Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense) (17 page)

He shrugged and crossed his arms, doing his best to look bored and disinterested. “Tell me what’s got you so worked up.”

“You’ll never believe this.” She actually had the nerve to squeal and do a little victory dance. “Yes, yes, yes!”

The hurt evaporated. This time it was Jordan who trotted Tilly to the couch and pulled her down beside him. “Spill it.”

“Bolzano bought the red zinfandel.” Her words tumbled over each other so fast it took a bit for them to register.

“What?”

“Barrows said he was in the bar downstairs after the first competition. Bolzano came in, distracted, drunk, and more than a little pissed. He bought the red zin and made a lot of noise about Ethridge missin’ the competition. I’ll bet if we go down to the bar and ask them to check their records they’ll find they sold one.” Her voice quivered with excitement. “That’s why it didn’t show up as bein’ ordered or delivered from room service. Bolzano gave it to Ethridge.”

“Why would he do that?” He couldn’t figure out where she was going with her logic.

“I have a theory.”

“I’ll bet you do.” He shook his head in resignation. “It’s not a sin to buy a bottle of wine.”

She held up her hand to quell any other comments until she’d had her say. “Hear me out.” She pulled a notebook and pen out of her purse. “I want to write down any ideas we might have as they come to us. Can you do it? The bandage makes it hard to hold a pen.”

“Okay.” He took the notebook and readied the pen. “Start your dictation, but go slow, I’m lousy at shorthand.”

“No one even knows shorthand nowadays.” She rolled her eyes but settled in by kicking off her shoes and sitting cross-legged on the couch. “Here’s what I think. Bolzano found out about Ethridge’s little tryst with Olivia.” She leaned over to read what he’d put down. “I can’t make out a single word. How am I supposed to read that later on? Better yet, how did you graduate from school with handwritin’ like that?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I knew how to get my way with the teacher.”

“Eww.” Her nose wrinkled as if a bad smell filled the air. “That sounds wrong on so many levels.”

“Matilda, you’re going to have to get over that dirty mind.” He chuckled and shook the notebook. “Back to this theory of yours.”

She gave him a little sniff of disdain, but continued on. “Bolzano must have thought he could get some mileage out of the information. Sure, Olivia would take some heat, but I’ll bet he figured Ethridge couldn’t afford the bad publicity, especially with his new cookbook comin’ out later this month.”

His eyes narrowed in thought as he absent-mindedly clicked the point of the pen in and out. “He decides to get even by spiking the wine. What would he have to gain by that?”

“Revenge—pure and simple. I think he went to see Ethridge, knowin’ the man would laugh him off. He probably injected the date rape drug into the bottle. That’s how the cork got damaged, not when the bottle was opened.” She grabbed the pillow to pick at the fringe. He figured The Culinary Channel would have to replace most of the pillows on the couch by the time the investigation was done.

“You think he wanted to blacken Ethridge’s reputation by making him sick enough to miss the competition?” He scribbled away with a nod. “I can see that. The media would’ve been all over it.” Excitement grew with each word he wrote. A picture began to form, not unlike the times he hashed over plot lines with Hank. She might be on to something. A few of the puzzle pieces didn’t fit, but all it would take was one little clue for everything to fall into place. Her line of reasoning began to make sense. It was a bit out there, but he’d go with it for a while. Still, he decided to play devil’s advocate. “What if he
wasn’t
the one who killed Ethridge?”

“I’m thinkin’ here. Throwin’ out stuff and see what sticks to the wall, kinda like my mamma’s spaghetti.” She pushed the pillow away and sat with her knees drawn up to her chin.

“Your mother threw spaghetti on the wall?” He glanced up from his note-taking. Surely he hadn’t heard right.

She nodded and tilted her head to glance over at him with big, wide, blue eyes. “How else do you know if the noodles are cooked just right?”

“Please tell me you don’t do that.” The gorge rose in his throat. A vision of Tilly flinging half-cooked pasta against the kitchen wall was too much to take. “No, no, no.”

“Not anymore.” She burst out laughing. His horror must have shown on his face. She wiped the tears streaming down her face while she tried to catch her breath. “I’ve learned a lot since Ruby taught me how to cook,” she gasped between giggles. “You should’ve seen her face the first time I did that at the restaurant. Kinda like the look you’re givin’ me now.”

“Who could blame her? That’s disgusting.” He shuddered. It might not be a manly reaction, but the idea of pasta hanging off a kitchen wall offended his sensibilities. “I won’t ask about the sauce.”

“Good.” She slid him a sidelong glance and smiled. “I won’t have to tell you it was nothin’ more than hamburger and ketchup. Ruby calls it Hillbilly Goulash.”

“I’ve could’ve gone all day without that mental image. Blah.” He winced. His tongue stroked the top of his mouth as if trying to rid himself of the imaginary taste of Hillbilly Goulash. “Let’s get back to the wine.”

“Sure, where were we?” She tapped the notebook with her finger. “I thought you were writin’ this down.”

“I got side tracked by Hillbilly Goulash.” He read over the notes with a frown. “You really think the drugged wine had nothing to do with the murder?”

“Right. Here’s how I see it. Bolzano brings it to Ethridge’s room.”

“And he wanted to disable Ethridge so he could kill him.”

The expression on her face was transparent as glass. She didn’t believe for a minute that Bolzano had committed the crime. “Accordin’ to Barrows, he came back to the bar not more than ten minutes later. Remember what the body looked like?” She swung her feet to the floor. “It took longer than ten minutes to do that.”

“Maybe he had some mad knife skills?”

“Come on.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Remember how crowded the hotel was that night? It would take longer than ten minutes to get an elevator, and don’t say he ran up the stairs. It would still take too long. I think he planned for Ethridge to pass out after one or two glasses of wine and get sick enough to miss the competition.”

“You’re right. I don’t think he planned to kill Ethridge, just mess him up.” He tapped the pen against the notebook. He tried to work the clues like a jigsaw puzzle, but nothing fit the facts. Frustration made him lay the notebook on the table and toss the pen down.

“Of course I’m right.” She paced around the room. “And he didn’t hack off Ethridge’s winkie. A woman might. I don’t think he swung that way.” She hugged herself and chewed at her bottom lip.

“Maybe he stumbled onto the killer.” His mind swirled with thoughts. “If Bolzano tried to blackmail the first time, what’s to keep him from doing it again?”

“You’re thinkin’ that he knew who killed Ethridge?”

He got up and stood behind her. “Possibly. It’s the only motive that makes sense.” The light fragrance of her shampoo tickled his nose, made him want her until his whole body became one giant mass of need. She’d made it clear she was confused, but so was he. He decided to take a chance and wrapped his arms around her shoulder, drew her closer until her warmth seeped into his body. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

“You know what we need?” Her words came soft and low, filling him with images of champagne, strawberries, and a boatload of whipped cream. He’d never licked whipped cream from a woman’s body, but he’d be glad to give it a go with Tilly.

“No.” He moved his cheek down to brush against hers, reveling in her scent of vanilla, spice, and woman. The softness of her skin never failed to amaze him. It made him restless in the best possible way. Desire ran in hot little bubbles through his blood. “Tell me.” His lips traveled along the line of her jaw. Yes, whipped cream and champagne bubbles would do just fine.

She nuzzled him and leaned her head back to allow his mouth access to the length of her neck. “A white marker board. I’ll bet the hotel has one stashed away somewhere. We can set up our own timeline and it will be easier to read than that chicken scratchin’ of yours.”

His hazy balloon of desire popped and fizzled. She might as well have been carrying around a chef’s knife of her own and slashing at his lust bubbles. He dropped his hands with a sigh and stepped back to regain his composure.

“Do you still have the photos of the crime scene?”

“They’re in my suite.”

“Let’s go.” She jammed her feet into a pair of dark brown chef’s clogs and slung her purse over her shoulder. A small frown puckered her face when she glanced at her watch. “Time’s a wastin’. We have the conference in less than two hours.”

“What do you think you’re going to find in the pictures?”

“I don’t know yet.” She opened the door and motioned him out into the hall. “There’s somethin’ off about the whole thing. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“You stay here while I run down the hall to my room.” He took her by the shoulder and turned her back into her room with a gentle push. His fingers hooked under the strap of her purse, and he set it on the floor by the couch. “I know you’re going about a hundred miles an hour on your one-track mind. I just hope there’s someone manning the locomotive. Call the concierge for the whiteboard.” He started to leave, then turned back around. “On second thought, let’s do this in my suite.” He picked up her purse and draped it over his shoulder with a flourish before leading Tilly out of her room. “I’ll call for the board when we get there.”

She trotted behind him on the way to his room. “You’re tellin’ me I’m the one goin’ around the bend? I’m gettin’ whiplash from you changin’ your mind on a dime.”

“My suite has more space.” He pulled his key card out of his pocket and twirled it in his fingers. Tilly’s puzzled expression put him in a playful mood. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel so alive and carefree. “There’s actually a small conference table.”

“The Culinary Channel booked you a larger suite?” She sounded miffed.

She had no way of knowing he always booked his own rooms, but Jordan couldn’t help giving her a teasing jab. “Let’s face it. I’m the bigger draw.” Instead of making her laugh, Tilly glared up at him with hot, angry eyes.

“So is a big pile of manure. Flies love it.”

Chapter Fifteen

“You’re arrogant, so we’re even.” She sniffed. “Why do I do things like that?” Her shoulders drooped in shame. He may have hit a nerve with his comments about being the main attraction of the convention, but she shouldn’t have risen to the bait. Her fears and confusion drove her to vent her anger over something as petty as the size of a suite. Every time he did some little thing like kissing the tip of her nose, the alarms went off inside her head. “I’m sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms. “Me, too. I can’t seem to keep from saying things I know drive you crazy. It’s like I’m a kid again. The best way to tell you how I feel is to poke at you like you’re an alien life-form. In case you haven’t noticed, twelve-year-old boys aren’t exactly sophisticated in their dealings with the opposite sex. Frogs and sticks are their weapons of choice in love.”

She melted into him, relishing the warmth of his body, especially after their harsh words. She’d hurt him, but in doing so, it bounced back to slap her in the face. Her heart stung, her breath hitched, close to a sob. “I’ll bet you served up the frog pan-seared with a side of braised winter vegetables.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. It felt good to feel it against her cheek and drove her to snuggle closer. He backed away and tilted her face up to his. “Hey, I think we had our first real fight.”

“We’ve been fighting for years.”

“This is different. We’re a couple now.”

She blinked and her heart skipped around like the Mad Hatter at a tea party. “We are? When did that happen?”

“Right now.” He leaned down, his mouth only a breath away. “Or maybe it was earlier this morning. Do you know how beautiful you are? All I can think about is the way you looked naked in the early morning light.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, traveled down her neck and over her chest to land in a deep clenching need between her legs. No man had ever said she was beautiful, not even the “Slam Bam, Thank you, Ma’am” Jake. “You’re lyin’.” Her whispered words were swallowed up by his kiss. Jordan’s tongue swept over the seam of her mouth. She opened at his unspoken command. Deep, dark, mysterious flavors washed through her the moment his lips took hers. In that moment, he made her feel beautiful.

He broke off the kiss with a groan. “I swear I meant to give you time to get used to the idea, but all I can think about is making love to you.”

“There you go tellin’ fibs again. It’s a scientific fact that men think about sex like a huntin’ dog can’t help thinkin’ about rabbits or squirrels. I don’t care.” She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I must be out of my ever-lovin’ mind, but I want to be with you.” Her fingers traced the nape of his neck and slid through the soft curls that sent little sparks of desire whirling throughout her body. It had been too long, but no man had ever quenched the fire that burned her from the inside out. His touch promised so much. Tyler faded into the distance.

“Part of me wants to go slow, the other wants to rip your clothes off. It’s not fair that you’ve seen me naked.” She couldn’t help trembling at her own boldness. Years of wariness melted away at the touch of his hand.

“I’m more than happy to oblige.” He stepped back and lifted his black T-shirt over his head. His eyebrow rose in question.

“That’s a good start.” Her hand went to the button on the waistband of his jeans. She cursed herself for being so scared and needy. That didn’t stop her trembling fingers from achieving their goal.

He leaned down to take her mouth in a kiss like none she’d ever experienced before. Hot, dark, delicious. If she could make a cupcake that tasted like his kiss, Tilly figured she could hang up her chef’s jacket forever. She couldn’t get enough. Her hand traveled lower to caress the hardness straining against the heavy denim.

In one swift move, he picked her up in his arms. She let out a squeal of surprise. “What are you doin’?” She grabbed him around the neck to keep her balance, making his dark eyes dance with a mixture of laughter and desire.

“I’m playing Rhett Butler to your Scarlet O’Hara.” He gave her another heft and a wink. “Although I don’t have a winding staircase.”

She nibbled along the strong line of his jaw. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

The taste of his skin, the brush of her lips against the slight stubble left her breathless. “Jordan.” His name barely made it past her lips.

“What is it?” Concern and lust burned in his dark eyes, but his smile quelled her fears. “We can stop.”

“Don’t you dare, or there will be another dead chef.” She pulled his head down for another kiss.

He surrendered without a fight. His mouth captured hers, his tongue exploring, tasting as if he’d discovered an exotic dish. Heat swelled, her blood pumped hot and heavy. With one hand, he captured the back of her head while he devoured her.

He placed her on the bed and sat next to her. “Last chance to back out.”

Unable to trust her voice, she shook her head and reached for the hem of her blue sweater.

“That’s no fair.” He stayed her hands and substituted them with his own. “That’s like unwrapping someone’s birthday gift for them.”

Her heart stammered as he inched her sweater higher. She raised her arms, and he gently guided her injured hand through the sleeve.

“Now that was worth the wait.” He bent to place a small kiss on her lips. “I can’t wait for my birthday.”

The brush of his hands against her face sent shivers of anticipation throughout her body. He’d stripped her nerves raw with a simple kiss.

“Matilda Jane Danes.” He amped up his smile until she knew the meaning of burning alive. His hand slid from her face, down her neck and shoulders, to her breasts. His nimble fingers made short work of her bra’s front closure. “I want to taste every inch of you.”

He gave her a gentle push onto the bed. “And I intend to.”

His thumb strummed over her taut nipple. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back a moan of pleasure. He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. The hot, firm suckling burned straight from her breast to her core, leaving a trail of desire in its wake.

One hand slid over her body and down to the button on her jeans. Her awakened flesh trembled. There was no holding back. He sat back, leaving her wanting more.

“No. Don’t stop.”

Her groan of protest made him chuckle.

“I don’t plan to make love to you half dressed.” He slipped the button through the hole and unzipped her jeans. “That’s so high school. You deserve better.”

This time her breath caught at the slide of his fingertips against her stomach. He gripped the edges of her jeans, and she silently acquiesced by lifting her hips for him to slip them down her legs and toss them onto the floor.

“Speakin’ of which, you’ve got on too many clothes, Cap’n Kelly.” She batted her eyelashes at him a la Scarlett O’Hara.

“So I do, Miss Danes.” He drawled and gave her a wink. “So I do.’

“That is the most horrible accent I ever heard.”

He grinned devilishly. “Maybe. But my talented tongue will make up for it.”

She watched him strip down, and the sight of his finely sculpted body fully aroused made her mouth water. She wanted him now.

He settled on the bed next to her.

“Let me take that tongue of yours for a test drive.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled closer until she could feel his hardness pressed against her. “Or was that all talk?”

He arched an eyebrow. “I never exaggerate.”

His hand ran over her breast and rolled her nipple in his fingers, pulling and tugging until she rocked her hips forward in invitation. She ached to be filled, and the emptiness pulled a cry from her. He rose above her with his eyes hot and hungry. The soft warmth of his breath feathered over her abdomen, down to the very center of her swollen flesh. She grew wet and ready with each inch he drew closer to his goal.

His mouth settled over her, and he pushed against the inside of her thighs. “Open for me.”

She did as he requested, exposing herself to his gaze.

“Pretty.” He smiled down at her. “So pretty.”

He dipped his head to stroke the hardened knot of nerves at her center. He hadn’t lied about his talented tongue. It flicked against the hot, aching nub, never letting up, even when he slipped a finger inside her. A second finger followed the first and stoked the fire inside her so high she knew she’d be burnt to ash. The never-ending onslaught sent her over the edge to a place she’d never been. But she’d gladly go there with him.

Her body hungered for his touch.

He sat on his knees and pulled a condom out of the wallet he’d tossed on the end table. His erection was magnificent. She took it in her hand and held the other out for the condom. It was a good thing she hadn’t forgotten how to do this part—like riding a bicycle. He gasped at the first touch of her hand on his cock.

She sank back onto her elbows, watching his face and relishing the wildness in his eyes the moment he thrust into her. He leaned down to take her face in his hands.

“Mine, mine.”

The wild kiss that followed his hoarse words swallowed her whole. The scent of citrus and wood mixed with hot sex drove her to wrap her legs around his and meet each thrust with a roll of her hips.

His growl of pleasure thrilled her.

Jordan grabbed her hips, held them still, and pumped hard and fast. Her body clamped around him, squeezing her inner muscles until he threw back his head and grimaced as if she’d drained him of his soul as well.

“Mine, indeed.” She pulled him down for another kiss.

He gave one last thrust, and she fell into the madness with him.

…

Jordan would be a dead man if his heart didn’t stop slamming so hard against his ribs. He stared up at the ceiling, pulled in a deep breath, and pressed his hand against his chest. “I must be getting old.” He couldn’t remember ever having this reaction to sex before. He glanced over to where she lay beside him. Her expression echoed the way he felt.

She rolled to her side. “What makes you think that?” One finger trailed from the hollow of his throat downward, until she covered his hand with hers. Her touch warmed him, both burned and soothed in its wake.

“This is the first time a woman has come close to giving me a heart attack.” His hand gently raked through the sweat dampened curls surrounding her smiling face. For a second, his confidence slipped.

“Do I need to call 911 for you?” She gave him a lopsided grin.

“No.” He couldn’t resist the temptation in the dimple peeping out at him. He smoothed his thumb over the indentation. “I hope I wasn’t too rough.”

“I don’t have any complaints.” She stretched over him until her mouth brushed against his. “This was a first for me.”

“First?” He smoothed down the wild mop of red curls he’d just mussed. He had to admit that he agreed with Jericho, he liked them much more than her trademark flips.

She glowed.

A blush raced up her neck and over her cheeks. “I’ve never, I mean—oh, Lordy, I’ve never had a—an orgasm. It was amazin’.” She buried her face in his neck. “Why do you think I was yellin’ like a howler monkey? Kinda caught me off guard.”

“You’re kidding.” He couldn’t believe she’d gone through life without ever experiencing an orgasm. She was too passionate, too full of life.

“Nope.” She held up her hand. “I’ll swear on a stack of Julia Child’s cookbooks.”

A wash of possessiveness urged him to pull her closer. A sweet pain settled deep in his heart as he held her tight. Never in his wildest dreams did he think a woman could plant herself in his soul to become as dear as his life. He stroked the velvet-soft skin of her back. “Me too.”

Her soft chuckle vibrated against his chest. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve had an orgasm or two. You don’t get those slow hands without a lot of practice.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His throat tightened. How could he feel like this in such a short time? It was completely different from the nights of scented seduction with Gemma—nothing fake or painted, just this woman in his arms. He swallowed hard against the burning ache. “You make me different…” He struggled for the word. “Whole.” He didn’t know of another way to tell her of the thoughts running through his mind.

“Whole?” She rose on one elbow and looked down at him with a small frown puckering her forehead. “I don’t understand.” Worry lurked in the depths of her blue, blue eyes.

“That makes two of us.” He reached up to smooth the frown away. “This turned into more than an afternoon quickie. You’re too precious for that, Matilda.” His thumb brushed over the sprinkle of freckles on her delicate nose. “I want you like crazy. I’m exhilarated and scared at the same time. It feels more like a plummet over a cliff and I can’t see the bottom. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.” She pulled the sheet to her chest and scooted back against the headboard. Panic flickered in the depths of her eyes. “Stop lookin’ at me that way. This is just what it is—great sex.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” He captured her hand, giving each finger a soft caress. “I’m not good at expressing my feelings.”

She sighed as she tucked the duvet around her legs with slow, careful nonchalance. “Sarah reminded me that I have bad luck with men whose names have a J in them.” She gave him a sad little smile. “I was hopin’ that maybe the third time is the charm.”

“I’m your third?” The disbelief in Jordan’s voice made her frown.

“Well, to be honest, my second and a half. John Jeffries was a minor league baseball player with a gambling habit. The double
J
should’ve clued me in right off the bat. The rat bastard stole my checks, forged my name, and closed out my bank account before he made it to home base with me. Took off with my grandmamma’s jewelry, too.” Her self-deprecating laugh couldn’t keep him from sensing the hurt behind her words. “At least I had fireworks this time around.” She threw back the duvet and swung her feet over the bed in one graceful move before snatching her clothes from the floor. “I need to go back to my room and shower.” She glanced at the clock on the bedside stand. “The press conference is in forty minutes.”