So this morning he’d arrived and the whole office had stopped dead. Molly had just returned from inspecting Sophia’s property, and even that voluble lady had been silenced as Jackson and his lawyer were ushered through.

‘That’s Jackson Baird,’ Sophia had breathed as the entourage swept past into Trevor’s inner sanctum. ‘I’ve never seen him in the flesh. Is he a client of yours?’ The elderly landlady had clearly been immensely impressed.

If he was a client it’d do the place an enormous amount of good, Molly had thought, and wondered which of their properties Jackson could possibly be interested in. They had some lovely bayside properties for sale, but surely none palatial enough to suit a man of his wealth.

‘Jackson made me forget your frog,’ Angela admitted. ‘Well, you have to admit he’s gorgeous.’

‘Sure he’s gorgeous,’ Molly acknowledged, and then, more frantically, ‘But where’s my frog?’

‘He must be here somewhere.’ Angela dropped to her knees, her fair curls merging with Molly’s dark ones as they met under the desk. They were both in their late twenties, and they were both extremely attractive, but there the resemblance ended. Angela treated the world as if it was there to give her a good time whereas Molly knew it would do no such thing. ‘I mean, where can he have gone?’

Plenty of places. Trevor Farr’s real estate agency was a small firm, and its owner, Molly’s cousin, was a muddler. The place was crammed with files almost to the ceiling. Somewhere among them was one green frog.

‘Sam will kill me,’ Molly wailed.

‘We’ll find him.’

‘I should never have brought him to work.’

‘You hardly had a choice,’ Angela retorted.

No. She hadn’t had a choice. Molly and Sam travelled on the same train-her eight-year-old nephew to Cove Park Elementary and Molly to Bayside Property. Their journey had almost been complete this morning before she’d realised why Sam’s school bag was bulging, and she’d been horrified.