Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Something he wanted. Badly.
Jane joined him, Rolex not far behind. She gasped. “You went to Daisy’s. Her chicken noodle soup is a magic cure-all for everything wrong in everyone’s world.”
“You told me.” He dug deep into the bag. Excellent. Daisy had included two plastic spoons. “A million times.”
Eyes wide, she bypassed his comment and asked, “Just to be clear, you brought chicken noodle soup for me? Jane.”
“That is what you requested, right?”
She pressed her hands to her stomach. “Thank you, Conrad. I’m speechless.”
“Don’t say that.” He winked at her. “I should be rewarded for my good deed, not punished.”
Shock crossed over her features as she sank into a wooden chair on the opposite side of the peninsula. “What else did I ask you to do?”
The cat jumped into the chair at her right, staring at Conrad with murderous schemes in his eyes. I will win you over.
“Ask?” He internally snorted. “You demanded I update you on the case. To save my very life, I’m here with information.”
He withdrew the sweet bread and set the loaf on a cutting board he found stashed near the stove. “Here’s the thing. I’m human, and I’m due a lunch break. Why not eat it here with you and discuss the investigation? Two birds, one stone. All above board. Mostly. I promise I’ll tell you as much as I can.”
“Yes, please and thank you,” she said, stretching out her arms and waving her fingers, demanding the soup.
He didn’t think there was anything better than conversing with this cupcake of a human. “Hungry?”
“Starved. I didn’t know it until this moment.”
Satisfaction overtook him. Maybe his DNA had ancient ties to the cavemaniest cavemen ever to walk the Earth, because he liked meeting her needs.
Clink, clink, clink. The sound of metal hitting metal reached his ears. Then pounding footsteps. Then the slam of a car door. Well. Beau was letting him know he was on the scene, ready to come to Jane’s rescue if necessary. Good man. Conrad couldn’t help but admire his fortitude.
“Butter?” he asked Jane.
She jolted, as if startled from faraway thoughts, her gaze zooming to him, then the bread. A slight smile bloomed. “Yes, please. Like Daisy’s soup, butter makes everything better.”
His next words slipped out unbidden. “I’m beginning to believe there are people who make everything better too. What do you think?”
“Um.” Her eyes widened as she squirmed in her seat. “Maybe?”
He wasn’t sure he’d ever left someone better than he’d found them…but he suddenly wanted to.
Dead body. Beautiful brunette. He stalked over and plopped into the chair to Jane’s left. “The case.” His gift to her. “We’re pursuing a couple different leads and motives and questioning several people of interest.” Information he’d given her before.
“Oh?” A casual tone belied a sparkle of excitement. She propped her elbows on the countertop, peering over at him, seeming totally absorbed in him. She looked like every dream he’d ever had and even some he hadn’t. “Tell me more.”
She was a real-life fairytale princess, wasn’t she?
Needing a moment, he added more butter to his bread. “The doctor had an active sex life outside of his marriage. Many of those women had a boyfriend or husband. On the other hand, we found evidence to indicate the doctor had recently developed a passion for hunting treasure.”
“So the motive is love or money,” she replied, thoughtful.
“The motive is always love or money. One or the other.”
Her brow scrunched up. “I don’t understand what either has to do with the cemetery, though. I mean, a graveyard rarely evokes feelings of romance or greed.”
“You’d be surprised.” Since discovering this particular cemetery, he’d entertained more romantic thoughts than...ever.
“And treasure?” she continued, stirring her soup. She blew on the surface. “Everyone knows the cemetery was once raided and stripped of any hidden gold. Unless new rumors surfaced?”
Not widely. Not yet. “Has anyone mentioned a connection between the fleur-de-lys that’s been showing up around town and the legends about the gold?”
She stared off into space while chewing on her bottom lip, reminding him of the moment they’d met. Flipping through her mental files? Wilting with disappointment, she said, “No. They haven’t.”
Too bad. He could have asked something about the Order of Seven. He nudged her shoulder with his own instead, determined to cheer her up. “C’mon. Finish your soup, and I’ll show you what I ordered for dessert.”
She grinned, thrilling him. Diving into her soup, she closed her eyes and moaned. Then she stiffened, froze and frowned. “Why are you being so nice to me, Special Agent Conrad Ryan?”
Voice throaty, he asked, “Am I usually cruel to you?”
“You’re usually closed off. Which is cruel to someone like me. So yes. You are usually cruel to me.”
I will kiss it and make it better. “Let’s say my job leaves me unnaturally suspicious of everyone I meet. The actions they take. The words they use. Having a traumatic childhood doesn’t help matters.” But none of those things had guarded him from her appeal.