Naughty Bits 2 (16 page)

His casual tone almost shocks me as much as his words. “Hell, no!” I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Why would you think something like that?”

He shrugs. “Why else would you call unless it had something to do with you?”

Hmm. The guy only met me for a minute and he thinks he knows me. “Vincent was killed with a pair of scissors. Does that sound like me?” I ask with a tight smile.

Kyler looks at the body again. “I guess not. You're more of the stiletto-heel type of killer.” He surveys the little group of boutique employees. “Which one do you think did it?”

I look at the women huddled to the side. “Mary,” I decide. Anyone who suggests that I'm getting fat deserves the death penalty.

A police officer steps out of the office and gestures for us to move away. “This is a homicide scene. I need everyone out of the area so we can rope it off.”

“Great,” I hear Denise mutter. “That's really going to drive clients away.”

“How long do you think they'll close us?” Mary asks.

I'm beginning to believe that they aren't crying so much for the passing of Vincent as much as from worry over their next paycheck.

Brianna dabs her eyes with a tissue. “I think we should close the store for a week in respect to Vincent.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. When did you ever respect Vincent?”

“Excuse me?” Brianna clasps her hand to her chest. “Vincent was my uncle.”

“So? I was his protégée,” Mary says.

“Not quite,” Denise interrupts. “You were his employee. I was his lover.”

Brianna gives an inelegant snort. “I'd hardly call you lovers, Denise. You only fucked him so you could gain favors.”

To my surprise, Denise doesn't take offense to that accusation. Her smile is downright triumphant. “And it worked, didn't it?”

Mary frowns. “What do you mean?”

Denise stands tall and proud. “He left the business to me.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Brianna waves her hands to halt the conversation. “That's not right. I'm his heir.”

“Think again.”

“You don't get it,” Brianna says, and I can see she's going to fly into anger again. “He told my relatives that he wanted to keep the business in the family.”

Mary and Denise look at each other and share a bitter laugh. “He says what he thinks you want to hear,” Denise informs Brianna.

“You can say what you want. I'm his next of kin.”

“So what?” Mary says. “I worked for him longer than the two of you combined. I'm the one who did all the work here and Vincent knew it.”

Denise scoffs at Mary's claim. “That's no reason to reward it. You can get cheap labor anywhere. I'm the one who came up with all the designs.”

I stare at Denise.
She's
the one who came up with the designs? Hope flutters in my chest for the first time since the moment I found Vincent dead. Maybe I didn't lose my secret weapon after all.

No, what am I thinking? I rub my forehead as if I can purge the thought. I might be mercenary, but I still have my limits. Denise may have murdered her boss.

Then again, I have to admire her level of commitment and ambition. This is the kind of passion I want in my lingerie designer.

“He promised me the boutique,” Brianna says, her voice rising.

Denise folds her arms across her chest. “Did you get that in writing?”

Brianna thrusts her chin out. “Yeah.”

Mary does a double take. “You did?”

“Today?” Denise asks.

Brianna's smugness wavers. “What are you talking about?”

“Because he showed me this today.” Denise walks over to a desk by the dressing room, pulls open a drawer and retrieves the blue paper with a flourish. “I am the new owner of Vincent's.”

Mary puts her hands on her hips. “Vincent's body is still warm and you're claiming the business?”

Denise glares at her coworker, obviously trying to hold back a few choice words. “This boutique changes hands upon his death.”

“Excuse me, miss,” the police officer in charge is suddenly at Denise's side. He points at the paper in her hands. “Where did you get this?”

“Vincent gave it to me today. Over an hour ago.”

The officer skims over the words and turns to Brianna. “Do you have anything like this?”

“Yes, but it's in my safety-deposit box.”

The officer turns to Mary and gives her a questioning look. She shakes her head. “First time I've seen it. What is it?”

“It's a legal document that promises me the boutique,” Denise decides to answer for him. “It's signed, sealed and makes all previous agreements null and void. And there is nothing you can do about it.”

“What?” Brianna yells and she bunches her hands into fists.

“It comes into effect when Vincent dies?” Mary asks, her eyebrows arching high. “You hurried up that time line, didn't you?”

Denise blinks and takes a step back as if she's just been slapped. “No, I didn't. I wouldn't. I loved Vincent.”

Okay, I'm not too sure about Denise's claim on that. I never saw any gestures of affection or secret exchanges. I didn't know they were intimate until I saw her giving him head. It makes me wonder if she just realized she has shown her hand too soon and is now backtracking.

“You need to come with me, miss.” The police officer takes the document from Denise's hands and guides her to a quiet corner in the fitting room.

They pass me and the officer stops. He looks at me like he just realized I'm there. His reaction doesn't do wonders for my ego. “And you?” he asks me. “Who are you?”

“I'm Amaris Martin. I came for a fitting and found Vincent's body.”

He glances at Kyler who stands at my side. “And you are?”

“Kyler Thorn.” He takes a step forward, blocking me with his shoulder. I can't tell if he's trying to hide me or protect me. “I'm a…friend of Amaris's.”

Friend? I bite my lip. As in my benefactor? On his salary? Oh, he wishes.

But in order to keep Leon's visit a secret, we need to play pretend for a few minutes. I glance over at Brianna. For a moment she looks confused and then her eyes widen. That's when I know she understands why I'm lying.

Not that she's going to disagree. If you're selling luxury goods, you follow the one golden rule: The customer is always right. Even in a police investigation.

“I'll have someone take your statement.”

The fact that the officer in charge doesn't plan to do it personally makes me think we aren't suspects. The questions they ask me seem routine. It's like they've already decided I'm a waste of time. For once, I'm perfectly happy not to be the center of attention.

The detective flips his notebook closed. “You're free to go.”

“Thank you.” I can't wait to go home and take a nice long
bubble bath. I hesitate and look over to where Denise is still being interrogated. If she is the true creative force of Vincent's, then I want to remove her from prime suspect status.

But how? It really hits home that I have no skills and no real ability to help myself or others. I may feel powerful and protected, but it can be taken away from me in an instant.

Kyler is suddenly in my view, getting into my personal space as he clicks off his cell phone. “Amaris, we need to leave.”

I don't argue and we leave without talking to anyone. It's only when I walk into the lobby that I realize I'm still wearing the bustier and garter belt under my raincoat. I look over my shoulder at Vincent's boutique. “I need to go back and get my clothes.”

Kyler grasps my elbow and propels me to the revolving doors. “There is no time.”

“There is when it's a Chanel dress.” And Mary is also a size two. The woman better not touch it. I saw firsthand how grabby the seamstress can be.

“Leon is waiting for you in his limo out front. He wants to talk to you on his way to the airport.”

He can send me a postcard
. It's so tempting to say that out loud, but I made an agreement with Leon. I don't get to take a break because I'm having a bad day. “Thanks for helping me out.”

He does a double take. Does he think I'm completely without manners? “You didn't need any help,” he finally says.

“You sound surprised.”

His mouth slants in a smile and my heart does a funny flip. “You aren't what I expected.”

He opens the back door of the limo and lets me slide in the car. My raincoat is really too short for such a maneuver. Kyler gets a glimpse of the lace tops of my stockings. As I sit down, my raincoat parts and reveals my naked pussy.

I swear, that was totally accidental. I keep my eyes straight ahead and oh, so casually cross my legs, but it's too late. I feel
the tension shimmering from him. He shuts the door quickly, but he doesn't walk away. His hot gaze could sear through the smoked glass.

It's only when the limo pulls away from the curb that I exhale slowly.

“I trust everything is in order?” Leon asks as he shuffles through a sheaf of papers.

He doesn't care. If he did, he would ask for details. He would ask how I felt. “Kyler and I made sure your name didn't come up.”

“Good.” He tosses the paper in his briefcase and clicks it shut before leaning against his seat and studying me. My legs are crossed and my arms are folded tightly against my chest. “Take off your coat.”

I bristle at his command. I hate how my body goes into full alert and I want to deny him. I want to go back home and purge the murder scene from my mind.

“Amaris?”

I reach for the sash of my raincoat and shrug it off. I look out the smoked windows and watch us zigzag through downtown Bellevue traffic. I try to act like it's no big deal that I'm sitting in the back of the limo wearing a sexy black bustier. Or that I'm wearing stockings and a garter belt without the panties.

I hear the changes in Leon's breathing. He's getting turned on. I'm glad I have the power to do that by just sitting next to him. It's good to know I can arouse him while I'm still pissed off.

Leon slides next to the center of the backseat and caresses my arm. I shiver from the soft touch, but I still look out the window. His hand brushes against the top of my breasts and my nipples tighten in anticipation.

It's really hard to focus on how we're merging onto the highway when Leon dips his hand in my bustier and cups my breast. He knows just how to fondle me to get a strong reac
tion. Sometimes I think my capitulation gets him aroused faster than my sexual appeal.

I close my eyes as he pinches my nipple. It sends a white-hot sensation down my body and straight to my clit. I press my lips together, determined to ignore him, but a gasp escapes from my throat when he captures my earlobe with his teeth.

“Sit on my lap,” he tells me softly.

I move to straddle him, but he stops me. “No, face away from me.”

Face away? What is he up to? I want to ask, but that might make it sound like I'm hesitant to turn my back on him. I do trust him—to a point.

I get up and straddle him, facing away. I lean forward, putting my hands on his knees for balance. Leon murmurs with approval as he places kisses along my bare back.

As I look forward I suddenly realize that the privacy window isn't closed. My heart stops as all the blood rushes from my skin as I stare at the back of the driver's head. I have no doubt he can hear us. All he has to do is turn his head and he will see me.

I keep my eyes trained on the driver as Leon rubs his hands over my body. He splays his fingers against my mound and slides one along my wet slit. I dip my spine and sink onto his finger, gasping as my body sucks him in.

The limo swerves into the carpool lane. I almost lose my balance and clench onto Leon's knees as he finds my clit. I can't hold back a moan as he captures the nub between his fingers and gives it a sharp pinch.

The musky scent of arousal and sex fills the limo. Every rasp of clothes and breath echoes in my ear. The cars around us are a blur as Leon fingers me.

I feel him struggling with his zipper. My core clenches with anticipation. I am so ready for his cock. He grabs my hips and guides me to the wet tip. I arch my back and take his thick cock with one thrust. Our groans mingle.

Now that Leon has a good hold on my hips, I take my hands off his knees. I grab my breasts and knead them through the bustier as I rock against him. Leon's breath snags in his throat and his fingers pinch into my skin. I would love to see his expression.

As he thrusts into me, I continue to look straight ahead. I glance in the rearview mirror, but I don't see my reflection. Instead my gaze collides with the driver's. His eyes are dark, wide, stunned.

Heat blooms into my skin. My heart pounds in my ears. The driver can see me. A wicked sensation ripples through me. How much can he see? Just my eyes? My face? My chest?

I want him to see everything. I reach for my clit and watch the driver's gaze follow my movement. I caress my clit slowly for him. Soon I'm rubbing with lightning speed as Leon pounds into me from behind. My hair spills in my face as I perform. Not for Leon, but for the driver, whose gaze keeps darting to the mirror.

I ride Leon so hard I'm breathless. My heart feels like it's going to burst from my chest. It's as if all of my senses are heightened. Each move Leon makes electrifies me. My groans are deeper and longer as the pleasure shimmers to a breaking point.

My climax comes out of nowhere. I hear my high, mewling cry as my mind tumbles. I would have lost my balance, but Leon holds me tightly as he drives his cock into me, deep and hard.

I can't catch my breath. I feel dizzy and lethargic as Leon shows no sign of slowing down. I look straight into the rearview mirror, my gaze connecting with the driver. I see the crinkles around his eyes and I know he's smiling, enjoying the show.