Page 88 of Over Her Dead Body

“Call it what you want. I think we both know better.”

Reid had said those exact words the first time I brought him to a client dinner.

CHAPTER 33

EMMA

Ihad been a junior specialist for less than a year. Spouses had been invited, a word that still felt too adult to describe us. Reid wore the only jacket he owned that did not come with matching pants.

I explained the rules to him in the car.

“Don’t ask what anything costs. Don’t touch anything unless someone hands it to you. If the collector calls a painting challenging, he hates it.”

“What do I say if he asks what I think?”

“That you find it interesting.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Especially then.”

The dinner was held in a house on Lake Austin, in a zip code where Reid and I belonged for exactly as long as dinner lasted. At home, the envelope marked TABLE contained one hundred and eighty-six dollars. The painting above our host’s fireplace was worth several million.

Reid noticed both.

Our host took my hand when we arrived and held it longer than necessary.

“Celeste usually comes herself.”

“She had another engagement.”

His eyes moved over me. “Then I owe her a thank-you.”

I smiled because I had only recently stopped answering phones for a living and had not yet learned that a client’s money did not require me to find him charming.

His hand settled against my bare back as he guided me toward the dining room.

Reid watched it happen.

Our host seated me on his right. Reid ended up halfway down the table between a foundation director and a woman who spent most of dinner explaining why her third house was not technically a vacation property.

The collector leaned close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath.

“If I’d known Celeste was hiding you at the house, I might have considered selling sooner.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“No need. Come back next week. We’ll go through a few things privately.”

Reid looked up from across the table.

I kept smiling. “Call the office. We’ll arrange whatever you need.”

“I was hoping you might handle that personally.”

“My office handles my calendar.”

The collector laughed as though I had flirted with him.