by Tina Kashian
He turned back to her. “Of course.”
“You were here the day the health inspector died.” She knew Detective Clemmons had already questioned Big Al. Clemmons had told her when he’d interviewed her at the police station.
“I was. I made a delivery and stayed longer than I planned. I ended up talking to Azad in the kitchen.”
She remembered. She’d also felt annoyed that everyone knew everyone in town, especially in the restaurant business. “Did you know Heather?”
“No. She had never been in a restaurant when I happened to make a delivery.”
It made sense. Al delivered to restaurants throughout the Jersey shore, not just Ocean Crest. He didn’t own a restaurant and, as such, he had no reason to deal with Heather in her capacity as a local health inspector. His statement confirmed what Detective Clemmons had already told her. Big Al had no connection to Heather.
Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask him additional questions about that day.
“Did you see anything unusual when you were here?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I would have told the police if I had. I’m sorry, Lucy. I’ve known your parents since they opened this place. I consider them family. I hope everything works out.”
“Thanks. So do I.”
* * *
After Big Al left, Lucy worked side by side with her mother until Cooking Kurt’s show had long ended and almost all of the twenty ordered baklava trays were finished. She felt like she’d buttered endless layer after layer of phyllo dough sheets, spread the finely chopped walnuts, cinnamon, and sugar mixture between the layers, then buttered everything all over again. Her back hurt from bending over the prep table, her shoulders were stiff, and her feet ached. She marveled at her mother’s stamina.
Lucy rubbed a knot in her lower back. “How do you do this day after day, Mom?”
“Now you see why your father and I want to retire,” Angela said, placing a tray from the oven onto a cooling rack.
“I just can’t imagine you selling the place. It makes me sad.”
“We never wanted to sell. It’s a good living. We wanted you to take it over with Azad by your side.”
There it was again—the not so subtle request for her to marry Azad, pop out half a dozen kids, and raise them to take over the family business. Why on earth did she have to be the one to keep everything together? They still didn’t pressure Emma, even though she was older. Whether it was because Lucy had attended law school or because she was never boy obsessed like Emma, she didn’t know.
Lucy’s voice was hoarse with frustration. “You know he was the one who broke it off with me.”
Her mother huffed. “That was years ago. He’s changed. Matured. I still want him for you. Spending all your child-bearing years laboring at that law firm is a waste. You’re not getting any younger and I want more grandchildren.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. They had spent a pleasant and productive morning together, and she was determined not to argue. “You should be pressuring Emma and Max to have more kids.”
“I’m hopeful that Niari will have a sibling soon. But you,” she said, pointing a buttered pastry brush at Lucy, “need a little push.”
A mischievous gleam in her mother’s eye made Lucy nervous. In the past that look usually meant meddling or matchmaking was soon to follow.
Taking a step closer, Lucy plucked the raised pastry brush from her mother’s hand. “What do you mean by a little push?”
Angela averted her gaze. “Nothing to worry about.”
The scrape of footsteps behind Lucy made the hair on her nape stand on end.
“Hello, ladies.”
At the sound of the familiar masculine voice, Lucy whirled to see Azad walk into the kitchen.
“Azad! What a wonderful surprise,” Angela said in a tone that suggested she was anything but surprised.
Azad halted. “You left a message on my cell phone that you needed help, Mrs. Berberian.”
Lucy shot her mother a withering gaze that her parent completely ignored. Nothing to worry about. Who was she kidding? Her mom knew she would be helping her with the catering order this morning, and she’d purposely asked Azad to come at the same time.
Azad turned to Lucy and smiled. “You look good in the kitchen.”
Lucy felt her face redden and struggled with the urge to smooth her hair and strip off her butter-stained apron. She was highly conscious that she wasn’t wearing a speck of makeup and her army-green T-shirt was the most unflattering item in her wardrobe.
“What can I help you with?” he asked.
Angela washed and dried her hands, then smoothed her beehive. “A large catering order. I also need help loading our truck and delivering the food.”
“No problem. I’ll help load the truck,” Azad offered.
“What would we do without you?” Angela said, then shot Lucy a pointed look. “Do you mind helping Lucy finish the baklava? I want to feed Gadoo out back, and then I have paperwork to do in the office.”
“Sure.” He reached for a clean apron on the row of hooks on the wall and tied it behind him.
Lucy gaped at her mother’s back as Angela hurried out of the kitchen and toward the office. Could she be more obvious?
“She’s not very subtle, is she?” Azad said.
Lucy turned to him. “No kidding. What are you doing helping my parents anyway? You don’t work here anymore.”
“Not officially, but I told you that I never stopped coming by. I also have today off from work. My mom and dad have been gone a long time and yours are like my adoptive parents. Always have been.”
“Fine,” she said, her voice tense.
Azad placed a hand on his chest. “And I thought we were getting along nicely at the coffee shop the other day.”
“We did, but let’s just think of this as a work day, okay?” She picked up her pastry brush and started dabbing globs of butter on a sheet of phyllo.
His lips curled in a smile. “Easy there. You don’t want to tear the dough. It’s fragile.”
Lucy watched him out of the corner of her eye as he worked. If she was thinking straight, she would have found the sight of him in one of her mother’s aprons funny since it was too short and too tight for his muscular frame. Instead, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He had an easy, confident way about him, and there was definitely something sexy about a competent male in the kitchen. It was clear Azad was in his element, and she could see why he’d gone to culinary school.
For the first time, Lucy understood her mother’s fascination for the hot celebrity chef. Azad’s muscles bunched beneath his shirt as he lifted hot trays from the oven, and she had to turn away. Last thing she wanted was to get caught gaping at him like a horny high school girl.
“I still can’t believe you want to buy this place,” she muttered.
“Why? Just because you don’t want it doesn’t mean it’s worthless.”
Lucy glared at him. “That’s not fair.”
The thought of her parents selling Kebab Kitchen to Azad, or Mr. Citteroni, or anyone, made Lucy’s nerves tense. It seemed so wrong. For as long as she could remember, her father had said the place was in their blood. She’d never understood until now.
Why after all these years? Why after a murder in the parking lot? Why did she finally understand what her father meant?
It was in her blood. And she’d be sad to let it go.
But was she sad enough to stay?
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve been gone a long time. I never thought you’d come back for good,” Azad said.
Lucy blinked. “I never said I’m back for good.”
He hesitated, his expressive eyes traveling over her face. “Well, it’s good to have you even for an extended visit. You may decide you want to stay.”
Her breath caught and her pulse quickened. She didn’t want to think about how he would convince her.
Her grip on the pastry brush tightened, then she gasped as a pa
inful cramp pierced her hand. “Ouch!” Lucy dropped the brush. Melted butter splattered on her apron.
Azad’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
She cradled her hand. “Nothing serious. Just a cramp from too much buttering.”
“Let me see.”
“No, I don’t think—”
Azad ignored her protests and took her hand in his larger one. His thumb pressed gently in the center of her palm and started massaging the tight, cramped muscles.
Ah. The painful ache subsided, and she glanced at him through lowered lashes. They were standing close, too close, and she felt the heat from his body. An unwanted tingling began in the pit of her stomach.
Careful Lucy! her inner voice warned. You’re growing weaker by the second.
He kept massaging her hand, and the tingling traveled up her arm.
“Do you think there’s a chance we can start over?” His voice was low, husky. He was still cradling her hand in his.
“Why the interest?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I like you.”
“Do you? Or are you simply looking for an easier way to get your hands on the restaurant?” She nearly recoiled at the bitterness in her voice. Now where did that come from? She didn’t really believe he would stoop so low, did she?
A flicker of anger crossed Azad’s face, and he dropped her hand. His tone was clipped. “I would hope you know me better than that.”
She studied his features. She’d known him half her life. He may have broken her heart when he ended their relationship without providing the closure she’d desperately needed, but that had been ten years ago. A person could change a lot in ten years.
She’d changed, hadn’t she?
Her heart skipped a beat at the heated look in his eyes. The irony was not lost on her that she would have given anything to see that interest years ago.
Uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny, she walked away. “We need more butter.” She headed for the walk-in refrigerator. Pulling open the insulated stainless steel door, she stepped inside and flipped on the light.
Azad was right on her heels. “Hey. Don’t run away.”
“I’m not running,” she fibbed. “I’m looking for butter.” She scanned the wire metal shelves and tried to remember where the butter was stored. It was a cool forty degrees, just like any refrigerator except this one was a large room with tall shelves on each side holding everything from eggs to milk to meat to homemade bread and rice pudding. The door automatically closed behind them to save energy, but the florescent lights kept the room well-lit. For safety reasons the door didn’t lock, and there was no handle on the inside. Kitchen staff with full armloads of cold food could easily push the door open with a hip or foot to exit the refrigerated room.
“It’s right here,” Azad said, brushing her arm as he reached up to the second shelf to pull down a tub of butter.
“Thanks.” Lucy trailed Azad as he made his way to the door.
He pushed the door with his side. It wouldn’t budge. He tried again. Nothing. “What the heck?”
“Let me try.” Lucy pushed, then really pushed. The door stayed closed.
Lucy banged on the door with a fist and called out. Her mom had purposely left them alone in her matchmaking efforts and was probably in the office. She wouldn’t hear anything until she decided to wander back out.
Azad placed the tub on a nearby shelf. “Looks like we’re stuck in here until someone comes along.”
Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Her T-shirt and thin slacks weren’t sufficient to stay warm for long. The space was frigid. Her stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. “What are we going to do?”
“Don’t panic. We just have to wait it out.”
She rubbed her arms. “Wait it out? We’re going to slowly freeze.”
His lips curled in a grin. “No, we won’t.” He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her.
She sucked in a breath and inhaled the scent of soap and the sweetness of pastry. Her head spun, and a different type of panic traveled down her spine. “What are you doing?”
“You’re cold. We have to share body heat until we’re found.”
Body heat!
He cocked his head to the side, his smooth olive skin stretching over his cheekbones. “It’s scientifically proven.”
She glared at him, but held her tongue. She was cold and soon would be freezing. “I’m beginning to think you did this on purpose.”
His lips parted in a display of straight, white teeth. “Impossible. The door is jammed from the outside. But if I could have figured out a way to lock us in together, I may have done it.”
She laughed. “You’re outrageous.”
“I prefer charming.” He began to rub her back, causing her nerves to tingle. It felt good.
She looked up at him. Fluorescent light glimmered over his handsome face. She felt a stab of guilt that she’d considered him a suspect. Her gut told her he couldn’t kill anyone, even for monetary gain. Or was her brain chilled and her traitorous body influencing her judgment?
“Do you think someone intentionally locked us in here?” Lucy asked.
“No. Something must have fallen and blocked the door. That’s all.”
Maybe it was the murderer. Maybe he found out she was investigating on her own and was trying to turn her into a Popsicle to stop her efforts.
“Relax,” Azad said. “Your heart is racing. You need to conserve your energy to stay warm.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Think of something else.”
“Like what?”
“I can think of something pleasant to distract you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand come up to cup her cheek. His palm was blessedly warm, and she fought every instinct roaring to life not to lean into his touch. He inched closer, his eyes pinned to hers as his lips slowly descended.
Her heart leaped. He’s going to kiss me!
His breath fanned her cheek, then his lips lowered another inch.
“Lucy!”
They jumped apart just as scraping sounded outside the door.
Lucy flew to the door and pounded on the stainless steel. “We’re stuck in here!”
Seconds later, the door swung open.
Her mother stood there with a confused expression and a broom in her right hand. “What happened?”
Lucy and Azad hurried out of the walk-in refrigerator. The warmth from the kitchen ovens felt like a blast furnace on her face.
“We were locked inside,” Lucy said.
“This broom was wedged against the door handle and the drain pipe. It must have fallen,” Angela said.
“Thankfully you found us, Mrs. Berberian.” Unlike Lucy, Azad looked perfectly composed. His complexion wasn’t red.
Lucy suspected hers was, first from the cold, then from the rush of heat when he’d come close to kissing her. And she would have allowed it. Correction. She had wanted it.
Angela’s shrewd eyes traveled from Lucy to Azad, then back to Lucy. “You two got along well in there?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Mom. I’m too cold to argue with you.” Lucy plucked the broom from her mother’s hand, then studied the drain pipe and the refrigerator’s handle. Was it possible? If the broom was leaning against the wall, could it have fallen and become wedged between the pipe and the refrigerator’s handle?
Or had someone sneaked inside the restaurant’s back door with the intention of foul play?
* * *
It was late-morning by the time all the baklava trays were finished and they’d cleaned up. Lucy slipped out while Azad was loading the truck under her mother’s supervision. She knew it was cowardly not to say good-bye, but she was confused by her feelings. She still couldn’t believe how close she had come to letting him kiss her.
Thank goodness she’d parked out front and not in the back next to the restaurant’s catering van. Her mom couldn’t attempt any more matchmaking. Gadoo sauntered up to h
er as she hurried to her car. He stopped in front of her, looked up, and gave her a look that said coward, before continuing around the corner.
“Thanks for that,” Lucy mumbled beneath her breath as she shut the door of her Toyota. She settled in the driver’s seat, then noticed a flyer tucked beneath her windshield wiper. She disliked the abundance of paper advertisements on car windshields that ended up littering the beach. She opened the door and reached across the windshield to grasp the ad and crumple it in a ball when the top line of print caught her eye.
NY TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR PAUL EVANS BOOK SIGNING
She quickly read the rest of the flyer. Paul was having a book signing for his latest suspense novel, Killer Status, at Pages Bookstore. Lucy checked the date.
Today.
Her mind whirled. Paul was promoting his new book? Shouldn’t he have canceled the book signing, only days since his girlfriend had died?
She looked at the advertised time. Twelve noon. It was only eleven-thirty. If she hurried, she could make it.
CHAPTER 14
Lucy rushed back to Katie’s from the restaurant to change and ran into her friend who was arriving home for her lunch break.
Lucy held up the book signing flyer and quickly explained where she was going.
“I want to come with you,” Katie said, folding her arms across her chest.
“I want you to, but it’s Wednesday. Don’t you have to return to work?” Lucy asked.
“I’m on my lunch break. If I run late, I can stay late and make up time.”
It only took a minute for Katie to convince Lucy. “It’s best if we can observe Paul before he recognizes us,” Lucy said.
“He’s a big draw. The bookstore will probably be busy and he won’t see us.”
Lucy tapped her foot as she thought. “Still, I think we should try to disguise ourselves.”
“Okay. I’m in. What are you thinking?” Katie asked.
After a quick debate, they settled on something fast and easy—an Eagles cap and wraparound sunglasses for Lucy, and a wide-brimmed sun hat and vintage Jackie O-style specs for Katie. Lucy drove to Pages Bookstore, and they parked and hurried inside.
Pages Bookstore was a quaint establishment nestled between Cutie’s Cupcakes and Magic’s Family Apothecary. The cozy bookstore took advantage of every inch of space. Wall-to-wall shelves were crammed with books, magazines, and DVDs for its customers’ reading and viewing pleasure. The owner of the store, Candace Kent, was an attractive young widow with tortoise-shell glasses and blond hair pulled back in a tight bun.