SEAL the Deal Read Online Free Page B

had even found a neighborhood kid to
mow her lawn weekly for a song.
    Life was good.
    “A little early to be drinking, Maeve,”
noted a voice over her shoulder.
    Maeve didn’t even turn around. She just
balled up a page of the Style section and tossed it over her shoulder at the
voice.
    Lacey caught the wad right before it hit
her face. “Good aim. Sure you don’t have eyes in the back of your head?”
    “I saw your reflection in the wine glass. Grab
a glass and pull up a chair. I picked up a new Cab I’ve been aching to try. Cabernet-of-the-year
according to Wine Connoisseur .”
    Lacey went back into the kitchen and
re-emerged, glass in hand. Kicking off the stilettos, she let out a sigh.
    “From that sigh, I’m guessing they were
pretty boring funerals.”
    Lacey smiled slyly. “Then I guess your
instincts aren’t as good as you think.” She pulled a section of newspaper
toward her. “Are these the obituaries?”
    “I circled a couple that you might find
interesting,” Maeve answered and gave a careless wave to Lacey’s murmur of
thanks. “So what happened?”
    Lacey set the newspaper down and gazed dreamily
out to the Bay. “Well, the first interesting thing that happened was falling
and hitting my head.” She raised her eyebrows for emphasis. “Bad.”
    “You okay?”
    “Definitely. Think it only hurt my pride. I
blame these stupid shoes you made me wear.”
    “You just need more practice in them,”
Maeve said, reverently touching one of the shoes as she bent over to retrieve
her scattered newspaper. “Sexy little things. And with that dark suit, it’s
just the perfect mix of sex kitten and real estate guru. I need them back for
Saturday, you know.”
    “Of course.”
    “And the second thing that happened?”
Maeve prodded.
    “I met the hottest man I’ve ever seen in
my life.”
    “At a funeral? You’re kidding.”
    “Nope, not kidding.”
    “Were you drinking?” Maeve narrowed her
eyes at her friend.
    “God, no! What’s the matter with you?”
    “At a funeral.” Maeve repeated, a
statement this time, not a question. “Wait a second. It’s not some old guy or
something, right?”
    “Oh, please. Of course not. He’s probably
my age. So way too old for you,” she noted. It was a well-known fact Maeve
preferred the younger set. “Total muffin, as you would say.”
    “A muffin,” Maeve said appreciatively, the
same way an art connoisseur might say “A Monet.”
    Lacey gave herself a small shake as if to
break a spell. “So anyway, that’s it. Bumped my head. Met a man. End of story.”
    “What do you mean, ‘end of story’? Didn’t
you get his number?”
    “Of course not. I was there on business.”
    “Oh. Family member of the dead guy?”
    “No. But definitely too close for me to
mess with, not that I’m looking for that right now anyway. The widow’s property
would be worth a ton, and she’s already got my business card in hand.”
    “That’s pathetic. You need a good date. Well,
you need more than that. But let’s start with a date. That woman won’t be looking
to sell that property for months. Maybe years.”
    “So, I’ll be patient. It panned out for
the Miron listing, didn’t it? And for yours, for that matter.”
    “I didn’t sell.”
    “No, but I got a cheap room to rent.”
    Maeve laughed. She always thought it
ironic that it was Lacey who had convinced her to keep the waterfront home she
inherited from her late grandmother. It would have been a nice commission for
Lacey, and Maeve had been ready to sign on the dotted line. “Well, I still say
you should have asked for his number. Do you know his name?”
    “No.”
    “Where he works?”
    “No.”
    Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you find
anything out about him at all?”
    Her grin wide, Lacey leaned forward and
took a leisurely sip of Cabernet. “Well, from the feel of his arms around me,
he probably bench presses 425 pounds.”
    Maeve nearly dropped her glass, jostling
it just enough that the