book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.hree quarters of a million for it.”
“Wow.” He blinked. Diane’s gallery moved in the three to ten thousand range. This was a whole different ballgame. “So, has anyone made you an offer?”
“Oh, several people have, but I had no intention of selling it until after I had the showing in two weeks. I wanted a bidding war at a silent auction, you see.”
“I see.” He made more notes. “Can you tell me how many owners the piece had? Would someone want it back?”
She bit her lip. “This is going to make me sound like an idiot, but I didn’t make the purchase. My partner James did. I know we had all of the paperwork, but I never studied it closely. I can ask him when he gets back from Russia, but his phone is out of service there.”
“Russia.” Man, this one might take some work. “Right. Is there any other information you can give me? Where did James buy it, for example.”
“That I can look up, I think.” She turned to her computer, then hit print after a few moments of searching. She blacked out something with a magic marker. “Here. This is a receipt for the transfer from the gallery in Philadelphia where James procured the painting.”
“Thanks.” That was something, at least. “If you think of anything else, call me immediately. I’ll start looking into previous owners.”
Why hadn’t he stuck to taking pictures of cheating spouses? Those cases were boring, but easy as pie.
Oh, right. Aden hated to be bored. He bared his teeth in what he hoped was a polite smile when she showed him out. His Nana would beat him if he was rude to a nice lady like Mrs. Riley. He paused outside the gallery to tug out his phone so he could Google the artist and painting in question. The last sale had been in a gallery in Philadelphia, and Aden hoped that catalog would be online somewhere.
Holy crap. Over 100000 results on Girard Ledeux. Aden had no desire to hunt through all those entries. Maybe he needed to hire an assistant. He glanced up, realizing where he was and smiling. Or, he could go to the library and get his personal assistant services for free. Librarians loved research, right? They were also mostly little old ladies, and that breed loved Aden.
That sounded like the perfect plan.
Chapter Two
“Excuse me, there’s no one at the delivery desk. I need to look at an art catalog. Can you tell me who to talk to?”
Amelia Patrick glanced up from staring blankly at her computer, her gaze falling on the hottest man she’d seen since she moved to Boston. Talk about tall, dark and handsome. She preferred her language dead, but she liked a man who sizzled with life.
Ed, who worked in the music collection, just snorted and jerked his head toward Amelia’s desk. “Try Patrick. She has the time.”
No frowning , she told herself. It will give you wrinkles. Her mother said that all the time. She grinned at the thought, and stood, drawing the man’s notice. She did have time to help even if it wasn’t her shift on the delivery desk. Or if what this man wanted wasn’t her specialty. This particular public library had more territorial specialists than any academic library Amelia had ever worked in, and they tended to snub the new girl. She had to pay her dues, and she wasn’t from a Boston family, so that put her even lower on the totem pole.
The collections made everything worthwhile. Not to mention helping this lovely man was way more exciting than wondering what her cats were doing up in her apartment.
“I can help you, Sir,” she
“Wow.” He blinked. Diane’s gallery moved in the three to ten thousand range. This was a whole different ballgame. “So, has anyone made you an offer?”
“Oh, several people have, but I had no intention of selling it until after I had the showing in two weeks. I wanted a bidding war at a silent auction, you see.”
“I see.” He made more notes. “Can you tell me how many owners the piece had? Would someone want it back?”
She bit her lip. “This is going to make me sound like an idiot, but I didn’t make the purchase. My partner James did. I know we had all of the paperwork, but I never studied it closely. I can ask him when he gets back from Russia, but his phone is out of service there.”
“Russia.” Man, this one might take some work. “Right. Is there any other information you can give me? Where did James buy it, for example.”
“That I can look up, I think.” She turned to her computer, then hit print after a few moments of searching. She blacked out something with a magic marker. “Here. This is a receipt for the transfer from the gallery in Philadelphia where James procured the painting.”
“Thanks.” That was something, at least. “If you think of anything else, call me immediately. I’ll start looking into previous owners.”
Why hadn’t he stuck to taking pictures of cheating spouses? Those cases were boring, but easy as pie.
Oh, right. Aden hated to be bored. He bared his teeth in what he hoped was a polite smile when she showed him out. His Nana would beat him if he was rude to a nice lady like Mrs. Riley. He paused outside the gallery to tug out his phone so he could Google the artist and painting in question. The last sale had been in a gallery in Philadelphia, and Aden hoped that catalog would be online somewhere.
Holy crap. Over 100000 results on Girard Ledeux. Aden had no desire to hunt through all those entries. Maybe he needed to hire an assistant. He glanced up, realizing where he was and smiling. Or, he could go to the library and get his personal assistant services for free. Librarians loved research, right? They were also mostly little old ladies, and that breed loved Aden.
That sounded like the perfect plan.
Chapter Two
“Excuse me, there’s no one at the delivery desk. I need to look at an art catalog. Can you tell me who to talk to?”
Amelia Patrick glanced up from staring blankly at her computer, her gaze falling on the hottest man she’d seen since she moved to Boston. Talk about tall, dark and handsome. She preferred her language dead, but she liked a man who sizzled with life.
Ed, who worked in the music collection, just snorted and jerked his head toward Amelia’s desk. “Try Patrick. She has the time.”
No frowning , she told herself. It will give you wrinkles. Her mother said that all the time. She grinned at the thought, and stood, drawing the man’s notice. She did have time to help even if it wasn’t her shift on the delivery desk. Or if what this man wanted wasn’t her specialty. This particular public library had more territorial specialists than any academic library Amelia had ever worked in, and they tended to snub the new girl. She had to pay her dues, and she wasn’t from a Boston family, so that put her even lower on the totem pole.
The collections made everything worthwhile. Not to mention helping this lovely man was way more exciting than wondering what her cats were doing up in her apartment.
“I can help you, Sir,” she
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