She stared at the glove box. What would Ted do in this situation? Her perfect ex-fiancé never did anything even remotely sneaky, so she conjured up Meg instead and flipped open the latch.

She half expected to see a loaded gun or, at the very least, a box of condoms and an abandoned red thong. Instead she found an owner’s manual, a tire pressure gauge, and an Illinois vehicle registration made out to one Patrick Shade, resident of Cook County, with an address on Chicago’s Lake Shore Drive.

She carried her new plants to the porch and entered her bedroom through the sliding doors, then hid the sack with the Evil Queen’s muffin under her bathroom sink. Temple could figure out for herself how to get her contraband. After giving the bread a quick second knead, she shaped the loaves, set them in a pair of pans for a final rise, and tucked them back in the cupboard. Then she went down to the dock and took out the kayak. Panda wouldn’t let Temple on the water by herself, and a second kayak had been delivered.

When she got back, Temple and Panda were sitting at the monstrously oversize kitchen table eating a lunch that couldn’t have been all that much better than a colon cleanse. Their matching dinner plates held sparse portions from the frozen meal containers sitting on the counter. Panda pushed a morsel of dry salmon around with his fork. A lemon wedge floated in the glass of water Temple lifted to her lips. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin she’d unearthed from somewhere. “I think it’s important for food to look appealing,” she said.

“Nothing can look appealing when you’re eating it on Panda’s puke-green table,” Lucy retorted.

“The table stays,” he said.

“Your loss.” She went to her bedroom and returned with the sack of Temple’s legitimate purchases. Panda snatched it away before Temple could touch it. He rooted around inside and, after satisfying himself that it held only magazines and nail clippers—none of the banned substances hidden under Lucy’s sink—he handed it to his client.

The Evil Queen turned her imperious eyes on him. “Really, Panda … Don’t you think that’s a bit insulting to Lucy?”

“Could be. Don’t care.”

Lucy snorted.

Temple set the sack aside. “Honestly, why don’t the two of you just go to bed together and get it over with?”

Panda’s forkful of mushy broccoli stalled in midair. Lucy nearly choked. Panda recovered first. “You’re way off base.”

“Am I?” Temple propped her bent elbow on the table and tapped her chin with her fingers. “I’ve made a successful career out of reading people, and the chemistry between you two is hot enough to be embarrassing.”