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Max decided. His money was on the former. He could not imagine Jason having an idiot for a mistress. In which case he was up against an extremely clever opponent.
    “Luttrell was a master of neo-expressionism,” Max said blandly.
    “Expressionism? That's modern art, isn't it?” Cleo wrinkled her nose. “I've never really liked modern art. I prefer pictures that make sense. Dogs, horses, seascapes. That kind of thing. I don't have any modern art hanging here at the inn. It wouldn't fit in at all.”
    A cold anger raged through Max. There was only one conclusion. Cleo was obviously aware of the true value of the Luttrells and had decided to play dumb. She was going to pretend she knew nothing about them. She must have realized that Max had no proof she had them in her possession.
    It was a clever tactic, he admitted to himself. And one he had not expected to encounter. But, then, nothing was going quite as he had anticipated here at Robbins' Nest Inn.
    “Now, then, as I was saying,” Cleo continued blithely, “if you're an artist like Jason, you'll probably enjoy the arrangement I had with him.”
    Max raised one brow. “What, exactly, are you offering?”
    “The same salary I gave Jason plus room and board any time you're staying with us in exchange for the kind of odd-job work you were doing tonight. I promise you'll get plenty of time to yourself to paint. You can have Jason's old room in the attic. It's quiet and comfortable. Jason liked it.”
    Room and board but not her bed, then. At least not yet. “I'm not exactly a starving artist, Ms. Robbins.”
    “I know that.” Cleo smiled gently. “But there are a lot of different ways to starve, aren't there? You're a friend of Jason's, and that's all that matters.”
    “I'm not sure I would make a good Antony,” Max said dryly.
    “Huh?” A second later Cleo's face turned a charming shade of warm pink. “Oh, I get it. I'd better warn you that we have one ironclad rule around here. No Cleopatra cracks and absolutely no asp jokes.”
    “I'll try to remember that.”
    “So? Are you interested?” Cleo gave him an inquiring look.
    The sense of unreality that had gripped Max earlier returned. He stared at Cleo for a long while, and then he made his decision.
    What the hell, he thought. He had to find out what had happened to his Luttrells, and it wasn't like he had anything or anyone waiting for him in Seattle. Jason had sent him in this direction for a reason. Max decided he might as well follow the yellow brick road to the end.
    Another turning point, he thought. And as usual, he had no reason to go back.
    “As it happens,” Max said, “I've just lost a job. I'll take the deal you gave Jason.”

Chapter
2
     
    A ndromeda, these muffins are out of this world.” Cleo popped the last of the hot muffin into her mouth and chewed happily. “As usual.”
    Andromeda, the head chef of the Robbins' Nest Inn, smiled serenely. All of Andromeda's smiles were serene. She was heavily into metaphysical studies. “I'm glad you like them, dear. It's a variation on the corn bread recipe Daystar's been using for the past few months. You know Daystar. She can't stop experimenting.”
    “The old recipe was terrific, too, but this one is even better. The guests are going to love these little suckers.” Cleo scooped up another corn bread muffin and slathered it with honey.
    She hastily devoured it as she surveyed the busy kitchen. Andromeda's staff, all middle-aged and all members of the Cosmic Harmony Women's Retreat, were an industrious crew.
    The arrangement between the inn and Cosmic Harmony was simple and lucrative for both sides. Andromeda and her team provided first-rate seafood and vegetarian cuisine for the inn's guests that was unmatched anywhere else on the coast. In return Cleo paid the Retreat a portion of the inn's profits and agreed not to force the women into standard white kitchen uniforms.
    Andromeda and her friend, Daystar, were the cornerstones of the inn's