Jumping in Puddles Read Free Page A

undone where it took place in bad faith.”
    “But the whole thing depends on someone knowing and asserting rights in the item after it’s been bought. You haven’t bought it, so you won’t lose out.”
    Bernie narrowed his eyes. “That’s cunning.”
    “You wouldn’t keep it, would you, Bernie? You did me a favor.”
    He might have kept it if he knew how rare it was, how important it was to her, what she’d do to get it back.
    “Wait out here while I charm Maureen.”
    When he emerged, Ellie held out her hand. She needed to hold the ring. Keep it close. Not let it out of her sight. Ever. Ever. Ever.
    “In Vito’s,” he said.
    “Fine.” She let her hand drop.
    She walked with him around the corner to the bar, convinced Bernie was going to get robbed, or a building would collapse on him, or an alien spaceship would whisk him away before he’d handed over the ring.
    He sat her in the corner, and when he came back, he was carrying champagne. Oh God. What does he want? Apart from the obvious . He poured two glasses and held one up to clink against hers.
    “What are we toasting?” she asked.
    “How luscious you look in that dress. How grateful you are I bought that ring. How much you owe me.”
    She counted out a hundred pounds in notes she’d been given that morning for repairing a necklace, ripped up the check Bernie had given her, and wrote one for the balance. It left seven pounds and fifty pence in her account.
    “No commission?” Bernie asked.
    “Don’t push it. I’m sitting here having a drink with you. That’s reward enough.”
    He pouted, and Ellie smiled. She leaned forward and whispered, “Red panties trimmed with lace.”
    He spat his champagne back into the glass.
    “That was attractive,” she said.
    Bernie wiped his mouth. “You don’t play fair.”
    She held out her hand. “The ring. The seller?”
    He took the envelope from his pocket, held the ring between his finger and thumb, and peered at it. She could hear her heart thumping. He stared into her eyes, and she met his gaze.
    “Technically, it belongs to me,” he said, eyeing the money and check on the table.
    “Stop messing around, Bernie. Stolen, remember? It’s a risk.”
    “You swear this isn’t some fabulously special piece worth half a million?”
    “I swear.” It’s actually priceless, though not in this world.
    He held her wrist and put the ring in the center of her palm. Ellie snapped her hand shut and almost caught his fingers.
    “Whoa, Ms. Flytrap. You going all Lord of the Rings on me?”
    “We wants it; we needs it,” she whispered and curled her body around her hand.
    “You’re freaking me out.”
    She laughed, but she was freaking herself out too. A wave of heat swept over her, and she pushed the ring deep into her pocket. “Who was the seller?”
    “Lord Carlyle. Owns a stately heap in North Yorkshire.”
    Ellie mentally filed the information, stayed long enough that Bernie didn’t feel short-changed, and caught the train home with the ring burning a hole in her pocket. But not literally. She kept checking.

Chapter Two
    Jago crawled out onto the roof of the pile of crap that masqueraded as his home and a national treasure and was instantly soaked in the ferocious downpour. He gritted his teeth, brushed wet hair from his eyes, and slithered down the tiles to where the turret roof was attached to the building. The weather vane on the peak, topped by an arrow, spun in the wind looking as if it was about to rise in the air like a child’s toy. The damn thing would probably spin his way and stab him in the chest.
    He scanned the roof, and his gaze snagged on a lighter-colored section that revealed the reason water currently leaked through the ceiling of the hexagonal room below. He crawled over to retrieve three slate tiles that had slipped, relieved to find none broken, and dragged himself up to jam them back into place. Only a temporary measure because this part of the roof needed restoration. Well,