Wicked Craving Read Online Free Page A

fresh, and she’d be sure to place a cut rose in the bud vase on the nightstand and some Godiva truffles in the candy dish on the dresser.
    It didn’t take much to make Gran feel at home.
    Besides, although Granny Reid was an immaculate housekeeper herself, she was far too kind a soul to notice anybody else’s dust. And if she did, being a genteel southern lady, she would never mention it.
    â€œI’m comin’ to see you, Savannah girl, not your dirt,” had been the mantra, years ago when apologies were made and housecleaning was higher on Savannah’s list of life priorities. Now “basically sanitary” and “moderately tidy” were her only standards.
    Savannah’s heart warmed at the thought of seeing her beloved Gran, the woman who had always been grandmother, mother, mentor, and best friend to her.
    And as Savannah drew herself a hot bath in the Victorian, clawfoot tub and added a generous amount of jasmine essential oil to it, she checked the rose bubble bath to make sure there was enough to last for Gran’s two-week visit.
    Floral scented baths were imprinted on the Reid girls’ DNA, along with a love of chocolate, romance novels, and silky, feminine undies.
    But no sooner had Savannah lit the votive candles, pulled the shade down on the window, and settled into the blissful, fragrant warmth of the bath than her cell phone rang.
    She glanced at the slacks she had left hanging on a hook on the back of the door and scowled. They continued to play an irritating, frenetic version of “La Cucharacha”—a tune she had chosen for Dirk.
    No particular reason. But the song annoyed her and so did he, so it had seemed appropriate.
    â€œDadgummit!” she said, hauling herself out of the tub and splashing jasmine-scented water onto the floor as she slipped and slid her way on the wet tile over to the door.
    She snatched the phone out of her pants’ pocket, flipped it open, and said, “You know, I never really liked you all that much.”
    â€œYou do, too.”
    â€œI’ll have you know I’d just gotten into a nice, hot bath and—”
    â€œSo, you’re naked?”
    She snapped the cell phone closed and returned to the tub. But she kept the phone in her hand.
    Dirk never gave up that easily.
    The moment she was settled back in the tub, the phone rang again.
    â€œWould you leave me alone?” she said. “I have to drive to LAX and pick up Gran in a few hours, and this is the only time I can relax and—”
    â€œThen you don’t want a piece of this?”
    â€œA piece of what? You’ve got nothing good to offer me. You’re dieting, remember?”
    â€œA piece of a homicide case.”
    She sat up so abruptly that her bath water nearly splashed over the edge of the tub.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah, and not your usual gang or drug shooting, either. This one’s up on Lincoln Ridge.”
    â€œNo way!”
    Savannah closed her eyes for a moment and mentally scanned the row of mansions that were perched atop the seaside cliff. Lincoln Ridge overlooked not only the ocean, but the picturesque Pacific coastline stretching for miles in both directions.
    At least three famous actors, one rock star, and a dot-com mogul lived there, along with other assorted celebrities and high-society darlings.
    â€œWho’s dead?” she asked.
    â€œMaria Wellman.”
    â€œThat quack, diet-doctor dude’s wife?”
    â€œWho said he’s a quack?”
    â€œAnybody who says that all you have to do is listen to his CD one time and the fat will just melt right off you…that’s a quack.”
    There was a long silence on the other end. Then: “Well…he might not be a quack. It might work.”
    â€œHoly cow, you bought one of his CDs.”
    â€œDid not.”
    â€œDid, too. There’s no way you’d sound that disappointed unless you plunked down hard cash for that