Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
He had, and she’d kind of fallen for the super-smart Armand and wondered if he was going to get together with the police detective he’d battled with over the course of the investigation.
None of which solved the case of her missing pup.
The door was slightly ajar. Had Luna learned how to open a door and decided to go wandering in the middle of the night? And if so, how many of Quaid’s belongings was she going to have to replace? Luna could be klutzy. That big tail of hers could do some damage, and Quaid probably had a bunch of nice stuff in here.
She wrapped her robe around her and prayed she didn’t look too bad before heading out into the living room.
The good news? The place didn’t look like it had been ransacked by pirates—or a curious dog’s massive tail. But there was no Luna.
“There you go, girl,” a deep voice sounded from the kitchen. “Here’s hoping that’s fairly similar to your usual food or we’ll be going for walks all day.”
She moved into the kitchen, and there was Quaid in athletic pants and a T-shirt. Luna’s leash was hanging over the old landline that was still mounted to the wall. “What happened? She usually wakes me up.”
Quaid sent her a smile that threatened to melt her. “I heard her scratching and figured out what she needed. I hope you don’t mind I opened your door and took her out for a morning walk. I promise I did not look inside. You want some coffee? I got a couple of cups from the café while we were out.”
She gratefully accepted the travel-size cup emblazoned with the café’s name. “Thanks, but you have a perfectly good machine downstairs, and by perfectly good I mean spectacular.”
She’d noticed it during her tour yesterday. It was one of those super-expensive machines that usually required a barista. It made all kinds of hot drinks.
Quaid took a sip from his own cup while Luna munched down. “I am not smart enough to work that thing. Cindy had it brought in, and I can’t even get it to make regular old coffee.”
“Well, then it’s good for you that I worked at a Stirbucks for three years while I was in college, and yes, you heard me right. It was Stirbucks, and yes, it had a slightly different logo from Starbucks. The owners had found an old Starbucks sign, and they put a patch over the mermaid’s eye. It was one of the first court cases I ever helped on. We totally lost that one, but I did learn how to make a killer latte. I’m sure I can figure it out.” The owners had also had a Duking Donuts store they claimed was nothing like the national chain because their donuts all had a fighting theme. Upper Cut Crullers, Knock-Out Old Fashioneds.
Yeah, she’d lost that one, too.
“I look forward to it. You’re staying, then?” Quaid asked.
She hadn’t thought much about it the night before. She’d been too busy reading. “I’m staying at least until I’ve read the other four books. Are there only five?”
He frowned. “Five books?”
“Yeah.” This was the part where he might get mad, but she wasn’t going to hide it. She’d done the potential crime. She wanted to know if she would be doing any time. “Armand Landry. I needed a distraction last night so I read The Man in the Black Hat.”
His jaw actually dropped. “You read my book?”
Yeah, that didn’t sound good. The night before it had seemed like a good idea, and she’d liked the book, but now she could see where it might be a slight invasion of privacy. “You told me I could use whatever I needed, and since you weren’t around to distract me with what would have been the start of an ill-advised sexual relationship, I had to settle for a good book.”
“Those are private,” Quaid said, his expression going blank.
“They were on your bookshelf, not like hidden in your office or anything.” She pointed to the shelves. “They’re right there. In the open. With all the other books that I would assume people are allowed to read.”
“Jayna, you had to know that . . . You said it was good?” Quaid asked.
Thank god. The writer’s ego was totally going to save her and keep the nice hot man from kicking her to the curb, where she would have to live because she was pretty sure her car had died in the parking lot the night before. She gave him what she hoped was her brightest smile. “It was so good. I did not figure out that it was the jock. I was shocked when I found out he killed the cheerleader because she’d figured out that he’d purposefully thrown the state championship all those years ago to get his father out of trouble with the mob.”