To Catch His Mate

Chapter 2-3

There were any number of high-priced Realtors in Atlanta who owed me favors, and I had just the person to help me. Tildy Habersham knew her stuff and she had some of the highest value penthouse listings in town. She was the kind of salesperson who could sell gasoline to an oil baron. It was always a good idea to watch your back when dealing with her. Still, she was loyal and trustworthy, once you’d proven yourself to her.

“Felix Cotter, as I live and breathe!” Her words dripped with so much honey I almost felt sticky, and the lilt of old world Georgia was stamped on each one. It was all fake, of course, mainly to snag rich, old Southern boys in housing deals. She had charms that I was sure had parted many a man of his pants and anything else she could lay hands on over the years. Once she had tried that with me, but realized quickly where my preferences lay. Nonetheless, she lathered the flirtation on me anyway. It was just her way. Blanche Devereaux had nothing on my flirtatious friend.

“Tildy, sweetheart! As gorgeous as ever!” I wasn’t lying. She had a face and body that got even my attention. But that was all.

“Still pitching for the other team?” She tried every time, just for the hell of it.

I smiled as I put an arm around her waist to draw her to my side. “Tildy, if I were straight, you would have been the one for me.”

She grabbed my balls and squeezed. “Can’t blame a dame for tryin’.” Tildy kissed my cheek and let go of my precious jewels—thankfully. “Now what brings your fine self out to see me on this lovely day?” Tildy had been in the people business too long not to see through masked intentions.

“I need a favor, if you can manage it.”

She brushed imaginary lint from my dress shirt. “You name it! You’ve saved my fine rear-end more than once.”

I smiled at her. “I need to borrow one of your high-rise properties―preferably a penthouse.”

“Borrow? Why do you want to borrow a penthouse, darling?” Her accent moved northward when matters of business were being discussed.

I became serious. “I need it as bait.”

I could almost feel her response before she gave it. “Bait! What on God’s green earth does that mean?”

I told her the details of the burglar’s methods. She got excited when I mentioned wanting to set a trap using a high-priced property for a fake client. It appealed to her mischievous streak.

Tildy thought for a minute. “I’m not entirely sure what I…I’ve got it!” She snapped her fingers. “I’ll have to call him in Europe, but I’m watching a property—a penthouse—for an artist on sabbatical in Italy. It’s fully furnished so it’ll look lived-in. That’d be perfect for what you need, right?”

I smiled and nodded. Tildy kept going, as if she were planning a birthday party. “I’m sure I can talk the owner into it. He’s a horny little thing!” The glimmer in her eye told tales. “Give me a day or two.”

Knowing Tildy’s track record, I had little doubt that I had succeeded with this part of the honey pot. With all my plans set in motion, it was time to call Uncle Ben.