two of the three looked confused and wary as I approached. The third, Tres, looked at me in hope.
“Miss Crowe,” he said warmly. “I was starting to think you hadn’t received my messages.”
I nodded and cleared my throat. “I had work to handle.”
“Are we still meeting tomorrow?” Tres asked as his gaze raked over me.
I squirmed, wondering what exactly the three men had seen. I wasn’t embarrassed, but it was a bit unprofessional to stop and maul my associate as I had. Perhaps, though, it was no worse than planning to meet my client for reasons that had nothing to do with the case.
“Shall we continue?” Eli said from behind me.
My body heard that question differently than the people with us, and I repressed a shiver of need.
“Lead the way, Mr. Chaddock,” I said as I motioned to the building. The door itself was atypical for the city—it appeared to be a basement floor entry. The illusion was a result of the way the asphalt was built up in the front of the building. There were no deep basements in a city prone to floods, but the morgue was in a new building with architectural oddities, so the men had descended several steps. In the mini stairwell, they were tucked in where they were reasonably secure, illuminated by the greenish light over the thick steel door. It was foolish to be outside in the dark.
“Why aren’t you inside?” I asked.
Tres smiled, and it looked a little creeptastic. Then he sobered and said, “I just arrived, and when I saw the car, I waited for you. That is quite a memorable vehicle.”
“Mr. Chaddock.” Eli stepped forward, ignoring the flattering remark on his car. “Thank you for letting us know about the latest development.”
His professional-sounding voice reminded me that this was a work call. My body might feel half-high on the honeysuckle kiss I just had, but . . . I paused, glanced at Eli, and realized that Ididfeel off. This wasn’t the place to address it, but I would need to address it later. A warm glow had eased over the edges of my usual attitude. I felt calmer, languid, as if I’d been soaked in hot honey until every muscle was loose.
“Can we go inside?” I said bluntly, trying to at least sound like myself despite the mellow feeling which was most likely a side-effect of kissing Eli.
“Of course,” Tres said.
One of the suits opened the door he’d been propping open with his foot. Obviously, at least one of them had been inside. Both men entered in front of Tres, either to lead him or guard him. It wasn’t clear.
I followed behind Tres, and Eli was behind me. The hallway had the sterile look of cheap government buildings. Walls of mint green were illuminated by the harsh lights that buzzed faintly.
“It locks automatically,” Suit One said.
I made a point of pushing the door, so Eli didn’t need to touch it. He had gloves on, knowing where we were headed, but even with gloves, steel was unpleasant for him.
“Geneviève,” Eli said softly.
I slowed so Eli could walk at my side.
“Are you . . . well?”
I nodded once, but I mouthed, “Very calm.” Then I leaned in close enough that my lips were almost touching his ear and whispered, “You taste like honeysuckle wine.”
Despite common sense, I flicked his ear with my tongue while I was there, and for a blink of a moment, I wondered if we could get this done and go somewhere else. Naked Eli. I had a strong suspicion that Naked Eli would be one of my favorite kinds of Eli. Logic tried to shove traitorous thoughts away, but I was standing still, staring at Eli.
“Is everything in order, Miss Crowe?” Tres asked.
“We were at a bar when you contacted us,” Eli said, nudging me to continue walking. “Relaxing with friends.”
“I’m a little tipsy,” I said in a softer than normal voice, an almost girlish sound that really ought to belong to someone else.
