“Now who sounds like my dad?”

“I am nothing like your daddy. There’s a distinct difference between making sure you can pay the bills and having a cast-iron rod wedged up your butt.” She turned the page and a stack of photos Cassie hadn’t mounted yet slid onto her lap. “Oh, are these new?”

Cassie leaned to one side, but still couldn’t get a good view of them from the couch. “Which ones?”

“The French Quarter at night... Jackson Square vendors... Lake Pontchartrain...” she said, studying each one then moving it to the back of the stack. “And...ho, ho, ho...what do we have here?” She angled her head to a considering angle and an appreciative grin crept onto her face.

Cassie scrambled up and tried to grab the stack.

Frieda slid the lot of them out of reach before she could, but angled them so the top picture was in full view. “Who’s this guy? He’s hot.”

Oh. Holy. Hell.

Of all the pictures Frieda absolutely did not need to be looking at right now, it was the one she’d snapped of Kir Vasilek a month ago. “Aunt Frieda, give me that.”

“Why? When a man looks like that, the last thing I need to do is let go. Especially when he’s in a suit, has a mouth that could kiss you stupid and looks like he commands the world with a snap of his fingers. You ask me, suit-wearing men are an endangered species. We should protect them at all costs.”

Lord help her. If Frieda only knew. The man she was advocating protection for was, according to her colleagues, a killer. Too bad Cassie hadn’t known that particular detail before she’d learned he could kiss every bit as good her aunt suspected he could. At least then her libido wouldn’t be at war with her common sense every time her mind went strolling down memory lane—which lately seemed to be too often.

“You’re my aunt. Aunts don’t call men hot. Especially when they’re half their age.”

“Um, this aunt does!” She pulled the picture in for another, closer gander. “And there’s no way he’s half my age. I’m only fifty-six and he’s gotta be at least mid-thirties.”

“He’s thirty-five,” Cassie said, making another grab for the stack and coming away successful.

“See?” Frieda said. “Totally legal. And I betcha he’d appreciate an older woman.” She paused all of a second, watching Cassie stuff the prints back into her portfolio. When she spoke again, there was a whole different glint in her eyes. “Then again, I’m guessing from your reaction, he already appreciated you. Do tell!”

“No way. I’ll tell you a lot of things, but dishing about my sex life isn’t in the cards.” With that, she stood and carried the wide leather-covered book to the dinette.

“Um, hate to tell you this, sugar plum, but I’m the woman who gave you detailed dos and don’ts before you ventured out to buy your first battery-operated boyfriend.”

The pillows shuffled and Frieda’s Keds squeaked against the faux wood floors. While she didn’t make a grab for the portfolio, her aunt did pull out a chair, sit and prop her chin on her hand, clearly ready for all the details. “Now, tell me all about Mr. Hottie and why you felt compelled to keep him a secret.”