Baroque and Desperate Read Free Page B

sow incisors?” I asked incredulously.
    Greg chuckled. “Perhaps the perpetrator was Porky.”
    â€œOr Petunia,” I peeped.
    C.J. gave us scathing looks. “As a matter of fact, the thieves were…”
    The door to my shop swung open and in strode Tradd Maxwell Burton. Either C.J.’s voice trailed off, or my ears temporarily stopped working. As for Greg, the little vein on his left temple was now the size of Europe’s chunnel.
    Tradd Maxwell Burton was even more handsome when viewed through sober eyes. He wasn’t tall as Greg, and was blond, rather than dark, but nature had certainly smiled on him nonetheless. Golden hair, golden skin, thick gold chain around thick golden neck, gold-brown eyes—everything about him was gold, except his teeth, which were milk white, and may have been artificial. They certainly weren’t pig’s teeth. At any rate, his shoes, socks, and polo shirt were as white as his teeth, and either he’d just stepped off a tennis court, or he made his living advertising bleach.
    â€œAbby!”
    What cheek to address me so familiarly in front of Greg. I loved it. Never mind that he’d stiffed me on those drinks. I’d wring his golden neck later.
    â€œTradd!”
    He bent and gave me a quick kiss. The subtle scent of expensive cologne did not escape me. The stuff Greg wore came in big bottles and had one-syllable names.
    â€œSo this is the famous shop, huh?”
    â€œ Was ,” I said. “I’ve been cleaned out, as you can see.” Frankly, I don’t remember having mentioned to him that I owned a shop. Although, given my condition on the plane, anything was possible—well, almost anything. I am fairly positive I didn’t join the mile-high club.
    A sharp nudge from C.J. reminded me of my manners. “Tradd, this is Jane, Jane this is Tradd, and that,” I said nodding at Greg, “is InspectorWashburn. He’s investigating the burglary.”
    C.J. cooed like an amorous pigeon. Greg grunted.
    As well-bred as he appeared, Tradd responded appropriately. He cooed briefly, but not too flirtatiously back at C.J., grunted perfunctorily at Greg, and empathized deeply with my woes.
    â€œTell you what,” he said, “I know just the thing to get your mind off what happened.”
    â€œI already ate a Snickers bar,” I said.
    He laughed and putting a golden hand on my shoulder, turned me so that I faced the front window. “Look out there.”
    â€œOh, my God,” C.J. squealed, “is that white Jaguar yours?”
    Tradd fished a set of keys from the pocket of his tight, white shorts.
    â€œAnd you’re giving that to Abby?”
    â€œWhoa, not so fast.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry, little lady, but this one is spoken for. I was thinking more along the lines of a nice long ride.”
    â€œWhere to, Anchorage, Alaska?” C.J. was incorrigible. She was also grass green with envy, which, frankly, was a nice contrast for her apple-red lipstick.
    â€œHe’s talking to me,” I snapped.
    â€œThe South Carolina low country,” Tradd said.
    â€œYou mean the beach?” C.J. wailed. “Man they were sure right about life not being fair!”
    Tradd chuckled, obviously enjoying C.J.’s attentions. “Not the beach, exactly, although it’s about eight miles away as the crow flies. I’m headed down to an old rice plantation just outside of Georgetown.”
    â€œI love Georgetown,” I said.
    â€œAbby, don’t be ridiculous,” Greg muttered.
    I whirled. “Excuse me?”
    Greg literally took a step back. “Georgetown is at least a seven-hour round-trip.”
    Tradd rocked casually in his white sport shoes. I’m not up on brands, but this pair looked like they might easily cost my monthly mortgage.
    â€œWell, we wouldn’t do it in one day,” he said. “I had a weekend trip in mind.”
    Greg blinked but