What the Lady Wants Read Online Free PDF Page B

the urge to ask for a flashlight and followed Mae farther into the dim hall.
    Harold frowned at him as he closed the door after them. "Who's the stiff?"
    Mitch turned back to him. "Excuse me?''
    Mae took Harold's arm and drifted deeper into the hall, leaving Mitch to follow. "This is Mitchell Peatwick. He's the private investigator I've hired to look into Uncle Armand's death."
    "So this is what you and June cooked up." Harold sounded displeased.
    Mae jerked her head at Mitch. "Not in front of the help. We'll discuss it later."
    "I am not the help," Mitch said with dignity. "I'm a professional."
    Both Harold and Mae shot him incredulous glances, and then Harold turned back to Mae. "This is a bad idea."
    "Maybe so, but it's the only one I've got, so we're going with it." Mae stopped. "I'm hungry."
    "Tray in the library in ten minutes." Harold moved toward the back of the hall. "Don't spill."
    Mae caught his arm to stop him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek, and Mitch's opinion of butler-hood as a career improved. "I never spill."
    "Tell that to the library carpet." Harold moved on again.
    "What's he mean, 'Who's the stiff?'" Mitch scowled. "Who's he calling a stiff?"
    "You, evidently." Mae nodded toward the door through which Harold had just vanished. "Come on out to the kitchen. I'll get you cleaned up and then we can talk in the library."
    Mitch's first impression of the kitchen was a lot of gleaming white tile and massive appliances surrounding a Marilyn Monroe look-alike.
    "Oh, my." She smoothed her white dress over her hourglass figure, and Mitch realized belatedly that she was sizing him up. "Is this him?"
    "This is Mitchell Peatwick, June." Mae went past her to the sink and pulled down a paper towel before she turned on the tap. "He's the private investigator I hired."
    June tilted her head to survey him, her blue eyes caressing every inch of him. "Very nice."
    "Thank you," Mitch said. "It's about time I got some appreciation."
    "Oh, poor baby, what's wrong?" She pulled out a chair and motioned him to it, every movement sensual and pleasing, and Mitch blinked as the butter of her charm flowed over him. For some reason, she reminded him of Mae, which made no sense because there was nothing butterlike about Mae. "Is that blood on your mouth?" June asked him.
    "Yes. I met Mae's cousin Carlo." Mitch sat in the chair and then jumped a little as June laid soft, gentle fingers against his face to tip it up to her.
    "Poor baby," June cooed again, and Mitch stared at her, fascinated. Her oval face had the soft blurring that women got as they aged, but she was still stunning.
    Harold came in from the pantry and dropped a trayful of plates on the table with a clatter, glaring at Mitch in a definitely unbutlerlike manner. "Mae's hungry," he said pointedly to June, and she smiled one last time at Mitch and went to the refrigerator.
    Mitch leaned toward her automatically as she went, and then caught himself as a midsize, sloppily spotted dog of no particular breed joined them from the pantry and collapsed by the counter. Harold ignored the dog and stomped away while June began to haul out food: a leftover roast, two fat tomatoes, a slab of cheese, a plastic bag full of greens, a gallon of milk.
    Suddenly, Mitch was starving.
    Mae caught his attention by bringing the wet towel over from the sink, nudging the dog away with her foot to get to him. "Get away from the counter, Bob." Bob immediately returned to his place by the cabinet.
    Mitch opened his mouth to ask Bob about the diary, but then Mae bent over to see his face, and he looked directly down the front of her jacket to the pink lace bra she was wearing. There was a lot of lace, and a lot more of Mae. "My God."
    Mae put her hand under his chin and yanked it up. "First June and now me. Stop ogling or I'll tell Carlo."
    "It'll be worth it. Ouch!"
    Mae dabbed at the cut on his lip. "Don't be such a baby."
    "Be careful, Mae." June looked up from the cutting board where she was