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beneath, and some shoes that Bryn was almost sure were Kenneth Cole, or at least that expensive. “Unless you want to spend the evening with Mr. Gran, here. I mean, he’s not much of a talker, but he’s working a nice after-death stiffy right now. You want to see?”
    “No.” Bryn tried to keep her voice even, her gaze straight. She had the eerie impression that Freddy was one of those men who would go for the slightest sign of weakness. “I’ll be going now.”
    “So you didn’t get into the business for the cold ones? Some do, you know. Lucky you, then. I’m nice and warm.” He winked at her, and Bryn wanted to throw up. “Right, it’s drinks, then. We’ll see about what comes after.”
    Bryn took a step back as Freddy rounded the end of the embalming table, suddenly aware of everything—the chilly temperature of the room, the deserted mortuary, the fact that the alcohol had led her into what could be a
very
bad decision. “No. Thanks. Really, I was just … on my way out.”
    “Going home to what? A single-serving frozen dinner and a twin bed? You don’t look like a woman with a boyfriend—at least, not a boyfriend who’s keeping you satisfied, and I can always tell. So how about that drink? You can tell me all about how lonely you are.”
    Bryn was shaken, not that she’d let him see it. “Take no for an answer, Freddy. You ought to know the word by now. I’m sure you hear it enough.”
    “Ouch.” He seemed more amused than hurt. “Look, I don’t really want to be seen in public with you either; you’re not exactly up to my usual standards. So how about a quickie down here? Nobody here but Mr. Granberry; I don’t think he’d mind. I could break out the wine coolers.”
    “If you come near me with a
wine cooler
, I hope you go both ways, because I will shove it up your ass.” Bryn walked for the door, half expecting him to grab her and throw her to the floor, but when she looked back Freddy was still standing there, smiling at her.
    “Don’t know what you’re missing,” he said. “When you’re ready for a good time, you know where to find me, sweetheart. You’re welcome down here anytime.” He blew her a kiss.
    Bryn didn’t even remember going up the stairs, or going into her office—only the slamming of the door let her know that there was a solid oak surface between her and Fast Freddy. She shuddered, locked the door, and backed off to collapse into her office chair. “Ugh, ugh, ugh,” she said, and dropped her head into her hands. “Now I
really
need a shower.” She’d met guys like him, of course. Lots of them. It came with the territory of working in a traditionally male area. And she’d learned to deal with them. She just hadn’t quite expected to have to do it
here
, in
civilization.
    And not at the end of a miserable first day.
    After taking a few dozen deep, calming breaths, she stripped off her lab coat and retrieved her purse from the drawer of her desk.
So
time to go home. Maybe Lucy had been right—a glass of wine and a massage—but if she couldn’t get the massage, at least a glass of wine, a movie, something to take her mind off of things.
    Bryn jerked at the sound of a thunderously loud knock on the door. “Hey, girl? You still here? Come out! Come out!”
    She hadn’t turned her fluorescent office light on, so as long as she kept quiet, Freddy wouldn’t know she was there. Hopefully.
    She could hear him breathing. There was something
very
creepy about that.
    Finally, he muttered, “Man, you are one cold bitch,” and she heard him walking away. She held her breath until she heard what sounded like the front door slamming, and then went to the window to look out. Carefully.
    Freddy drove a silver sports car, and she watched him climb inside and drive away in a squeal of tires.
Oh, thank God
.
    Just her, then. Her and the late Mr. Granberry downstairs.
    She bet Freddy hadn’t bothered to put him in the refrigerator. That seemed like the kind of