Relatively Risky by Pauline Baird Jones

Next to the doors was a small plaque that announced to the curious that Blue Bayou Catering could be found inside. He checked the address. It matched, so he knocked. Heard a distant, “Come on in,” so he pushed open the door and stepped into a hallway that belonged to a distant, more gracious past. Cool enclosed him. Peace, too. Kids may have played here in bygone days, but unlike the Baker house, they hadn’t left their mark. The wood floor was smoothly pristine. It swept the length of the house, crying out for the swish of long dresses. From its heart, a stairway curved up, the banister inviting him to take a slide—even if he was in advanced years and wouldn’t survive impact with the wood floor.
    â€œGive it a go,” a cool, amused voice said from his right.
    Alex looked and found the owner of the voice, leaning against a door jamb. She was everything he most liked in a woman. Tall, cool and blonde—with just a hint of red in her hair. He couldn’t picture her riding a bike, let alone running into a carjacker with one. Her eyes swept him, sparked with interest. He waited for his libido to kick on, but it just sat there. “Excuse me?”
    â€œThe banister. Everyone wants to slide down it.”
    Okay, her apparent ability to read his mind went into the minus column, but when she started toward him, one hip at a time, her body all fluid and sexy, he added a few more ticks to the plus column and told his libido to get cracking. It was really letting him down. Out of habit, he produced his badge and showed it to her.
    â€œMiss Whitby here?”
    Her perfect brows arched perfectly. “Nell?”
    Nell suited her. Sounded more friendly. “If she rides a bike and has a muse.”
    Her lips twitched slightly. “That’s Nell.” Now her brows pulled together in a frown. “Why would you be looking for Nell? She is the most law abiding person I know.”
    He could see she was going to get all protective, when it ought to be obvious that it was the world that needed protection from Nell.
    â€œI just need her statement. About the car jacking.”
    That popped her brows up again. Interesting that Nell hadn’t mentioned it.
    â€œNell doesn’t have a car.”
    Alex sighed. “She witnessed a car jacking but left before I could get her statement. The muse is, apparently, her boss.”
    She laughed and smoothed down her hackles. “That sounds like Nell. I’m Sarah Burland. Nell’s other boss. And friend.”
    At least she hadn’t tossed lawyer in there. She shook hands with him. Her hand was cool and slim as it settled inside his. He enjoyed the contact but his libido remained stubbornly unaffected. It had never let him down before. Was there a place to get it checked? He met her rueful gaze and half shrugged. Felt like he should apologize.
    She grinned, but it turned into a frown. “She didn’t mention anything about it.”
    Because it was crazy? It wasn’t his job to fill her in, so he asked, “Is she here?”
    â€œIn the garden. Second door on the right, then out the terrace doors. She’s probably up a tree.”
    Alex had started to move, but stopped at this. “Up a…tree?”
    â€œShe likes being up.” Sarah paused her own retreat to add, “Check the oak in the middle. It’s her favorite.”
    â€œThanks. I think.” The second door opened on a living room, a tidy and welcoming room with terrace doors that opened onto a small, not so tidy garden.
    Several old oak trees cast their shade on the enclosed space, but there was a particularly fine specimen in the center, its branches reaching close to the ground, as if in invitation. It reminded him of the tree in Swiss Family Robinson , only without the tree house. In a particularly complex juncture between several branches, he picked out what looked like a reclining figure. She’d picked a spot a serious distance from