Poison Ivy

by Misty Simon

  “Oh, now there’s a picture I simply will not be able to get out of my head. You and another guy in those tight leotard-type outfits with your arms around each other. Nice. Did you have the head gear, too?”

  “Of course we had the head...ha, ha, ha. You’re a funny one. Fine, go ahead and make fun of me all you want, but I looked good in that outfit. It showed off my ass to perfection.”

  I rolled my eyes and finally remembered where we were—in the middle of breaking and entering into a guest’s cabin at the local bed and breakfast. Yet here we were playing getting-to-know-you games. I stuck my elbow out to get his attention and he neatly sidestepped me this time.

  “I don’t fall for that twice. Should I be grateful you didn’t go for my balls this time, too?”

  I blushed and hoped the cloud cover had moved back across the moon to hide the flaming hot skin from my neck to my forehead.

  “Ivy, seriously, you should go home. I can take care of this. There’s no need for both of us to get into trouble for checking this guy out.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. I had gotten here first, I was trying to figure out a way in, and now Mr. Wrestler was telling me (me!) to go home like a good little girl and let the big bad man take care of things. How dare he!

  “How dare you!” My anger got the best of me and my voice got a little louder than I would have hoped.

  “Let’s use our inside voices, Ivy.”

  I hit him in the arm this time for his condescending comment. And since when was I so physically violent? What happened to that strong filter I’d boasted about between my head and abuse? Regardless, it got his attention.

  “Ow, again. Do you make it a habit to hit people who are trying to look out for your best interests?”

  “No, I do not make it a habit to hit people who are looking out for my best interests, but I do hit people who are patronizing me. Why should I go away? Why don’t you go away?”

  “You have got to be kidding me. I’m not going away. And if you’re not going away, then at least get behind me while I jimmy this lock.”

  “Then we’ll be partners, right? I’ll help you, you’ll help me, and we share all information.”

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” Ben said as he opened this black velvet case-like pouch with a bunch of shiny tools inside. He drew out a long slim tool and examined it.

  I was about to let him do his thing when his answer sank into my head. I put out a hand to block the lock and keep him from trying his luck with it until I got some clear, definite promise from him that we were in this together.

  “You want to move out of the way so I can get us in before sunrise?”

  “No, I do not want to move. I want you to tell me we are going to be partners in this. I’m not going home to twiddle my thumbs like some dumb girl while you go do your manly-man thing and leave me in the dark.”

  “I wasn’t planning on leaving you in the dark, as you say. I think it’s too dangerous for you to be sticking your nose in things you don’t know anything about.”

  “And you know all about investigating because you got some piece of paper from the Internet.” That was so rude I started apologizing immediately, even before I saw the look of hurt flit across his face. “I’m sorry, Ben. That was wrong of me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. First I say ‘balls’ to a man and then I insult you.” Oops, hadn’t meant to say that part about the balls. But without trying, I seemed to have diffused some of the tension.

  “You’ve never said balls to a guy before?”

  I did not want to continue this conversation, but I felt maybe I owed it to him after the bitchy Internet paper comment. “No, I haven’t.” That was all I would say about it. The end.

  “Never? That’s a pretty long time. You didn’t say it to some guy in the eighth grade because he was trying to pinch you or something?”

  Apparently not the end. “No, I guess it never came up. Besides, I’m still waiting for you to agree to be partners before I move. Let’s keep focused on the important issues and stop talking about your balls.” God, did it get any worse than this?

  He looked me over for a minute and finally nodded. “We’ll let go of the balls conversation and concentrate on the important things. Why do you think I should let a total amateur help me with this when I can do it myself?”

  I held my tongue as another snide comment about his dubious (oh, good word, Ivy) use of his qualifications came to mind. “I think you should let me help you because I can be an extra set of eyes, ears, and hands. A lot of customers who come in spend time gossiping. I can pick up any interesting information and pass it on to you. I doubt you have many drop-ins at the newspaper.”

  “Like an extra set of hands, huh?”

  Trust a man to zero in on that part. “I also found some evidence with a direct bearing on the murder.” Never mind that I wasn’t entirely sure if the blood on the cape had anything to do with Janice, because the police hadn’t seen fit to give me any kind of update. But I didn’t let that little bump in the road stop me.

  “What kind of evidence?” He stopped and shook his head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. If I can’t get through to the lock soon, I’ll lose my chance to see what this guy is hiding. I guess I’ll have to agree to whatever you say.”

  “I need to hear the words.” My hands had moved to my hips.

  “Fine. I agree to be partners with you. Now please move your cute ass out of my way so I can get at this lock.”

  I had a cute ass? I resisted the urge to twist around and check it out for myself as Ben got to work on the door.

  He grabbed the knob and moved to put the first tool between the door and the jamb. The door simply creaked open. “Well, shit.”

  I laughed and got a narrow-eyed look for my insubordination. “So, master detective, I guess we should have tried the door before breaking out the tools.”

  “The tools are fine. I should have tried the door before agreeing to your stupid partner thing.”

  Ben was still rubbing his arm where I’d swatted him for a second time when we made our way into the cabin. The floor plan was simple: one big room housed a bed and sitting area, a small kitchenette, and a café style table for two. Nothing looked out of place and the king-sized bed was perfectly made.

  I was just happy no one had been here before us. And hopefully no one would come in while we were doing our search.

  “You take the bathroom,” Ben said in a whisper. That whisper was doing some serious things to my libido, even when he was cursing at me. Yes, I figured I was perverse.

  I didn’t want to argue now that we were actually inside and able to see if there were any clues here. So I took myself to the bathroom and started my search while I heard faint noises coming from the main part of the cabin.

  The small bath smelled like Old English but was actually quite neat for a guy. A comb and a bottle of gel were lined up on the white counter. No stubble was lying around the rim of the sink, and the tube of toothpaste actually had the cap on. Plus, no ring of urine around the toilet.

  If I hadn’t thought this guy was a murderer, I’d be tempted to see if he was available. I mean, cleanliness was next to sexiness for dating material, as far as I was concerned. I sure hoped Ben wasn’t a slob.

  Ten minutes later, we both came back to the center of the main room, shaking our heads. “I didn’t find anything,” I said. “I looked through the bathroom cabinets and found the normal stuff. It looks like he’s settled in here for a little while. He has everything unpacked and his travel bag is stuffed under the sink. He’s neat and not a thing is out of place.” Actually, looking at how neat he was had me rethinking the whole cleanliness thing. Even I wasn’t that organized, and I didn’t think I could be with someone who made sure all the labels on his toiletries faced the same way and were alphabetized. It was a little scary and a lot anal-retentive, now that I’d thought about it.

  “I didn’t find anything either,” Ben said. His shirt was coming untucked and his bro
wn hair was mussed, like he’d run his fingers through it several times in the short while we’d been here. His fingers forked through the strands again, confirming my suspicion. “This guy is way too organized and didn’t bring anything with him besides two pairs of pants, two shirts, socks, funky orange-striped underwear, and his bathroom stuff. No books, no files, no incriminating evidence. Crap.” Ben shook his head and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Dammit,” he said. “I was so sure he’d have some kind of secret stash of things hidden in his clothes or in a drawer that would link him to Janice’s death.”

  “I know. I’ve looked in every nook and cranny.”

  His head snapped up. “But I haven’t.” He stalked over to the small kitchenette and opened the cupboards under the sink. Wedging himself into the tiny space, only his stomach, waist and legs were visible as he wiggled around looking for something, anything.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A couple of minutes later I heard Ben’s muffled voice from under the sink. “Yes.” His tall, lean body wiggled out from beneath the counter and I was treated to a view that made my mouth water. Each delicious inch came out from under the sink—broad chest, well-defined arms, nice shoulder. The chin I wanted to nibble, the mouth I wanted to bite, the eyes I think I fell into when we first met, despite my horribly embarrassing run to the bathroom. Why wasn’t I sleeping with him? At that moment I had no idea what was holding me back, and if we had been in a different place, say a bed, and not breaking and entering in a possible murderer’s room, I’d have jumped Ben Fallon the Fallen.

  “What? What? What’s a yes?” I said, dragging my mind back to the matter at hand.

  I think some of my intense perusal and subsequent arousal must have come across to him, because as soon as he scooted out completely his green eyes zeroed in on me. Then that smile, that killer smile, widened into a devilish grin. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

  And what was I supposed to say to that? “Sure it is. We’re in someone else’s room, uninvited, and you found something you don’t seem to be sharing. What’s more exciting than that?”

  “You’re not that oblivious, but I’ll let it go this time.” He paused to look me over and I hoped like hell my nipples weren’t peaked under my black top. At least not to the extent that he could see them. “I found this folder taped up under the sink. Do you want to look at it here or go to my house and finish what we’ve started?”

  Well, that was certainly a double entendre if I ever heard one, and I spent about a half second deciding what I wanted from Ben and for myself. I was tired of playing this never-ending game in my head. I knew the important parts of him, and maybe if we got the deed done I wouldn’t feel so out of sorts, so off balance. And wasn’t that a lovely way to think of ending my long run on celibacy?

  But I said the words and then there was no turning back. “Let’s go to your house.”

  Following Ben in my car, I felt my stomach start to knot with dread and anticipation. Was I ready for this? What was I getting myself into? Had I shaved my legs?

  A quick feel under the leg of my pants answered the last question in the affirmative and left me with only the two other questions. I’d been drawn to Ben since the first time we met, which I admitted wasn’t so long ago. But something about him really pulled at me. He was funny, charming, and sexy. He made me feel sexy. That was a serious point in his favor.

  Five minutes later we pulled up in front of one of three apartment buildings in town. I parked in a spot close to the entrance, right next to Ben. We both got out of our cars at the same time, and Ben came around his hood to take my hand. Who knew holding hands could be so seductive? I felt a tingle from my toes straight to the roots of my hair and worried I might pass out if he actually touched one of my erogenous zones. Would I faint dead away? Perhaps, but it sure would be fun to experience.

  We walked into a foyer and up the stairs directly in front of us, Ben tugging me along behind him. “This is home sweet home,” he said in that sardonic voice which always made me want to listen to more of his dry wit.

  “It’s a nice building,” I said, for lack of anything better. My mind flashed back to my little cottage and how much I loved it. Truthfully, though, I would have lived anywhere in order to live outside my father’s house and that damn pink room. Maybe I wasn’t the right person to remark on anyone’s living situation.

  “Yes, it is a nice building, but I’d give it up in a heartbeat if I could live in a house like yours. Plenty of room to stretch out, no one to bang on the walls if you’re making too much noise. A yard.”

  “You say yard like it’s the Holy Grail.”

  “Well, I have a secret,” he said in a whisper, making my body automatically lean in closer to hear this secret. “I really shouldn’t tell you. You may use it against me.”

  “I will not.” I found I was also whispering and it took some of the starch out of the indignant, fierce way I’d wanted to speak.

  His eyebrow quirked at me and, as if he hadn’t already had enough intriguing attributes, this was one more thing that made my mouth go dry. I’d always admired anyone who had such control over their facial features, but on Ben it was especially sexy.

  “I won’t,” I said, louder this time.

  “Well, my secret is...” He leaned in closer and I could feel his breath on my neck, like a hot caress. His nose tickled the outer shell of my ear and I almost fainted dead away, I was so turned on. And now it was confirmed, I was probably going to die when his hands actually managed to touch any area that was supposed to turn my knees to water. I was so screwed—hopefully, literally. “I like to get my hands dirty...planting flowers.”

  “Mmmm.” It was a sexual, throaty noise until what he’d actually said took root in my brain. Uh, flowers? Okay that was so not what I thought I’d hear. “Huh?”

  “Flowers. I know it’s not very manly, but I really like the feel of the earth in my hands and putting geraniums in a pot isn’t quite the same. Have you seen Bella’s gardens? What I wouldn’t give for a space like that to really dig into.” On his face was a smile I had only ever associated with orgasm, and we were talking about flowers and dirt. “Huh” was right.

  “Of course my other passion involves getting dirty with something a little more sweaty and geared toward the bedroom or a convenient floor.”

  Now there was the Ben I knew and loved. Loved? No, liked a lot, though. Enough that I thought I wanted to see if we could figure out how best to go at it on the floor without one or both of us ending up with some nasty rug burn. And despite those naughty thoughts I was pretty sure I still blushed.

  “So on to the envelope we confiscated from Mr. Hedlund. Let’s open it up and see what was so secret he had to hide it under a sink, in an envelope, and practically glued shut.”

  Ben worked on the closed envelope while I wandered around a bit. His apartment wasn’t exactly bachelor-pad material, as he had some really nice antique pieces. A beautiful armoire stood at the wall in the living room and, of course, housed a larger than average television along with a big collection of DVDs and CDs. Then there were the video game systems; the man had everything since the Atari came out, and games to go with each of them. Typical male.

  A piecrust table held a disreputable and scarred wooden bowl filled with keys and change. A Tiffany-style lamp sat on a nicely aged leather-topped table, which brought me to the couch. Were guys incapable of having a place to sit that did not involve the use of duct tape? The monstrosity in the middle of the living room was some horrid orange-and-green plaid pattern from the seventies and needed, desperately, to hit the garbage dump. Not even a cover could save the soul of that poor thing. But over in the corner Ben had a brand-new-looking recliner in a plush sand color. Brown. My kind of guy.

  Ben made a humming noise while he tried to pry the rest of the tape off the flap of the envelope without tearing the paper.

  “Any luck?” I said as I turned from a collection of pictures on the mantel. All had Ben with a woman or women in s
ome wilderness-looking setting, and I didn’t want to contemplate how many of those women were not related to him.

  “Almost got it,” he said as he worked a knife under the edge of the flap. “Finally. Now come on over here, Ivy. Let’s see what the client guy was hiding.” When I hesitated with my hand on the back of the ugly couch, he laughed. “I won’t bite unless you ask.”

  “Ha, ha, now shut up and let’s see what we found.”

  “We found? I specifically remember I was the one to crawl under that awful sink, and please remind me to tell Nancy she should have her worker bees clean under there a little better next time. I almost made contact with a used condom and was not happy.”

  “Oh, poor baby. How will you explain why you were under there? Now hurry, I’m getting impatient waiting to see what we found.”

  Carefully, Ben shook out the contents of the envelope and we stared, horrified at what fell onto the table.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Okay, no one that skinny should ever have naked pictures taken of themselves,” I said as I struggled not to laugh my ass off.

  “Uh, yeah, I completely agree, these are totally wrong in every sense of the word.”

  It seemed the vocal Mr. Client Guy might have had another reason for being in town, a reason he was covering up for by making a big fuss about Janice and his files. Or maybe there was something on one of the files Janice had that would be incriminating. Either way, I was pretty sure we’d tracked the wrong rabbit.

  “Do you think he was being blackmailed?” Ben asked, stuffing back into the manila envelope the nudie pictures of a very skinny client guy and an extremely tiny, curvy blonde getting it on.

  “I can’t think of what else the note we found in the envelope means, since it specifically said, ‘Pay up or suffer.’ But that’s not our main concern. If this guy got caught with his pants down, literally, the only way it would hook into killing Janice is if she was the blackmailer. I can’t see that.”