Bitter Sweets

lit up like the Rockefeller Plaza Christmas tree during a power surge. “Would you? That’d be great!”

    Shaking her head and sighing, Savannah shoved the plate down the table and out of his reach.

    “Have a cookie, Ryan,” she said to the previously expired corpse. She turned to his companion. “You, too, Gibson, while there’s still some left.”

    Savannah knew better than to offer anything with a calorie in it to Tammy, who sat there, demurely sipping her cup of decaffeinated coffee, flavored with sugarless sweetener, nonfat creamer, and carob powder. Okay, Savannah admitted that the younger woman did wear a petite size three and would probably live forever without one cell of plaque to block her arteries.

    But she had no boobs.

    Savannah took a small measure of consolation in this fact: Tammy Hart would live long and die without ever knowing the hedonistic pleasure of savoring a sip of pure cholesterol-laden sin, or experiencing the womanly thrill of overflowing her bra cups. Both of which Savannah enjoyed every morning of her life.

    Finally, Savannah had convinced herself that she felt sorry for Tammy and her sleek, slender figure. So terribly sorry.

    But it hadn’t been easy.

    “Tell me, dear,” said John Gibson, the elegant, silver-haired British gentleman sitting at the end of the table beside Ryan, “Exactly how can Ryan and I assist you with this new case of yours? We are, as always, at your disposal.” In a knightly gesture, he waved a hand toward his younger friend.

    Dirk made an unpleasant snort which, Savannah surmised, had nothing to do with his sinus infection and more to do with his acute case of homophobia. She shot him a warning glance.

    “Nothing at the moment, Gibson, thank you,” she replied as she rose to add hot water and another tea bag to the older man’s individual pot of Earl Grey. “This will be a pretty cut-anddried search. I don’t think we’ll be needing your special surveillance skills or equipment.”

    “If you do, you’ll let us know?” Ryan said, smiling up at Savannah with a face that still took her breath away. Tall, dark, and outrageously handsome, Ryan Stone had provided the inspiration for many of Savannah’s midnight fantasies. If he had not been so happily involved with Gibson for so many years, she would have employed every one of her considerably feminine wiles to try to reorient his sexual preference.

    Fat chance.

    Seeing the way that Tammy was gazing at him like a lustbesotted cocker spaniel, Savannah guessed that the same thoughts had crossed her mind. Oh, well...

    “Tammy and I can handle this one...at least for the time being,” she said as she returned to her seat and plopped a dollop of chocolate-flavored whipped cream into her coffee. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tammy cringe. “Starting tomorrow morning, you can begin checking on Brian O’Donnell,” she told her. “Just the usual stuff to see that all his ID is legit, that he’s who he says he is. He seems sincere and all that, but we want to make sure before we go searching for someone on his behalf.”

    Tammy’s prissiness disappeared and her expression turned businesslike as she flipped open a notebook and began to scribble furiously. “Got it, boss,” she said with an eager, if a bit naive, enthusiasm that went straight to Savannah’s heart. Tammy is a good kid, she reminded herself. A little young, a little skinny, a tad selfrighteous, perhaps. But a good kid.

    And what about me?” Dirk said, still wearing a pout that looked ridiculous on a forty-plus man’s face. A face that was endearing for its character, but had that street-worn look, as though he had been dragged around the block a time or two on his overly robust belly. “Why did you haul me over here if you don’t need me?”

    “Because, darlin’...” Savannah blew him a sexy kiss across the table. “... we love you and we wanted you here to celebrate our first case with us.”

    He blushed all the way up to his receding hairline. It occurred to Savannah that Dirk needed to get a life if something like a little Southern flirtation gave him a hot flush.

    “Besides,” she added in a quiet monotone, “I want you to run some DMV plates and do a couple of record checks.”

    “I knew there was a catch,” he growled, fighting back a grudging grin. Dirk was never more happy than when he could complain of being used. “What’s in it for me? I mean, I’m not exactly on your payroll