What a Girl Wants Read Online Free PDF Page A

products was. She had George to thank for it, too, because her friend had come over for an improvised girl’s night and, the next day, exclaimed over how great her skin felt. She’d asked Ariana to make her more.
    It’d been a homemade moisturizer. Ariana hadn’t had extra money to spend on cosmetics back then.
    That day, everything had changed, falling into place. She’d found her purpose. She had a knack at making people feel good about themselves, and her skincare magnified that.
    Her dad even agreed, which was huge. Edward Warren didn’t agree with anyone frivolously. He particularly didn’t agree with her plans on running her little business.
    Her phone rang again as she was packaging some makeup remover for a makeup artist in the neighborhood. She took it out of her pocket, and the photo fell out with it. As she picked it up from the floor, she checked her screen.
    Sebastian Tate again. She bit her lip. He was determined, she’d give him that. Because she sometimes made bad decisions, she answered it. “I’m not interested.”
    “You don’t know what I’m offering,” he replied instantly.
    If his voice was any indication, she could imagine all the things he could offer, and she wasn’t interested in any of them—much. “Just give up. I’ll tell Dad you tried, and we’ll call it even.”
    He paused, as though he wasn’t averse to that idea. “I can’t do that without at least talking to you in person.”
    And ruin her fantasy imagining him being hot? “No, thank you,” she said before she hung up. She tucked her phone in her pocket.
    It caught on the photo. She took it out and studied it again.
    Maybe George was right—it couldn’t hurt to just talk to the private investigator.
    She checked the time. Twenty minutes till her next appointment. Before she could change her mind, she turned and headed for his office. He wouldn’t be there, anyway, she assured herself.
    But he was. To her surprise, he buzzed her in and stood waiting for her in the doorway. His smile was no-nonsense as his eyes focused on her.
    “I’m probably wasting your time,” she said as she reached the top of the stairs.
    He shrugged. “Let me be the judge of that. Come in.”
    She followed him inside, taking the visitor’s chair facing his desk. On his desk was a worn bronze nameplate that read Rick Clancy, Private Investigator, in simple lettering. The room was pretty much like what you’d imagine a detective’s office to be, except for one bookshelf that housed a collection of gourd art.
    She stared at it. He didn’t look like the type of person who’d collect gourds.
    “My wife is the artist,” he said, seeing what had drawn her attention.
    “They’re beautiful.”
    His eyes narrowed as he took his seat. “You sound like you mean it.”
    “I do.” She had an appreciation for obscure arts.
    “So what brings you in?”
    Right. Redirecting her attention, she reached forward and set the picture on the surface. “The baby is me, but I don’t know who the woman is.”
    He nodded. “You don’t have anyone in your family who’d know her?”
    “That’s the thing. My parents acted strange when I asked them about her.” She frowned at the picture, feeling the lines of the woman’s face tugging at her. “I feel like I’m missing something. It’s like she’s on the periphery of my mind, but I can’t put a finger on it.”
    “It’s bugging you and you want answers,” he summed up.
    She smiled. “Pretty much.”
    He took out a pad of paper and reached for a pen. “Do you have any clue if she’s a family member?”
    “I think she might be my uncle’s wife. He died in Desert Storm, and I have no idea what happened to her.”
    Nodding, Rick scribbled some notes. “Anything else you can think of that might help? Has your family always lived in San Francisco?”
    “We lived in Los Angeles until just before my sister was born.”
    He speared her with his gaze. “Are you sure you want to find out who this