Read Online So About the Money by Cathy Perkins - Free Book Online Page B

reception desk, flashing those damned dimples at Tracey. Normally the receptionist was the office mom—appointment-taker and excuse-maker. Tracey remembered the client’s names—and those of their spouses, children, grandchildren, and favorite hunting dog. Right now, she looked as if she’d climb over the counter separating her desk from the waiting area if JC merely crooked his finger in her direction. Phones were ringing, all the lines lit up, but Tracey looked like she’d never heard the phrase, Answer the phone .
    JC’s body tightened enough for Holly to know he’d noticed her, but Tracey was still gazing longingly at the man, eating up the attention like she was seventeen instead of forty-seven.
    Holly’s gaze drifted to JC’s long, lean body. What had six years’ experience done for him? He’d been her first love, but she wasn’t a kid any longer. Had it all been hormones and young lust? Before she could wonder what he looked like without the tailored shirt, she sent her drooling inner teenager to her room and locked the door.
    “If I can interrupt?” she asked.
    JC’s lips twitched at her ironic tone.
    Tracey blinked. “What? Oh, Holly, are you leaving now?”
    What gave her away? The briefcase or the coat? She nodded, ignoring JC. Slim hips resting against Tracey’s desk, he was giving Holly a slow inspection that seemed to remove her clothing piece by piece.
    He was just doing it because he knew it irritated her.
    “Have you seen my mother this morning?” she asked Tracey.
    “Donna’s still at the Chamber of Commerce breakfast.”
    JC’s dimples reappeared. “I can’t believe you’re back in Richland, working for your mom.”
    Something she’d sworn she’d never do. She gave him a withering look. “A temporary arrangement.”
    She hadn’t asked about his mother, a woman she’d adored during their college years, because it seemed hypocritical to mention Antheia when she was no longer involved with her son.
    No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t going to talk about Antheia because JC was using her mother as a putdown and she refused to use his mother that way.
    The front door opened, saving Holly from round four with JC. Nicole Stevens entered and flashed a thousand-watt smile. “G’morning.”
    “Hello, Nicole.” Tracey turned her attention from the detective to the swing-top floating around the petite blonde’s killer body. “That’s a darling outfit.”
    “You like it? It’s a Lilly P.” Nicole beamed with pleasure. From her Manolo Blahnik shoes to her diamond-studded ears, Tim’s wife always projected an image of leisure and wealth. Extravagance seemed to be Nicole’s middle name. Holly was relieved she didn’t have to pay off the woman’s charge cards.
    Nicole executed a model-worthy pivot on her stiletto heels, and set the blouse’s fabric in motion. “What do you think, Holly? Does it make me look big?”
    Holly took in the innocent face Nicole presented. The comment felt like another of the woman’s subtle digs. Her size four, perfectly proportioned body made Holly feel like an awkward giant. “You look lovely.”
    Nicole focused on the purse hanging from Holly’s shoulder. “Is that a Borgedorf?”
    She instantly forgave Nicole for the “big” comment and swiveled the zebra-striped hobo so all three women could appreciate the details. “Isn’t it great? I found it last weekend.”
    She left out the half-price detail.
    “It’s modern and retro at the same time,” Tracey said approvingly.
    JC rolled his eyes.
    What did a guy know?
    Finger tapping her tiny, pointed chin, Nicole studied the bag. “Isn’t that last year’s design?”
    Way to kill the moment.
    Nicole turned back to Tracey. Usually, Nicole looked like she belonged at a 1950s Junior League function, but from the current expression on her face, Desperate Housewives might be more appropriate. “Is Tim here?”
    “I haven’t seen him,” Tracey said.
    Strange. Tim’s Mercedes was in their