Excerpt of Smart Mouth by Erin McCarthy

“Where is it? You said it was going to be here." Derek Knight looked around the front and back seats of the rental car again in impatience as he spoke into his cell phone.

Nothing. No envelope.

Which meant his informant was an imbecile and he was dead meat.

He was so close to busting this case wide open. All he needed was a little more evidence, which was supposed to have been dropped in this car by the speaker on the other end of the phone.

"Well, I put it there," came the anxious whisper.

Derek rubbed his eyes. Jesus. Dealing with this guy was giving him heartburn like he hadn't experienced since the first messy days after his divorce. He fumbled in his pocket for antacids and popped two in his mouth, chewing the chalky tablets rapidly.

Movement to the left caught his attention. He looked up and saw nothing but legs. Female legs. That stretched firm and smooth from the ground right to eye level as he sat in the driver's seat. At one point those legs were covered by a short skirt the color of an olive, but it didn't matter.

They still beckoned him, toying with him, distracting him from the task at hand. He sent the window down with a soft purr and listened to the sound of her heels hitting the concrete, echoing around the dark garage as her hips rolled and swayed and those legs bent seductively at the knee with each step.

He looked past the legs to the narrow waist, the luscious chest, and to the straight auburn hair flowing across her shoulders. She turned, met his gaze. Her eyes went wide with awareness, her plump lips opened as she clutched her rolling suitcase tighter.

Do something, he thought through an unexpected haze of lust, painfully aware that it had been months and months since he'd been on a date.

Talk to her.

Then the voice coming over the phone line repeated insistently, "I'm telling you I put it there myself thirty minutes ago. In the red Ford Taurus."

Derek heard the last words and snapped to attention. "Hold it. You said the green Ford Taurus."

"No, I didn't. I said the red one. It's parked in the far corner under the second floor sign."

Derek swore. He had to be the only agent in the history of the bureau to have a color blind whistle-blower. "Okay, I'll call you back."

He could see the car in question. It was across from him. And damn if it wasn't Legs unlocking it and popping the trunk.

"Excuse me," he called over to her as he threw open the car door and stood up.

She flung her suitcase in the trunk and ignored him, heading to the driver's side door of the car with her cute little backside to him.

"Excuse me, miss, I think you have the wrong car." Derek started to jog over to her, images of his butt hung in an FBI sling by Nordstrom, his less-than-happy boss, flashing through his mind.

She opened the door and turned to enter the car. She frowned as she hastened to get in the car. "Don't come near me," she yelled. "I have Mace."

He stopped and stared in astonishment as her hand popped out holding a spray can in a threatening manner.

Christ, she thought he was attacking her. "No, you don't understand. There's been a mix-up with the cars and..."

The door slammed shut, the lock clicked, the engine roared, and Derek had to leap back to prevent a broken foot as she backed up with the speed of a NASCAR driver.

"What the hell?" he muttered, then realized that months worth of planning and negotiating were fleeing in that car with her. Not to mention those awe-inspiring legs.

With his own burst of speed that made his bad knee scream, he went back to the green Taurus and followed her, on her tail in sixty seconds as she swung around the first floor curve of the garage.

After his last case, when he had skirted procedure a time or two, Nordstrom would be more than happy to see him in the basement pushing papers for the rest of his life.

He was not giving up those documents without a fight.

Reese Hampton tossed her purse and the Mace on the passenger seat, her eyes trained on the exit sign in front of her. She was exhausted. A hot shower and room service were the next order of business, and the only things that could redeem a flat-out lousy day.

The flight from New York to Chicago had first been delayed. Then they had encountered a storm front over Pennsylvania, sending half the passengers scrambling for their airsick bags. The man in the seat next to her had snored, and his hand had fallen in her lap three times. Given that she didn't even want to be on this lame you're a girl so you do it assignment, she was not in a good mood.

Then walking across the garage, struggling to keep her flipping suitcase rolling without toppling over sideways, she had looked up and met the gaze of the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen. Caramel brown hair. Chocolate eyes. A deep summer tan and shoulders as wide and rock solid as the Grand Canyon.

The smelly damp garage had receded, replaced by images of rolling in a floral meadow with him, naked in a world of sensual pleasure where STD's don't exist.

But then the whole fantasy had been shot to hell when he had started towards her, an intense and somehow dangerous look in his eye.

Dangerous was sexy in theory. The reality was less than titillating.

A man running towards her in a dark secluded parking garage was a little nerve-racking, no matter how cute. Ted Bundy had been cute, and look how he had turned out.

It was a sad testimonial to her pathetic life that the only man to show interest in her in ages was probably a psychiatric ward escapee.

Exiting the garage, she put double chocolate fudge eyes out of her mind and tried to figure out where she was.

"Shoot!" Reese saw immediately she had turned the wrong way down a one-way street.

Doing a quick U-turn, she hit the control on the car panel that would call Map-Star, the live service that tracked down the car you were in and offered directions. It was why Reese always used this particular rental car company.

For being an investigative reporter, she had an appalling sense of direction. She had estimated that she had called Map-Star at least forty-seven times in the last two years. She was starting to get to know the employees by name.

They had even sent her a Christmas card the year before, which was thoughtful.

"Thank you for using Map-Star. This is Paula. How may I help you?"