The Cat Sitter’s Pajamas by Blaize Clement Read Free Book Online Page A

being on the sidelines of a murder investigation. My blood always tingled like that when I thought of Ethan. I hadn’t seen him for a good while, and then just briefly in the parking lot of the Village Diner, but Ethan and I had always set off lust sparks in each other. There had been a time when I’d had to make a decision about pursuing romantic possibilities with Ethan, but I had wanted Guidry’s slightly dangerous company more than Ethan’s reliable solidness.
    Ethan’s office occupies one of the old sand-softened stucco buildings in the village. He inherited the building and the law practice from his grandfather and has never seen fit to modernize any of it. The entrance door from the sidewalk has a glass top with flaked gilt lettering reading ETHAN CRANE, ESQ. A cramped foyer is mostly taken up by a wide staircase leading to the second floor. The dark wooden steps are thinner and paler at their centers from generations of feet stepping on them. At the top of the stairs, a wide lobby separates a receptionist’s office from a library and conference room. Ethan’s office is at the back of the lobby. If his door is open, he can see anybody who climbs the stairs.
    His door was open. An old oaken hat rack with a rung for umbrellas stands in the corner of his office. When Ethan works at his desk, he removes his suit jacket and hangs it neatly on a wooden hanger from the rack. But as reassuring evidence that his receptionist had given him warning that I was coming and that he welcomed my visit, his dark pinstripe jacket sat nattily on his broad shoulders, his silk rep tie was neatly in place, and the edges of his white shirt cuffs made thin rims at the end of his sleeves. I was sure he wore tasteful cufflinks.
    He stood when he saw me, then lifted a dark eyebrow when Briana chugged up the stairs behind me.
    By any standard, Ethan is one of the handsomest men on the planet. A fraction of Seminole blood gives him bronze skin, dark, deep-set eyes, straight black hair cut to brush his shirt collar, a proud nose, prominent cheekbones, and lips made for kissing. His smile is white and even, his voice sounds like the velvet male speaker on credit card commercials, and I can attest from personal experience that his kisses make you lose any sense you ever had.
    From her side office, the receptionist bleated some words I ignored. I was too intent on the pleasure on Ethan’s face at seeing me. All the old emotions whirled and tugged at me, including my sense of unfamiliarity with all the tradition and history in the shelves of law books and the old butt-worn wooden chairs in front of the grandfather’s huge mahogany desk. Ethan moved out from behind his desk and met me halfway in his office.
    Not for the first time, I noticed that he had beautiful ears, and that they were gently cupped to hear every word that fell from my lips. I had an almost irresistible urge to rise up on tiptoe and run my tongue around the rim of one. Not to start anything, just to lick it the way babies lick things that appeal to them. It’s downright disgusting what some of my body parts do in their imagination.
    My face must have shown something of how I felt, because one corner of his very fine lips lifted and little smile lines appeared at the side as if they were etched there by habit. Dang, I had to get my mind on why I was there.
    He took both my hands in his. “Dixie. It’s good to see you.”
    To my utter surprise, I felt tears sting my eyelids, and for a second I couldn’t get my tongue to work.
    He said, “I hear you have an emergency. What can I do for you?”
    Oh, yeah. I was there for Briana, not to rekindle an old lust.
    I nodded toward Briana, who had removed her big hat so her red hair tumbled over her shoulders. She had removed her dark glasses, too. Her eyes were tawny, like a lion’s.
    “The emergency is actually hers. She’s a prime suspect in a murder. I know it will be better if she has an attorney when she turns herself