Name: Cadaver Lab: A Romantic Comedy with Corpses
SKU: 304348

“Hot doctor’s drinking lemonade,” Harper reported as she planted an icy margarita glass in front of Natalie.

“Thank you. And maybe he’s on call or something,” Natalie suggested, keeping her voice low.

“He’s built more like he’s a trainer at a gym. Maybe he’s like a physical therapist?” Red suggested.

“Maybe.” Bethany said low. “But Alice Mudd insists he’s a murderer.”

“Not just a murderer. Serial killer,” Harper corrected. “Although Jack the Ripper was supposed to be a doctor too so…”

“Well, since we’re listing all the gossip, old Buck said he heard he’s a mercenary for hire,” Bethany added.

Taking a sip of her drink, Red held up one finger, swallowed then said, “Actually, Jeb told Cash he heard he was a hit man.”

Harper bobbed her head side to side. “Mercenary. Hit man. Both killers for hire so that’s kind of close. Could be something to that one. And Mrs. Trout told Agnes she saw bodies—plural—being carried into the warehouse.”

“So he’s a serial killer who keeps his victims’ bodies?” Red asked. “That doesn’t seem very smart.”

“Dahmer did that,” Natalie informed them. That was one show Natalie had gotten to binge before she became cash strapped.

In hindsight, since she’d have to cancel Netflix soon, she probably should have chosen better. A rewatch of Bridgerton season one would have been more pleasant.

From where she sat, Natalie could see the probable physician-possible psychopath’s profile.

Good strong chin. Great cheekbones. An amazing head of thick, dark hair, long enough to fall over his forehead and give him a rakish look, but not so long it hit the collar of his shirt at the back of his neck.

She wondered what color his eyes were as he stabbed a piece of lettuce in his salad with a fork that looked small while gripped in his big strong hands.

Interesting choice. Salad and lemonade. Pretty much the opposite of her own order of a margarita with Butter Garlic Parmesan Wings.

“Considering how hot he is, is it wrong I’m considering if being a possible serial killer is a deal breaker or not?” Natalie asked, her tongue feeling loose thanks to the drink.

“No. I’d be asking myself the same question if I wasn’t with Cash,” Red said.

“We’d all be asking ourselves that question if we weren’t taken women,” Harper clarified.

Bethany nodded in agreement as she sucked on her straw and all four of them stared at him eating.

“I say go introduce yourself,” Harper said. “You are his neighbor. You’ve got an automatic in.”

“And say what? Hey, I own the building next to yours. Wanna show me your collection of bodies sometime?”

“I might not lead with the bodies, but the rest works.” Red shrugged.

While they talked, hot doctor had downed the last of his lemonade and tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table where he’d abandoned the last of the lettuce in the bowl. He stood and they got the full impact of the length and breadth of his hot body.

He turned toward them and Natalie couldn’t breathe. Why was he coming this way?

As he walked straight at her she caught the orange glow of an EXIT sign in her peripheral vision and realized there was a door behind them in addition to the front door she’d entered through.

Their table was silent as all four were glued to his every move. And that was before he tipped his head toward them and said in a deep rich voice that sent a tingle down her spine and all the way to her nether region, “Ladies.”

Something inside Natalie snapped. Whether it was the tequila or his testosterone, she forgot she was shy and blurted, “Hi-I’m-your-neighbor-I-own-the-train-depot.”

At that, his gaze pinned her where she sat trembling as he asked, “What’s your name?”

Heart pounding, she answered, “Nat—Natalie.”

He bent low. Close. She saw his eyes were green and amazing and she wanted to stare into them for the rest of her life. Or at least for an hour or so tonight. Preferably while in her bed.

“Well, Natalie. It’s rude to stare and talk about people while they’re trying to eat dinner.” Straightening he swept a glance over all four of them seated at the table. “Have a good night, ladies.”

Keep reading CADAVER LAB if you love: