Cat Scratch Cleaver

box in triple digit temperatures when they could be doing the same while at the beach? Darn it. I was really hoping for a nice massage.”
Jasper dips a kiss to the nape of my neck. “If you play your cards right, I can arrange for a private masseuse to be at your place in about an hour. And if you can get us out of here even quicker, I’ll throw in some Chinese food from the Wok ’n Roll.” He lands a searing kiss on my lips.
“Ooh, throw in a few of those, too, and we’ve got a party.”
We’re about to head in the direction of the sign that reads sauna when a series of screams erupt and those beauties that were surrounding Bates run back this way, shrieking as they speed right out of that hot box.
Jasper bolts ahead of me and we enter the sauna, only to find a curious sight that leaves me panicking for an entirely different reason.
A man sits on the wooden bench while an all too familiar woman straddles one of his legs, pulling on his foot.
“Georgie?” I riot out her name like a reprimand and her head turns my way.
“Well, if it isn’t Bizzy and her hunky hero!” Her face looks piqued with color. The humidity in this cloistered room has turned her hair into a wiry silver ball that rises every which way, giving her that freshly electrocuted look that no woman is after. Gone is her favorite accouterment, the ever-present kaftan, and instead, she’s donned a pair of nude-colored parachute panties and some sort of a tube top that matches the pale color of her flesh in such a way you need to squint to assure yourself it’s there. For all practical purposes, she looks naked.
“Come help, Bizzy.” She waves me over in a hurry. “Darby has a foot cramp in both feet. Massage his toes, would you?”
Camila snickers while seated right next to Bates Barlow and they both happened to have ditched their robes. Camila has wrapped herself in a towel—hand towel to be exact—and Bates seems to have even less than that draped over his loins.
“Yes, Bizzy,” Camila chimes in. “Why don’t you massage the man’s feet? I’m sure Jasper would appreciate seeing some of your titillating toe moves.”
“I think Georgie’s got it,” I snip as both Jasper and I take a seat across from them in our robes. Obviously, we’re not as well-versed in the spa department as everyone else here is. An irony, seeing that the inn has a small yet renowned spa that caters to guests. Nothing fancy like this. But being here does make me want to utilize it a bit more.
Jasper holds a hand out to Darby. “Jasper Wilder. I’m Bizzy’s fiancé.”
Darby looks bloated, exhausted, and red as a cherry. “Darby Atwood,” he pants. “I like to come here and hang out with my man.” He nods over to Bates. “We movie types need to stick together.”
“If you say so.” Bates leans his head back against the wall and gives a long blink.
For some reason, it feels as if that’s my cue.
I glance to Jasper a moment.
I’m not sure why, but with him in the room I’m suddenly plagued with performance anxiety.
“That’s very nice,” I say. “I mean, you just had a horrible tragedy happen. It’s nice that the two of you are here trying to get your bearings.” Nice? I’m thinking I should have gone the hand towel route like Camila.
Georgie slams Darby’s foot against the tiled floor a few times as if she were calling court to order with a gavel and the poor man lets out a howl.
“Georgie.” My voice escalates. “I think you’re hurting him.”
“Oh no.” Darby shakes his head, quick to refute the idea. “I’ve asked her to do it on a schedule.”
“Every five minutes,” Georgie shouts from the floor.
“Georgie.” I head over and help her up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t watch while you’re sitting on his leg and tenderizing his feet.” I look to Darby. “I think it’s only fair she enjoys her time here as well.”
“Fair enough.” He pats the spot next to him. “You can massage my arm.” He lands his meaty mitt in her lap, and I frown over at him.
“Don’t mind Bizzy,” Georgie is quick to wave me off. “She’s just jealous. She and the homicide hottie haven’t done the deed yet. It’s been one long, hot, dry season for both of them. And their wedding isn’t for a coon’s age. They’ll both be frothing at the mouth by then. Just you wait and see.” She gets right to digging her fingers into his pale floppy arm, and suddenly I’m moved to wrap it around her neck like a scarf and strangle both of them with it.
Camila gasps with delight. “Is this true?” Her eyes light up like dark jewels, and, I’ll admit, it only adds to her wicked beauty.
“No,” both Jasper and I say at once. Not that it’s any of their business whether or not it’s true.
Okay, so it’s a little true. But we’re still having a pretty decent time. More than decent if you ask me. Indecent by some far more puritanical standards.
“Never mind,” Jasper growls over at Camila. The muscles around his jaw tighten as he looks to Bates. Great. I’ve got a suspect less than four feet away and a room full of people working against me. He winces my way. “No offense.”
“No offense taken,” I whisper.
Even though Jasper knows I can read his mind, he still has the errant runaway thought. I can’t blame him. He’s only human. And so am I—I think.
Camila titters at the two of us and her chest ripples in places I wish my fiancé wouldn’t have to see it ripple. I don’t care what happened between the two of them in the past. I don’t like the fact we’re seated a few mere feet from his mostly naked ex. I don’t care how many suspects she’s about to wrangle next, there’s no