A Job to Kill For Read Online Free PDF

handsome young actor type in khaki pants and a pink polo shirt rushed up. His arms were so muscular he could probably appear in Matthew McConaughey’s next film, but for now, he handed me a parking stub.
    “Just leave it right here,” he crooned. “I’ll take care of everything.”
    I smiled gratefully. Having grown up in Wisconsin, I’ve kept my Midwest frugality in most matters. I don’t indulge in facelifts, Ferraris, or foie gras. But valet parking is something else. Nothing is better than stepping out of a store and having your car magically materialize. The rap on LA is that people come here from all over America in search of a dream. For me, that dream includes never having to parallel park.
    I crossed the wide, sunny boulevard of Rodeo Drive, brushing past a tall woman wearing crystal spike heels, a black sequined miniskirt, and a V-neck angora sweater that barely contained her size D fake breasts. A round, bald man—a foot shorter and three decades older—had his arm around her. He might have bought her for the day, though the diamonds dripping from her neck and ears suggested a bigger investment.
    Passing Bijan, said to be the most expensive store in America, I peered through the window. An obviously bored salesman smiled at me. Big surprise that a place where socks are ninety bucks isn’t packed day and night. I had a sudden urge to go in, but a bold sign confirmed shopping by appointment only. Still, I had a feeling that if I rang with fifteen thou to spend on a suit, he’d let me in.
    Continuing down the street, I spotted the jewelry store David Orgell. A discreet Harry Winston–type place, it hit the big time years ago when Michael Jackson would come by to shop and the store would close to give him full attention. Now, if Jackson dropped in, the owners would probably summon security.
    I went inside and paused to get my bearings. Cases with sparkling jewels on one side, distinctive silver and tableware on the other. An attractive young woman asked my name, nodded slightly, and said, “The gentleman is expecting you.”
    As she led me to the back, I played with my wedding ring, and she gave a little smile.
    “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “We’re very tactful.”
    I laughed. “Jack’s not buying the jewelry for me, if that’s what you think. I’m not his mistress. I’m his client.”
    She raised an eyebrow, but—tactfully—said nothing more.
    When he saw me, Jack gave me a hug.
    “I intend to lecture you later,” he said. “Right now, help me pick.” He had two black velvet trays in front of him, each holding a necklace.
    “Oooh, how beautiful,” I said, gazing at an oversized choker that interwove clusters of crystals, colored gems, and gold wire. “That’s gorgeous. So creative.”
    Jack looked relieved. “So I’ll go with that one?”
    “No.” I shook my head. “Creative is good for kindergarten kids in clay class. Dance troupes on Doheny. But for an anniversary…” I looked at the other tray, where an oval-cut emerald hung on a gold chain, surrounded by baguette diamonds. “Got to go with class.”
    Behind the counter, the store manager, a slim man named Ali, held up the necklace, catching a ray of sunshine from the window. Light-filled bursts of green and gold suddenly exploded all around us.
    Jack looked at me, and I gave a tiny nod. Ali caught the exchange and smiled.
    “Excellent choice,” he said. “I’ll go have it wrapped.”
    After Ali stepped away, Jack shook his head. “I trust you, Lacy. But twenty’s supposed to be the big anniversary. If I get Gina the emerald for nineteen, what happens next year?”
    “Check with Indiana Jones,” I joked. “He found some nice baubles inside that tomb, didn’t he?”
    Jack smiled and I looked down into the glass case. A bracelet with gleaming diamonds shaped into dozens of delicate flowers caught my eye. What exquisite workmanship. Delicate, different, and well designed. Just what I liked.
    “Lovely,” said