At least the earrings had some value.

When news reached Eden that half was hers, she’d just lost her job at Psychic Connexions — which meant she was officially looking for work again. She’d gone into Triple-A hoping what was behind the glass front door had more potential than the name of the place.

What she’d found was two desks. Overflowing garbage cans. Peeling wallpaper. The stench of cigar smoke permeated the air. All of this luxury was next door to a coffee bar, also owned by Andy, called Hot Stuff.

Andy wanted to buy Eden out, which was fine with her, but he didn’t have any money, which wasn’t fine by her. So, despite her gut instinct to walk away from the business completely, she moved to the city, rented a small apartment, and started to work there. She didn’t have a PI license and had no intention of getting one, so she instead helped out with paperwork, filing, typing, and answering the phone. She’d tried to get the smell of cigars out of the air and walls; however, Febreze could only do so much.

She waited for Andy to get enough money together to pay for her half of the agency.

It had been almost a month. She was still waiting.

In the meantime, Andy did give her reasonable biweekly paychecks to help make ends meet. He wasn’t a total tightwad.

“Eden,” Andy greeted her when she walked through the glass front door. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Trust me, after the day I’ve had, I’m glad to be back.”

Andy was a man who’d definitely had the potential of being attractive and charming at one time, but life and circumstances had gotten in the way to make him pinched and squinty. An FBI agent until fifteen years ago, he was pushing fifty, still solidly built, pale blond hair and eyebrows, and warm and friendly green eyes.