Catching Claire by Cindy Procter-King Read Free Book Online Page A

top. She tossed
the G-string—pardon him, thong —and pink lingerie onto the desk, then rummaged
through the bag again.
    “Damn it, I wanted to make sure he—I’m pretty sure
the thief is a he—didn’t steal more samples, so I grabbed as many
as possible before catching the bus over.” Out flew blue underwear
and a yellow slip thing. “Trouble is, these prototypes take up so
much room I’m having trouble finding my wallet.” The shopping bag
coughed up a purple bra and some flimsy, pale green panties.
    Derek put down his pen. “Don’t worry about the
wallet.” Did she think she had to pay him?
    “I see it!” She continued emptying the bag until an
explosion of frothy colors littered his desk, reminding him of his
twin sister Janie’s rooftop garden after her ex-boyfriend broke her
heart and she’d weed-whacked every blossom formerly planted in
honor of their love.
    It occurred to him Janie would like Miss DeMarco. He
could visualize the two of them whacking blossoms together.
    “Ah ha!” The blonde produced a slim wallet. A cell
phone clattered out of the bag, bouncing across the lingerie and
clunking his jar of pens. Amid the chaos, she opened the wallet,
withdrew a business card, and handed it to him.
    A flowery script on creamy stock announced: Lacey’s Little
Underthings. Lacey DeMarco, President and Head Designer .
    “Lacey?” Derek muttered. “Give me a break.” Yeah, she’s a
wing-nut .
    A blush stained her face. “That’s right, Lacey
DeMarco. My mother, Cather—uh, Christina DeMarco, is the famous
lingerie designer out of Milan. My sister is Silken and my brother
is Teddy. My mother believes in theme names.”
    “Does she now?” Placing aside the card, Derek
pressed down another smile. He’d never heard of Christina DeMarco.
Or Cather-uh DeMarco. “Look, I need to understand the situation. If
someone’s stealing your underwear, what’s all this?” He sifted his
fingers through the pile.
    She gazed at the heap. “This is...what’s left. What
I’ve rescued.”
    “Mm-hm. From the culprit, you mean?”
    “Yes.” Her voice rose. “This hasn’t been stolen.
Yet.” She stuffed the cell phone and lingerie back into the
bag.
    Derek picked up the green panties and studied the
inside label. Well,
lookee here . The hand-stitched label read Lacey’s Little Underthings ,
like her business card.
    Maybe his sexy wing-nut was on the up-and-up.
    “Okay.” He tossed her the panties, which she caught
with surprising deftness. “Please sit.” He indicated the chair in
front of his desk. On his computer, he saved the grid he’d drafted
showing a week of vehicle thefts. “Tell me what happened,” he said
as he logged out of the computer and reached for his notepad.
    She remained standing. “I’d rather tell you on the
way over.” She shoved the wadded panties into the bag.
    “The way over where?”
    “My place.”
    “Your place?”
    “My design studio—it’s in my apartment. That’s where
the theft occurred. Don’t you want to inspect the scene of the
crime?”
    “I’d rather take notes first.”
    Her eyebrows high-jumped. “I don’t have time! I
never know when he might strike again. He’s already plundered me
twice!”
    Derek chuckled. “The panty thief?”
    “The corporate panty raider,” Lacey returned in an uppity
tone he swore she employed to disguise her obvious jitters.
Because, if her dress was anything to go by, she didn’t look the
uppity type.
    “Lacey’s Little Underthings is a legitimate company,
Detective McAllister. I’ve produced my business card. I demand your
respect.”
    Derek tapped the pad against his palm. Finishing the
vehicle theft grid could wait. While he didn’t buy into Lacey’s
business-card definition of respect, she deserved his attention and
protection as much as any other Rosewood citizen. Even if he wasn’t
technically on-duty.
    “Just a minute,” he told her. He got up and strode
to the counter. “Harding. I need a