Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense)

by Dyann Love Barr

  “A cup of tea and a pair of pajamas.” She rose from the sofa and went to the drawers in a built-in dresser. “The tea I can order from room service, but I’m goin’ to need help with the pajamas.”

  He watched as she pulled out a pair of purple Hello Kitty pajamas. “Hello Kitty?”

  “Sarah’s idea of the perfect Mother’s Day gift. You’d think a fourteen-year-old girl would be over Hello Kitty.” She held the pajamas up for his inspection. The top said Kiss Me.

  “You really wear those?”

  “Duh, yeah.” She gave them a little shake. “My daughter would be devastated if I didn’t. Wait until you have kids. Then you’ll understand.” She sighed. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

  “Name it.”

  “Unhook my bra?”

  His mouth went dry. Surely he hadn’t heard her right. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” The thought of freeing those lush breasts from the confines of her bra, to know they were bouncing around unfettered under the white Kiss Me T-shirt made his dick stand up and take notice.

  “Okay, you’ve got a point, especially after that kiss.” Her soft sigh tugged at him. “I mean that was—delicious.”

  She was killing him by inches, at least a good seven by this point. “Maybe you should call Miranda.”

  “Like hell. She’d probably strangle me with the straps.” She gave him a pretty pout. “I spent too much on my bra to have it used as a murder weapon. You don’t want Tyler to see my cold, dead body with my La Perla wrapped around my neck, do you?”

  “You’ve got a point.” He didn’t want his rival anywhere near her, alive, dead, or naked. “I’ll man up.”

  “No, no, go on to your room.” She clutched the pajamas to her chest while she bit at her lower lip. “I really don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “And desert you in your hour of need?” He tried for a light tone but cursed his hands for trembling. “Come on, turn around.”

  She presented her back to him. “Be gentle.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “That’s an expensive bra.”

  He lifted her tank top to reveal a lavender lace confection that made his mouth water. It was then he discovered a small tattoo at the base of her spine where her unfastened jeans rode down. A crossed spoon and fork with the words Ruby’s Café at the top and Tilly’s Table at the bottom. He couldn’t help touching it with the tip of his finger. She jumped.

  “You keep surprising me, Matilda.”

  “Hey, just do what you’re back there to do.”

  He made short work of the bra’s closure, flicking it open now that he had his hands under control. The ends sprang apart, leaving an expanse of delectable ivory skin. “There you go.” He stepped away to keep from running his fingers over her naked back. The shirt fell down and hid Tilly from view.

  “Thanks.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if afraid his eyes had suddenly developed x-ray vision. “I’ll go change.”

  “I’ll stay long enough to check your bandage.” He held up his hand the second her face took on the mulish look he’d grown familiar with. “Don’t give me any lip. I want to be sure your stitches are okay before I take off.”

  She nodded and trotted off to the bathroom. He took the opportunity to lay out the gauze, tweezers, disinfectant, and tape he’d ordered earlier, along with the painkillers. A few minutes later she came back dressed in the ridiculous pajamas. A week ago, he’d have laughed at anyone who told him that Hello Kitty pajamas would ever give Victoria’s Secret stiff competition.

  She padded back into the living area of the suite and plopped down cross-legged on the sofa. “Okay, Dr. Kelly. I’m all yours.”

  “Let me know if I hurt you.”

  “Believe me, I won’t have to tell you. I’ll just scream in your ear.”

  He inspected the tape holding the bandage tight. “Damn it, I forgot scissors.”

  “I have a pair of manicure scissors.” She pointed to a small case on top of the built-in dresser. “Over there.”

  Once he found the scissors, he set to work. He clipped the tape and used the tweezers to carefully pry the old bandage from the palm of her hand. “There. Everything looks okay.” He reached over for the disinfectant and daubed it onto the stitches with a piece of gauze. She let out a soft hiss as it touched her palm. “How are you doing?”

  “Just fine, Dr. Kelly, just fine.” Another piece of gauze covered the stitches. The tape went on without any fuss, but she exhaled with relief. “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem.” He put the stuff back into the bag. “I’m just sorry you cut your hand while playing Brutus to Porky’s Julius Cesar.”

  “I should’ve known better.” She stood and held her injured hand. She paced around the room, her lower lip firmly clamped between her teeth. It was a tell that revealed her mind was working overtime on a problem.

  She stopped mid-pace. “This whole day has turned into a nightmare. Porky got his revenge in spades. I bled all over the poor pig.” Her head snapped up, her blue eyes wide with excitement. She ran over to Jordan and grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t I think of that sooner? It must have been the pain-killers.”

  He frowned down at her. “Think of what?”

  “The killer’s blood might be on the murder weapon.” Excitement grew as she went on. “All the forensic shows I watch say the killer usually leaves biological material on the murder weapon.” She sat back on the couch with a big smile. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Sometimes it gets under the handle of the knife, where the killers can’t get it clean. All the police have to do is find a DNA match.”

  He retrieved his shirt from the chair. “First the police have to find the murder weapon.” He pulled it over his head, picked up his shoes and socks, and sat beside her again. “Hank told me it usually can take a while to get DNA results back.”

  “No, I saw this show where they can do it in less than two hours.”

  “KCPD would’ve caught the killer by now if that was the case.”

  “Damn.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “It looks so easy on television.”

  “Unless…” He laid her injured hand in his palm. It looked so small there but fit just right. “One of the suspects cut themselves. The simplest thing is to look for someone wearing a Band-Aid.”

  “You’re right.” She jumped up to get a pad of paper and pencil and held them out to him. “Let’s start with the usual suspects.”

  “Olivia Vargas.” Jordan wrote her name at the top and stared up at her. “She cut herself on Friday night.”

  …

  “Don’t say ‘Olivia Vargas’ like that and raise your eyebrow at me.” Tilly plopped down next to him and held her injured hand. It throbbed like crazy, making it harder to concentrate. “You’ve got to think outside the box. Don’t forget, she was using a Santoku when she sliced her hand.” She went over the last couple of day’s events in her mind, but she hadn’t been looking at people’s hands. “The Band-Aid idea works for me. Put down Miranda.”

  “Miranda doesn’t have a cut on her hand.”

  “I don’t care. She needs to be on the list for general principles.” Fatigue rolled over her with all the subtlety of a freight train.

  “General principles?” He glanced up from the list with a frown drawing his expressive brows together.

  She chuckled. “Whenever one of us girls did something wrong, Daddy would spank both of us.”

  “What for?” His fingers curled around the pen in a hard grip. His dark eyes sparked with anger. “That’s abuse.”

  “Not as far as my Daddy was concerned.’ She sank deeper into the cushions, leaned back, and turned to face him with a wry smile. “It didn’t matter which one did the deed, he’d say, the other probably thought about doin’ it, too.”

  “Okay, Miranda Franklin in the general principle column.”

  “You don’t know how much I wanted her to have a Band-Aid. That woman has her ticket punched for Crazy Town.” She grabbed a pillow w
ith her good hand and plucked at the fringe. “What about Tom Green?”

  “Tom has a small Band-Aid, but he had it on Friday.”

  “Austin Kenslo didn’t have any cuts, either.”

  “Or, the killer might have been wearing gloves and this is an exercise in futility.” He raked his hand through his hair. “There’s Bolzano, Barrows, and Gilmore. Ethridge was pretty rough on them during the competition. Maybe one of them thought his comments would hurt business.”

  “We should sneak out and talk to them.” She yawned, but her mind wouldn’t stop churning out different scenarios about the suspects.

  He gave her a gentle nudge and put the pen and pad on the coffee table. “We’ll figure this out first thing in the morning.”

  “You’re leavin’?”

  He leaned down to his shoes on the floor and dug around inside to pull out his socks. “It’s already ten. You need to get some sleep.”

  “I’ve been sleepin’ all day.”

  “You’ve been drugged most of the day. Go to bed.”

  “Maybe I’ll call Tyler to sit with me.” She watched him frown as he shook out his sock and pulled it over his foot. “I bet he’d make up the list with me.”

  “In the morning.” The shoes went on next. “Call Jericho in the morning. Let the guy get some rest.” He got to his feet and motioned for her to get up. “Come on.”

  “I’m not sleepy.” She managed a reluctant shuffle across the room. How could she be so tired, yet wide-awake? “Really.”

  He straightened the covers on the bed and turned them down. She watched him fluff the pillows with the same look of determination as he did when he cooked. His efficient hands smoothed the pillowcase until it looked picture perfect.

  “You can always make it as a hotel maid if this cookin’ gig goes bust.”

  “Come on.” He gave the white duvet a pat. “No sass. Get back in bed. Watch some television if you can’t sleep.”

  She did as commanded, slid between the sheets, and settled back against the soft pillows. “There. Satisfied?” It warmed her inside to know someone cared about her enough to make a fuss, especially if it was him.

  He handed her the remote control. “There you go. Do you need a glass of water?” His crooked smile set off a heavy, slow beat against her ribs. “A bedtime snack?”

  “No, Dad.” She clicked on the television to distract her from his nearness. “I’m peachy.” She placed her thumb over the channel button, but before she’d even made it past one selection, he startled her by leaning down to give her a hard, quick kiss.

  “I’m not your father.” He chuckled and pointed to her shirt. “I’m just following orders.”

  For a second her mind went blank until she glanced down. She’d forgotten the shirt said Kiss Me. “I’m glad you know how to follow instructions.”

  “My instructions to you are to lock the door.” He turned to go. “You can get out of bed long enough to do that, but nothing else.”

  “Okay.” She got up to follow him to the door. “Good night. Thank you for—well, everything.” He reached out to cup her face in his hands. She reveled in the roughness of his thumbs as they stroked her cheeks in soft arcs of pleasure. She closed her eyes, waited for his kiss.

  Nothing happened.

  Instead, he pulled away, leaving her aching in both body and soul. He tapped her lightly on the tip of her nose a couple of times. “Take care. See you in the morning.” Jordan closed the door behind him.

  …

  Jordan knew he had to leave her room the moment she lifted her face, lips ripe for a kiss. Being around her gave him the same earth-tilting, stomach lurching, heart-pounding sensation he’d had riding the X2 at Six Flags Magic Mountain. A mixture of fire and fog that left him mixed up until he couldn’t think straight.

  The woman confused him.

  How could she infuriate and tempt him at the same time? She wasn’t averse to his kisses, he knew that much. Irritation buzzed in his brain like so many gnats. It didn’t seem possible that he’d fallen in love with her in a couple of days, especially after four years of sparring.

  He’d lived those emotions once before and had his heart handed to him. He swore he’d never take another ride like that one, but then along came Tilly. He wanted more than a quick lay or a weekend of great sex. The idea of waking up with her, day after day, appealed to him, gave him a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Now he had to convince Tilly to give it a try.

  It wouldn’t be an easy task, especially with her past working against him. Jordan decided he’d like to wring the neck of Jake4Ever if he ever got the chance. The guy did a real number on her. Gun-shy didn’t begin to describe her. One wrong move would have her skittering away like a startled rabbit. He knew he’d pushed it this evening. He couldn’t help himself. She’d looked so damned cute in those ridiculous pajamas, and the tired circles under her blue eyes tugged at him.

  Maybe he should’ve stayed. Leaving her took every ounce of his willpower. His thoughts tumbled over each other until he reached the door to his suite. The do not disturb sign still hung on the handle. He slid his key card in the slot, waited for the light to turn green, and went in. He rubbed the back of his neck as he rolled his shoulders to rid themselves of the knots that had made themselves at home.

  He might have ordered Tilly to sleep, but it would be impossible for him to do the same. There was a ton of work to be done. He might as well get something accomplished. He went to the desk and powered up his laptop. Taking Tilly to the hospital and staying with her had eaten into the time he normally devoted to business. It didn’t matter that he had his restaurants to run, a book deal in the works, or the television show. She had made it to the top of his priority list.

  He sat at the desk and typed in his password. His email account came up with several questions concerning the menus for the next week. The New York restaurant had a completely different range of produce and proteins than Los Angeles. Once that was done, he went on to his agent’s plans for a series of appearances scheduled through the end of next year. He tabled that one until he had the time to look it over. It took a few minutes to scroll through the remaining emails, sorting them by importance, until he came across one from Tom Green’s personal email account.

  He decided to wait until morning until he saw the subject line. It read, “LOST & FOUND.” Curiosity got the better of him. His eyes widened as he read the message and reread it to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted the words.

  He grabbed his phone and made a quick call. The phone range twice before a sleepy Tom answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Tom, this is Kelly.”

  “Oh, man.” Tom’s raspy voice raised an octave. “Don’t tell me that Hirschberg blew a gasket. The man has no concept of what’s it’s like to have kids and an ex-wife. Okay, he’s got three ex-wives, but no kids. Ali’s still blaming herself for Jerry’s broken arm.”

  “Don’t worry about Hirschberg. How’s Jerry?” He decided to ease into the conversation by asking about Tom’s seven-year-old son who’d fallen out of his bunk bed and ended up in the emergency room.

  “He’s doing better than me. Or Ali.” A long drawn-out sigh sounded on the other end of the call. “But it got us to talking, really talking for the first time in months.”

  “I guess what they say is true about silver linings.” He decided to jump right in. “Did you send me an email around nine this evening?”

  “No. Like I said, we spent the afternoon and evening together. I thought I’d call you tomorrow morning to see how your chat with Hirschberg went.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”

  “Damn it!”

  “Hey, Tilly spent part of the day in the ER as well. Cut the shit out of her hand. It took five stitches to patch her up and they gave her enough pain-killers to down an elephant.”

  “Wow.”

  “I’ll have Miranda call and smooth everything over. She’ll under
stand why you had to leave. As a matter of fact, she hasn’t even missed you.”

  “Good, let’s keep it that way.”

  “Tom, you are absolutely sure you didn’t send me an email?”

  “As sure as God made little green apples. Why?”

  “Because the message read, ‘You will find the murder weapon stuffed in a trash can inside Union Station.’”

  “Crap on a cracker!”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Goose bumps of excitement prickled Jordan’s skin.

  “Okay, Jericho.” He glanced down at the time at the bottom of his computer. It was close to midnight. “I’m calling you, anyway.” For a second he thought about calling Tilly with the new development. He decided against it, considering her day, and he’d be damned if he’d call Miranda. She would have to do without an exclusive until the police saw fit to give her one.

  He got out the card the detective gave him yesterday and dialed the number. After three rings he heard a sleepy growl. “Jericho here.”

  “It’s Jordan Kelly.”

  “Tilly?” Now the guy sounded wide awake. “Something else happened to her?” The concern in his voice stopped any snarky comments. Jordan decided this wasn’t the time for a pissing contest.

  “No, no.” He got up from the desk to pace the floor. “She’s sleeping. I wanted to let you know I got an interesting email from Tom Green. You might check yours to see if you got one, too.”

  “Hold on.” He heard the rustling sound of sheets being pushed aside. “Give me a minute—let me turn on my computer. So what’s the email about?”