Drop Dead Sexy

I leaned forward to get a better look out the window. “Oh my God!”

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, I had the privilege of seeing a man’s junk. Well, the third time if you considered that I’d also seen Catcher’s. Or was it the fourth since Randy had two dicks? Whatever the exact number, it had turned into an all-out penis-palooza.

The naked man held up his hands. “I’m sorry to shock you both. My apologies you were unaware that Bare Haven is a clothing optional resort.”

“Excuse me?” Catcher asked

“You mean this is a nudist colony?” I questioned incredulously.

The man, who looked like he was wearing one of those fur vests from the sixties with all his chest and back hair, shook his head. “We really prefer you don’t use the word ‘colony’. It has such a derogatory feel. You know like a cult or something.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I mumbled in reply.

Catcher was handed a sheet of paper. “This is your guest parking pass. I’ll radio the clubhouse and let them know you’re coming. Ms. Crandall is one of our full-time residents. If she’s home, they can have her meet you there.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

“No problem. Have a nice day.”

“Same to you,” Catcher replied before the car screeched away from the guard shack.

“Oh. My. God,” I muttered.

Catcher snickered beside me. “Looks like we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. We’ve entered the Bucknekkid City of Oz.”





“Siri, play Bad Moon Iby Creedance Clearwater Revival,” Catcher instructed.

“I see a bad moon risin’. I see trouble on the way.”

I turned my head to cock my brows at him. “You really had to go there, didn’t you?”

Catcher chuckled. “Of course I did.”

As Jim Fogerty sang, we drove down the winding road leading into the resort. At the sight of two naked landscaping guys with leaf blowers on their backs, I shook my head. “I seriously cannot believe this.”

Catcher cut his eyes over to me. “That places like this exist, or that Randy patronized them?”

“If I’m honest, I’d have to say both. I mean, I knew places like this existed. I just never imagined one practically in my backyard.” I grimaced. “Right now, I cannot possibly fathom the idea of seemingly shy Randy Dickinson frolicking around here with his naked fanny showing.”

“Don’t forget his two dicks flapping in the wind.”

I covered my face in my hands. “Ugh. Thanks for reminding me. I’m going to be haunted by that the rest of my life.”

With a grin, Catcher replied, “Me too, babe.”

“Babe?”

Catcher’s brows popped up. “What? Are you one of those chicks who doesn’t like terms of endearment?”

“No, no. I like terms of endearment.”

“Let me guess. You’re just not a big fan of ‘babe.’”

I shrugged. “It’s okay.” What I wasn’t able to say is that he continued to take me off guard by using terms of endearment so soon. I mean, we were just one day off a one-night-stand. I didn’t imagine that sort of thing usually happened. At least he wasn’t using the word in a demeaning way.

With a grin, Catcher said, “All righty then. Babe.”

I turned my attention away from him and back to the road. Bare Haven’s actual complex was about a mile down the road. It made sense that it was far off the beaten path to keep prying eyes away. When we came to a roundabout, we went to the right, which took us a sprawling clubhouse. I blinked a few times in disbelief because it resembled something you might see at a country club.

As I reached for the door handle, I drew in a few deep, cleansing breaths. After the crazy events of the past twenty-four hours, I could’ve used a Xanax the size of my head. It seemed wise to gird my strength for what further insanity I was about to be subjected to.

When we started down the sidewalk, a tall, lanky man with all his naked twig and berries glory came striding toward us. He thrust out his hand to Catcher. “Hello. I’m Barry Gideons—the day manager here at Bare Haven.”

Catcher shook Barry’s hand. “Holden Mains. GBI.” He motioned to me. “This is Olivia Sullivan, Merriam County coroner.”

Barry’s smile faded slightly. “What brings you here, Agent Mains? Surely, we’re not in violation of anything.”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. I’m actually here as part of a homicide investigation.”

Barry’s gray eyes widened. “You are?”

Catcher nodded. “We need to speak to Patricia Crandall. She seems to be the victim’s next of kin.”

Barry swept a hand over his heart. “Oh poor Patty. How terrible. I’ve already sent someone out to her condo to get her. Considering the news, let me go and meet her.”

“If you don’t mind, we would like to tell her the news ourselves.” When Barry gave Catcher an odd look, he replied, “Just following procedure.”

“Yes, of course. I totally understand.”

When we reached the front door, a naked bellhop opened it for us. Considering he was young and incredibly built, I couldn’t help staring at him as I passed by. Catcher snorted at what must’ve been my blatant ogling.