“Um, I’m the one handcuffed and on the floor,” Finch prompted.
&nbs
p; “Oh, um… the keys are in my bag upstairs,” I said, flustered, looking down at the big, brawny cowboy sprawled on the floor. His hat had been knocked off.
“I’ll get them,” Poppy offered, still laughing as she went up the steps.
“Yeah, there’s no place for you to keep them in that outfit,” Shane murmured, his gaze raking over every inch of me.
I looked down at myself, realized what I was wearing. What I wasn’t wearing. Clothes. I had on a red bra and panty set and that was it.
I squeaked in utter embarrassment.
I’d gone into police mode and forgotten everything, including the fact that I was practically naked. Before I could panic or even grab a blanket off the back of the sofa, Poppy hurried down the stairs and tossed me the keys.
Her cell rang and she raced off to get it, quickly getting into a conversation about fairy lights and generators, so I assumed it was Kit.
I knelt beside Finch and opened the cuffs, keeping them once he was free. “Sorry about that.”
He pushed himself up so he was seated on the floor and we were eye to eye. Grabbing his hat, he set it on his head. He smiled, his green eyes raking over my face, then lower. “I’m not sorry. I had a pretty woman straddling me.” He leaned in close, lowered his voice. “I liked it when you were on top.”
I blushed to the roots of my hair at what he meant.
“I… um… need to find some clothes.”
Finch shook his head. “You don’t have to for our sakes.”
“That’s right. The view’s pretty damned fine,” Shane said, going to the window and shutting it. “I’m guessing you’re Eve Miranski, the detective. We’ve heard about you. I figured we’d meet someday, but not like this.”
Finch stood and I had to tilt my head back to look at both of them. Now that they weren’t sociopaths intent on doing Poppy bodily harm, I could appreciate how hot they were. How their clothes clung to their strong physiques. Their square jaws. Intense gazes. Big hands.
And I was still in my underwear. I started walking backward toward the stairs, my gun in one hand—lowered now—and handcuffs in the other. Now that they weren’t being held at gunpoint, their bodies were relaxed and their gazes wandered. I couldn’t miss the heat in their eyes. I also couldn’t miss one very obvious thing. No, two. They were both hard.
And big.
Big and hard.
My mouth was dry. “Okay, so… this has been interesting. Sorry to have, um, messed up your prank. I guess you’ll have to come up with a different one.” I stumbled around an end table. “I’ll… um… see you later.”
The watched me go, and I felt their gazes on every inch of my skin.
“Definitely,” Shane said.
“At the party.” Finch tipped his chin up. “You can ditch the gun but bring the handcuffs.”
2
SHANE
“I hope you have on that red lingerie beneath all those layers.”
It had been three hours since the takedown in Poppy’s great room, and we’d finally cornered Eve at the party, since she was doing her blatant best to avoid us.
We hadn’t pulled off the birthday prank, but that wasn’t new. Sometimes it took a few attempts to accomplish. Every year it was hilarious to see her reaction. Poppy and I had been at it, messing with each other, for years. It was one of the ways we’d found humor in growing up in the Nickel household. It hadn’t been the posh lifestyle the gossip magazines painted it to be. Eddie Nickel wasn’t the loving father. He didn’t know what love was, only humiliation, shame and beatings.
After I started hanging out with Finch in high school, he’d joined in the fun on occasion, especially when I needed an extra set of hands or to work quickly, like tonight and the plan to inflate two hundred balloons before Poppy returned home.
Poppy and I were adults, but we wouldn’t stop pranking each other. It was too much fun. Eddie Nickel might pop into Cutthroat from time to time, telling the media he wanted some family time, like now, over the holidays. That was a complete joke. Poppy and I were all each other had.