Burned to a Crisp (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 3)

by Catherine Bruns

  Mike, who'd been eating and listening without comment, wiped his mouth with a napkin. "He probably thought you were cute."

  My sister narrowed her eyes. "Cute? I am an attorney. I am not cute."

  Mike smiled but wisely said nothing. Like the rest of the family, he knew when Gianna was in one of her moods.

  "You look exhausted," I said. "You've been working way too hard."

  She sipped at her wine and then squeezed my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a snot. This is your party, and I'm doing a great job of trying to ruin it."

  "Forget about that. All I want to know is that you're okay."

  Josie came up behind us and put a hand on each of our shoulders. "Hey, Gi, there's a guy out in the hallway looking for you. He said his name is Bernardo. Isn't that your client?"

  Gianna's face paled, and she hurriedly rose to her feet. "Crap. I told him I was coming here tonight. Did he say what he wanted?"

  Josie shook her head. "He asked if you were in here and said he didn't want to come barging in. He seemed polite enough and is very good looking—for an older man."

  I laughed. "Bernardo's only about forty, Jos. Not exactly ancient."

  She made a face. "Oh, whatever." She turned back to Gianna. "Anyhow, he said it was urgent that he talk to you."

  Gianna muttered under her breath. "Great. I wonder what's going on now." Her hands shook as she grabbed her purse off the back of the chair.

  I placed a hand on her arm. "Are you sure you're okay? Let me go with you to meet him."

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sal, but I know he'll want to go somewhere and talk. I may not make it back in time. Will you forgive me?"

  I kissed her cheek. "As long as you don't do this at the wedding, I'm good."

  "I'll call you later." She glanced toward the other side of the room where my mother and father were deep in discussion with Grandma Rosa and a friend. "Tell Mom and Dad I had to leave. If I go over there to say good-bye, they'll never let me out of their grasp."

  "I'll save you a piece of cake and bring it to the bakery tomorrow."

  "You'd better." She grinned then made her way over to the double doors.

  When I'd moved in with Mike this past January, I'd rented Gianna my old apartment over the bakery. She was thrilled to be out on her own. My parents' house resembled a zoo in many ways, and Gianna desperately needed her private space.

  I watched her graceful figure disappear behind the doors and caught a glimpse of Bernardo waiting on the other side for her. Bernardo had sultry Italian good looks—black, wavy hair, piercing brown eyes, and an olive complexion, slightly darker than my own. Something about him screamed wolf and left me concerned for Gianna's welfare. I saw his smile widen as she approached, and then the doors closed, cutting off my line of vision.

  Loud giggles distracted me. I turned my head in time to see my mother and father kissing and winced. Mom was obsessed with my upcoming wedding, and I was afraid it had as much to do with Gianna as myself. She'd confided to me last week, after my sister's recent breakup, that she was afraid beautiful and brilliant Gianna, who would turn a ripe old twenty-six next month, was destined to become a spinster. I'd had a difficult time not rolling my eyes.

  I noticed Johnny holding the door open for his grandmother. His eyes met mine, and he smiled and waved at both Mike and me, then followed her out. It seemed odd that they were leaving so early, but Mrs. G. did look exhausted. Harassing people for a living had to be tiring work.

  Mike ran a finger down the side of my face. "Everything okay?"

  "I'm worried about Gianna," I said. "She hasn't been the same since this case started."

  "Do you want me to go check on them?" Mike asked. "I can't say that I trusted the looks of Mr. Mafia there."

  "She'd be furious if you did. I'm sure she can handle him. He probably just wants to talk about the case." At least I hoped so.

  I wondered if Gianna was allowed to tell Bernardo she didn't want to represent him again. I had a feeling he was enamored with her—as most men were. All Gianna had ever wanted was for people to take her seriously. Unfortunately, they seemed to be more focused on her beauty than brains, and it drove her crazy.

  Someone touched my arm from behind. Grandma Rosa sat in Gianna's discarded chair and placed a small white box on my lap. "Happy birthday, cara mia."

  Next to Mike, Grandma Rosa was the other love of my life. She had come to live with her daughter and son-in-law when my grandfather passed away, shortly after Gianna's birth. She was an excellent cook, made the world's best ricotta cheesecake, and her sound advice never failed. Growing up, she was the one person Gianna and I would run to with our problems. My grandmother had never been too busy to listen or lend a shoulder for us to cry on, which had been quite often.

  "You didn't have to do anything." I removed the top of the box and revealed an ancient silver cameo brooch set with a glittering blue topaz stone in the center. My breath caught. As a little girl I had loved playing dress up with Josie and Gianna. Grandma Rosa sometimes allowed us to play with her costume jewelry, but this prized piece had always been off-limits no matter how much I'd begged and pleaded.

  A lump formed in my throat as I stared into her brown eyes and the wrinkles that formed around them when she smiled. Grandma always said that they were lines that came from wisdom, not age.

  "I can't take this. Grandpa gave it to you when you got married."

  She shook her head. "No. He did not like to buy me jewelry. He did once give me a ring from a Cracker Joe box, though."

  I laughed. "It's Cracker Jack." I fingered the brooch, intrigued. "Who gave it to you, then?"

  She waved a hand dismissively. "That is a talk for another time. I insist you take the brooch. Why do you think I did not want you to play with it when you were a little girl? Because I knew someday it would belong to you. It is not only a birthday present. You will wear it at your wedding as well. You know the saying 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue'? Well, right here you have the old and the blue. You can borrow the pearl necklace I gave your mother at her wedding. That will look beautiful with the new gown."

  I blinked rapidly, but the tears came anyway. I reached out and wrapped my arms around her while she laughed and patted my back. "You are a good girl, my Sally. I did not give the brooch to you for your first marriage because I knew it would not last." She released me and nodded toward Mike, who watched us with affection. "This one—it will be different."

  Mike's hand tightened around mine.

  "Thank you," I whispered, too choked up to say anything else.

  "Guess what, honey?" My mother squealed from behind me. "Look what we have for dessert? I had the restaurant order them special!" She held out a tray of homemade chocolate fortune cookies.

  Ugh. I caught Josie watching us from across the room, amused. Okay, I was probably being silly. Just because the fortune cookies we used in the shop sometimes had an uncanny way of predicting the future didn't mean that these would have the same effect, right?

  "Come on, Sal. They won't bite." Mike handed me a cookie and then whispered in my ear. "Leave that part to me later."

  It suddenly grew warm in the room. "We are so leaving after this." I broke the cookie apart and stared down at the strip of paper.

  Things will heat up for you tonight.

  Mike studied the message with interest, and a broad smile broke out across his face. "Damn. How did it know what I was thinking?"

  CHAPTER THREE

  About an hour later we were in Mike's Ram truck, headed back to his house—or our home, as Mike had always referred to it since I'd moved in. He lifted my hand to his lips. "Happy, baby?"

  I gazed into those deep-set blue eyes that I adored so much. "More than I ever thought I could be."

  It hadn't always been clear sailing for Mike and me. I'd first met him at the age of fifteen, when his family moved into town. Mike's stepfather had been a construction worker who taught Mike the trade—wh
en he wasn't smacking him around, that is. The first time I'd spotted him during my sophomore year, I had been a goner. The feeling was apparently mutual, and within two weeks he'd asked me to a school dance.

  We'd quickly become everything to each other, but Mike had been insecure and insanely jealous of every male I'd talked to back then. When I'd spotted him in the backseat of Brenda Snyder's car—aka Backseat Brenda—on the night of our senior prom, that had been more than enough for me to call it quits. On the rebound, I'd hooked up with Colin Brown and later married him. I had only discovered last year that nothing had even happened between Mike and Brenda that night. He'd tried in vain back then to tell me the truth, but I had refused to listen.

  It had taken me several months to stop dwelling on the fact that we'd lost ten precious years together. Instead, I now looked ahead—to an entire lifetime of love with this man.

  Mike came around to my side of the truck to help me out and took the box full of gifts and envelopes I'd received from my guests. I made a mental note to write thank-you notes tomorrow. He placed the box on the porch while he opened the front door, silenced the alarm system, and then stepped back for me to enter first.

  Spike, our black and white Shih Tzu, greeted us at the door. He looked at both of us and wagged his tail hopefully. He wanted to go for a walk.

  Mike addressed the dog as he placed the box down on the coffee table and scooped me up in his arms. "Sorry, buddy. You're gonna have to wait a little while. I've got to heat things up like the fortune cookie said."

  I giggled and kissed Mike's neck while he carried me down the hallway. After he laid me on the bed, I removed my phone from the pocket of my slacks. "Maybe I should call Gianna first and see how she is."

  Mike reached for the phone and placed it on the nightstand. "Later. We need to follow the protocol of that cookie first."

  I unbuttoned his dress shirt, a light blue that brought out his eyes so well. "You're taking that message very seriously, Mr. Donovan."

  He grinned. "Well, my wife-to-be seems to regard those words very highly, so it's my job to make them come true."

  He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed me. His mouth was hot and tender, and desire spread through my body.

  "We are so lucky," I whispered.

  The musical notes on my phone sounded.

  Mike removed his mouth from the path he was making down my neck and looked at the offending phone with disdain. "Someone has lousy timing."

  I tried to reach my phone but couldn't with Mike on top of me. "Please, honey, see who it is. What if it's about Dad? He had three pieces of cake tonight."

  Mike sighed and rolled off me to grab the phone. He studied the screen, and a look of utter irritation spread over his face. "What the hell."

  I sat up, worried. "Is it Mom?"

  He held the phone out so I could see the name on the screen. "It's Jenkins. Your not-so-secret admirer. Why is he calling you?"

  Brian Jenkins was a cop in Colwestern with dirty blond hair and a handsome Greek godlike profile. We'd first met last September, when a former nemesis of mine had dropped dead on the front porch of my bakery. We'd become fast friends and almost something else.

  "Press Ignore," I said.

  "Gladly," he muttered. He tossed the phone back on the nightstand then blew out a long breath. "Sorry. That guy still gets under my skin. He just won't go away."

  In fact, Brian had recently been in my bakery. Last week he'd mentioned something about a fellow police officer who wanted to place an order for their son's upcoming graduation party. Well, if that was why he was calling, it could wait until tomorrow.

  I ran a finger over Mike's lips. Brian and Mike had both asked me out on a date for the same evening when I'd first returned to Colwestern, and I'd been forced into a decision I wasn't sure I was ready to make, or even wanted to, so soon after my divorce. It hadn't taken me long to realize I'd never stopped loving Mike. "I hope you know that I haven't been encouraging him in any way. And he's well aware that we're getting married."

  Mike made a face. "I know, baby. But I hate the way that cop looks at you—like you're a dozen doughnuts."

  I burst out laughing and ran my hands down his smooth, muscular chest. "Don't get your feathers all ruffled, Mr. Tough Guy. You know who my heart belongs to."

  He lay down next to me and kissed me, tracing his fingers lightly down my stomach. "No offense, Sal, but I've got other parts of your body on my mind right now."

  I giggled as his tongue probed my mouth open. In a second I had forgotten all about Brian, my crazy parents, and even Gianna. I closed my eyes and thought of nothing but my fiancé and sharing this intimate moment with him.

  "I wish we could stay like this forever," I whispered.

  His eyes were dark and passionate as they gazed into mine. "We will, if I have anything to say about it."

  Spike barked, and a loud banging on our front door commenced.

  Mike swore softly. "I don't believe this. It's a little late for visitors. Whoever's at that door is going to be sorry that they stopped by."

  "Jeez, don't say things like that." I shivered, superstition getting the best of me again.

  He shrugged on his shirt. "Don't go anywhere." He stared at me hungrily, and my entire body tingled from the look. "I want to keep this picture of you in my head. Give me one minute to get rid of whoever the hell's out there."

  I took the opportunity to roll over and check my phone to see if Gianna had texted. There were no messages from her. She'd probably gone to bed right after her meeting with Bernardo. My heart ached for what she was going through. How lousy was it to have your first case end in a mistrial because a juror was hitting on you?

  At that moment I heard Mike's voice, loud and angry about something. I put the phone down and listened.

  "Jenkins, when are you going to take a hint?"

  "Sally!" I heard Brian's voice yell. "You need to get out here! The bakery is on fire!"

  He didn't mean my bakery, did he? There had to be some type of mistake. Panic ensued, and I jumped off the bed and threw my blouse on, adrenaline flowing through my body. I buttoned my shirt as I ran down the hall. I met Mike halfway, coming to get me. He had his truck keys in hand and pulled me toward the front door. Brian followed us, dressed in his dark blue uniform. He closed the front door behind us.

  I clutched Brian's arm when I got to the side of Mike's truck. "What happened? Where's Gianna?"

  He stared back at me with concerned green eyes. "I don't know anything else. A passerby noticed flames shooting out of the back room of the bakery and called 9-1-1. The fire department was there within minutes. I heard the dispatch over my radio and recognized the address. Which was why I tried to phone you." Brian stared accusingly at Mike, as if suspecting he was the reason I hadn't answered the call.

  Mike shouted from behind the wheel. "Sal, let's go!"

  "Come on!" Brian practically pushed me into the truck and slammed the door when I was inside. "I'll follow you guys over."

  The ten-minute ride to the bakery was perhaps the longest of my life. Somehow I had managed to call Josie, who'd been sound asleep, and told her what had transpired. She'd started crying and said she'd be there as soon as she could find a babysitter. I'd also dialed Gianna's cell over and over but got no answer.

  Mike was quiet during the ride but held my hand tightly. I chided myself in silence. Why hadn't I let him answer the phone? Who would have thought that was the reason Brian had been trying to call me? Never mind. It wouldn't have changed anything. I had more important things to worry about now, such as where my sister was. Fear gripped me tighter than a lover's arms and wouldn't let go.

  I was afraid I was going to be sick to my stomach. I prayed over and over that Gianna wasn't inside the building. Maybe she and Bernardo had gone for drinks somewhere. She still wasn't answering her phone. Perhaps she'd stopped to see my parents. Oh my God. My parents! I needed to call them.

  Mike was forced to stop for a red light a
nd faced me. "She's fine, Sal. Don't do this to yourself."

  My response, of course, was to burst into tears.

  Even from the next street over, we could see the strobe lights from the fire truck and hear the activity. Mike was forced to park the vehicle about halfway down the street. Before he could even put the truck in park, I had the door open and started to run toward the shop.

  "Sal!" He yelled after me.

  I stopped suddenly, mesmerized. The sight that met my eyes both terrified and froze me in place. I'd never seen a fire up close before. Several firefighters surrounded the building with hoses that twitched in the air like snakes in the night sky. Water gushed forward from them in all directions. A couple of men moved quickly back and forth, carrying tools and shouting commands. The smell of smoke filled my nostrils. I hesitated, not sure what to do next. Then I spotted an EMS ambulance, and my heart filled with sickening dread as it dropped into my stomach.

  My sister could be inside the building.

  I ran across the lawn toward the bakery at full speed. A policeman was near the entrance, shouting something into his radio, and caught me by the arm.

  "Ma'am, you need to get back across the street."

  "It's my bakery!" I screamed. "My sister lives upstairs. I've got to see that she's okay."

  Someone from behind me touched my shoulder. I assumed it was Mike and, without thinking, turned and threw my arms around his waist, sobbing into his chest. "I need to know she's all right. I have to get in there. Please tell them, babe."

  After an awkward silence, a hand patted my back softly. I looked up and found myself staring into Brian's shining green eyes flecked with gold. Mike stood beside him. He said nothing, but his face hardened as if it was carved out of stone.

  This definitely was going down as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I struggled for composure and inched away from Brian. "I'm sorry. I—I thought you were Mike."

  Neither man said anything as Mike reached out and pulled me into his arms. To his credit, he didn't fly off the handle. Ten years ago, he would have punched Brian in the face first and asked questions later. Now he cradled my face between his hands. "I just called your parents' house. Your grandmother answered the phone. They'll be here soon."