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Authors: Julie Anne Lindsey
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money on the countertop. Upon inspection it turned out to be a crisp new fifty. The bill was folded in half with one corner tucked under my saltshaker.
I looked at the front door. Mary Franks must have left it. Was the rumor of my destitute condition already making its rounds? Now I had to figure out how to find her and return the cash.
Later. Sebastian Clark had asked me out for drinks.
I slid into my bubble bath with nothing but happy thoughts on my mind.
And those damn Louboutins.
Chapter Five
I met the Realtor, signed my way into a one year lease and pocketed my new office key in record time. He said he had a motivated owner. A three-ring binder of decorating ideas and color schemes lay on the passenger seat beside me. I gathered the binder and climbed out of the car. Suppressing the urge to skip up the sidewalk, I noted a number of weeds shooting up between the cement slates. The small lawn needed mowing. I didn’t have a mower.
I leaned against the door with one shoulder, juggling the binder and my purse. Before the key turned in the lock, the door creaked.
“What the—?”
As I pushed harder with my palm, the whole door frame inched inward under my weight. The wood was weathered gray and splintered severely around the door and hinges. Great. With my luck, a client would knock and the door would fall down. Gingerly, I turned the knob and pressed the door wide. The door swung with a mild squeak. The frame stayed intact. Thank goodness. The inside looked like I expected an abandoned boathouse to look. I sighed, squared my shoulders and made a trip to my car and back. I’d nearly wiped out the cleaning supply aisle at Frontier Foods in preparation. My new office had to sparkle. It represented me. If I looked like a mess, no one would trust me to help them with theirs. I shoved the idea that my life was a mess from my head and got busy.
Two hours later, the place looked a touch less abandoned and smelled of bleach and Windex. I’d taken my Louboutin frustration out on the place and it showed. How did she afford those shoes? The business card she gave me taunted me from my purse on the countertop. The McGees were probably up to their eyes in credit card debt like the rest of the country. Sebastian would probably run a credit check on the McGees if I asked him. So would Claire, but where was the fun in that? I picked up the mop and headed for the bathroom. Mr. Perkins, Brady’s business partner, probably had the scoop I needed. Partners talked, didn’t they? Claire and I always dished about our frustrating dates. Maybe Brady told Perkins something incriminating about his wife.
Something moved nearby. Pressing my back to the wall, I held the mop handle like a weapon. Mrs. Davis had better steer clear or I’d knock her sideways. I’d had enough of being snuck up on for one lifetime.
“Come out. I hear you.” I widened my stance, ready for anything.
Silence.
“Come on.” I whacked the mop hard against the wall and a herd of rats bounded across the floor at my feet.
“Ahhhhhh!” Not that. I wasn’t ready for that. The mop hit the floor. The next thing I knew, my Prius was making its way over the bridge to the mainland.
I dialed an exterminator and told him the door was open and he could bill me.
Half an hour later, I arrived at the Perkins’s residence. On the whole, the house didn’t impress. A typical Virginia home in an old neighborhood where brick streets from days gone by stood exposed at the bottom of potholes. I slid the Prius in behind a fancy black Mercedes SUV in the driveway. Way to waste money and ruin the ozone. Hairs stood up on my neck and arms. I grew up on an island of fishermen and none of them drove a Mercedes. Perkins and Mrs. McGee had something in common. Both had expensive taste.
The doorbell brought a guy who looked like a Vegas pimp to greet me.
“Yeah?” His gaze ran over my body from chest to toes, never climbing above my collarbone.
I clenched a fist at one side.
I looked at the front door. Mary Franks must have left it. Was the rumor of my destitute condition already making its rounds? Now I had to figure out how to find her and return the cash.
Later. Sebastian Clark had asked me out for drinks.
I slid into my bubble bath with nothing but happy thoughts on my mind.
And those damn Louboutins.
Chapter Five
I met the Realtor, signed my way into a one year lease and pocketed my new office key in record time. He said he had a motivated owner. A three-ring binder of decorating ideas and color schemes lay on the passenger seat beside me. I gathered the binder and climbed out of the car. Suppressing the urge to skip up the sidewalk, I noted a number of weeds shooting up between the cement slates. The small lawn needed mowing. I didn’t have a mower.
I leaned against the door with one shoulder, juggling the binder and my purse. Before the key turned in the lock, the door creaked.
“What the—?”
As I pushed harder with my palm, the whole door frame inched inward under my weight. The wood was weathered gray and splintered severely around the door and hinges. Great. With my luck, a client would knock and the door would fall down. Gingerly, I turned the knob and pressed the door wide. The door swung with a mild squeak. The frame stayed intact. Thank goodness. The inside looked like I expected an abandoned boathouse to look. I sighed, squared my shoulders and made a trip to my car and back. I’d nearly wiped out the cleaning supply aisle at Frontier Foods in preparation. My new office had to sparkle. It represented me. If I looked like a mess, no one would trust me to help them with theirs. I shoved the idea that my life was a mess from my head and got busy.
Two hours later, the place looked a touch less abandoned and smelled of bleach and Windex. I’d taken my Louboutin frustration out on the place and it showed. How did she afford those shoes? The business card she gave me taunted me from my purse on the countertop. The McGees were probably up to their eyes in credit card debt like the rest of the country. Sebastian would probably run a credit check on the McGees if I asked him. So would Claire, but where was the fun in that? I picked up the mop and headed for the bathroom. Mr. Perkins, Brady’s business partner, probably had the scoop I needed. Partners talked, didn’t they? Claire and I always dished about our frustrating dates. Maybe Brady told Perkins something incriminating about his wife.
Something moved nearby. Pressing my back to the wall, I held the mop handle like a weapon. Mrs. Davis had better steer clear or I’d knock her sideways. I’d had enough of being snuck up on for one lifetime.
“Come out. I hear you.” I widened my stance, ready for anything.
Silence.
“Come on.” I whacked the mop hard against the wall and a herd of rats bounded across the floor at my feet.
“Ahhhhhh!” Not that. I wasn’t ready for that. The mop hit the floor. The next thing I knew, my Prius was making its way over the bridge to the mainland.
I dialed an exterminator and told him the door was open and he could bill me.
Half an hour later, I arrived at the Perkins’s residence. On the whole, the house didn’t impress. A typical Virginia home in an old neighborhood where brick streets from days gone by stood exposed at the bottom of potholes. I slid the Prius in behind a fancy black Mercedes SUV in the driveway. Way to waste money and ruin the ozone. Hairs stood up on my neck and arms. I grew up on an island of fishermen and none of them drove a Mercedes. Perkins and Mrs. McGee had something in common. Both had expensive taste.
The doorbell brought a guy who looked like a Vegas pimp to greet me.
“Yeah?” His gaze ran over my body from chest to toes, never climbing above my collarbone.
I clenched a fist at one side.
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