Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense)

by Dyann Love Barr

  “I’ll make sure the Chief of Police knows about your unwillingness to cooperate.” Her tirade built steam. “This special could do a lot for the KCPD.”

  “He already knows, and I think my record can withstand the heat.”

  Her face turned an ugly shade of green before she snagged Nick by the arm and hauled him away while he protested. “I think we can still talk to the security guys downstairs.”

  Jericho shook his head in either disgust or disbelief. Jordan couldn’t tell, until the detective’s eyes settled on Kenslo, Barrows, and Gilmore.

  “What are you three up to?” The detective’s simple question might have been meant as a casual comment, but Jordan saw the speculation in those hard eyes. Gilmore looked ready to pee his pants. Barrows’s face didn’t give away a thing. “Why are you here? This was closed to everyone except the press.”

  “We were conducting a bit of business and heard about the press conference.” Kenslo’s eyes flashed with anger and frustration a mere second before he smiled. “I thought we’d sneak in and have a look. Miranda wouldn’t mind. After all, we’re friends.”

  Jordan frowned. “I thought you said the woman was psycho.”

  “She is.” The agent shoved his hands in his pockets without his usual regard for ruining the line of his clothes. “But it’s hard to miss her and her pet cameraman running all over the place. I was curious, so I asked.”

  “You’re right. It’s a publicity stunt for The Culinary Channel more than anything.” Jordan wrapped his arm around Tilly’s shoulder. “Tilly came up with the idea.”

  “You were the one who ran with it,” she piped up and stepped out of his casual embrace. “We’re here until The Culinary Channel gets enough footage to honor the dearly departed.”

  Several reporters tried to waylay them as Tilly, Jordan, and Detective Jericho filed out of the room, only to be dissuaded by the detective’s hard stare. One, a sharp-eyed blonde ignored the unspoken warning. She gave him a bright cheerleader smile and thrust a microphone under his nose. “This is Kaitlyn Harris with Channel Five news. Rumor has it that the police have found the murder weapon. Is this true? My sources say it was a chef’s knife with Olivia Vargas’s fingerprints and blood on it. What can you tell our viewers?”

  Kaitlyn Harris got the first real reaction from the detective since the press conference.

  “You.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and let out a long-suffering sigh. “What is it with women and cameramen this afternoon? One a day is my limit. You’re number two.”

  The tension in the air grew even if the reporter’s smile didn’t move so much as a twitch. “Detective, I’m never number two—that’s your forte.”

  Tilly looked over at Jericho and back to him. He hadn’t missed the double entendre either. It was up in the air as to who was calling whom a shit.

  “The Chief of Police has issued his statement.” Jericho gave her the patented cold look designed to cow lesser humans. “Like I’ve told several reporters, there won’t be any information given to the public until we know more.”

  Looks were deceptive. The reporter had the tenacity of a pit bull. “Did Cesare Bolzano die the same way as Maxwell Ethridge?”

  “No comment.” Jericho turned away. In essence, he was done talking to the pert reporter.

  “My sources tell me that the same weapon was used in both murders. Surely the police have good reason to hold Vargas for that murder as well.”

  The detective rounded on her. “A very good reason. Two men are dead and the evidence speaks for itself. If you have any further questions you can contact Chief Isaacson’s office.”

  There was more behind the glare the reporter directed at Jericho than the sting of his simple dismissal. “Come on, Sam,” she told the cameraman following on her heels. “We’re not getting anything usable this afternoon. We’ll have to use a b-reel and voice-over. Once again, thank you, Detective Jericho.” Sarcasm oozed like cold molasses. She pushed open the door with one hand and looked over her shoulder with a lethal glare. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  Jordan watched her sashay down the hall, stuffing her mic into the large leather bag at her side and speaking to her cameraman. “She’s something.”

  His answer came in a scowl and a grunt of displeasure.

  “Run into her often?” Jordan whistled between his teeth.

  “Often enough.” Jericho let out a heavy sigh. “She’s a thorn in my side. It’s like she has some radar when it comes to murder and pops up like a jack-in-the-box. No story is worth getting shot over.”

  “She got shot?” Tilly’s horrified gasp echoed his own surprise as he glanced at the reporter’s retreating figure. “How did that happen?”

  “Long story and ancient history. She’s my ex-wife and I’m the one who shot her.” Jericho frowned again but, for a brief second, regret lurked in his eyes.

  “What!”

  “She was on the hunt for a story and got between me and the bad guy.” He looked haunted and hunted at the same time. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Sure.” He noticed the tic under the detective’s left eye. Okay, so Iron Jaw isn’t perfect after all, but that sucked, big time. “Just so you’re in the loop, Tilly and I plan on talking to these three.” The men were working their way to the back of the room. “We found out Bolzano bought the red zinfandel and took it to Ethridge’s room. Maybe we can find another piece of the puzzle that the killer forgot about.”

  Jericho rounded on him. “When did you plan to tell me about the wine?”

  “Barrows told me earlier this morning.” Tilly gave Jericho her biggest smile—the one with the damn dimples that drove Jordan crazy. But it was for a good cause if it deflected the detective’s anger. “I forgot to mention it earlier. Barrows said he’d forgotten about Bolzano buying the wine in the hotel bar. It didn’t register with him until our discussion triggered his memory.”

  “It’s a convenient excuse for lying to the police.”

  She shook her head and stood her ground. Her feistiness was as endearing as it was irritating. “It’s the truth.”

  Now the tic under Jericho’s eye did the rumba. “You know I’m going to have to take him in for questioning again. Everything he says has to be on the record.”

  “I understand.” She pointed between herself and him. “But let us talk to them first.”

  Jericho squeezed his eyes shut and sighed with resignation. “Okay. Call me if you find out anything.” He reached into his pocket for a piece of gum. “It’s to help me quit smoking. I’ve got to get out of here before I turn into the Incredible Hulk. Thanks to my ex, The Culinary Channel, and now Barrows, my patience is gone.”

  She reached up on tiptoes and kissed Jericho’s cheek. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Get out of here,” the detective growled. He gave her a rare smile and rubbed his cheek as he walked through the door.

  She caught Jordan’s eye, her head nodding toward the table where the men remained. Her expression said they’d better hustle if they wanted to catch them. She was right. The three started toward the ballroom doors.

  “Gentlemen,” she called out. They turned in unison. “I was thinkin’, why don’t we go get some coffee? I could use something stronger than a glass of water.”

  “Coffee sounds good. A good shot of bourbon would be even better.” Kenslo’s eyes settled on her, sizing her up as a potential client. His eager response set Jordan’s teeth on edge, but a guy had to make a living, even if he was an asshole. He’d pump the agent for every bit of information he could, even if it meant dangling the possibility of changing agents. Jordan took her arm and started out the door. “Why don’t we all go to the restaurant?”

  A few minutes later they were seated around the table in the same little private room that Tilly and Jericho would’ve had their first “date,” if he hadn’t barged in. He smiled at the memory and pulled out a chair for her. Once she was seated, he planted a small kiss o
n the top of her red hair. “We’re not done yet,” he whispered.

  She shot him a withering look that glanced off him like Teflon and muttered through her tightened lips, “Don’t push.” Her hands smoothed her linen napkin over her lap with slow, measured motions, followed by a sigh. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Count on it.” He decided to let her stew for a while. She wanted space, and he planned to give her all she needed—until after they’d had their coffee. Then all bets were off.

  The waitress took their orders and left. Tilly leaned forward, her attention on Gilmore. “So, tell me what you thought of the press conference.”

  “Lame—a waste of tax dollars. They didn’t say anything new.” Gilmore pushed back the bright red flash of hair and smiled at her. “I’ll bet you know more than what they’re telling the public.”

  “That’s what I wondered as well.” Kenslo scooted closer to her and draped his arm over the back of her chair, letting his hand brush her shoulder. “I know I was drunk the other night, but I did see you two with your heads together with our detective friend.”

  “We’re just as much in the dark as you are.” She threw Jordan a look that said she could handle the agent. “We were goin’ over the statements we made after we found Ethridge’s body. Crossin’ T’s, dottin’ I’s, that sort of thing.”

  “No wonder you looked so serious.” His arm edged nearer to her with all the finesse of a raw teenage boy trying for first base with a girl. “I saw the video of you yesterday afternoon. You two an item?”

  Her lashes fluttered down. She gave a slight shake of her head that made Jordan’s brain boil. They’d spent the afternoon engaging in some of the most spectacular sex he’d ever had, and if her reactions were to be believed, hers as well. Getting the woman to commit to a relationship had to be as exasperating as nailing Jell-O to a tree.

  “Oh, he was my knight in shinin’ armor.” She moved closer to the edge of her seat and raised her bandaged hand for their inspection. “I made a stupid mistake with a knife. He rushed me to the ER.”

  “The evening news made it look like you two were having a private party.”

  She gave Kenslo a small self-deprecating laugh. “Nothin’ as excitin’ as that—just some drugs to dull the pain.”

  “I wondered what happened.” Barrows leaned back, taking in her injury, and hissed through his teeth. “That’s going to put you out of commission for a while.”

  “The Culinary Channel will figure a way around it, but it will be hard to do any signing on my book tour.”

  “Everyone loves you. Remember what I said. I’m serious about representing you.” Kenslo’s voice lowered into a seductive pitch. “We’d make a great team.” He leaned even closer, so close that his breath stirred the soft flips of her hair.

  A primal surge of possessiveness and anger surprised Jordan. His first instinct was to grab the guy and bash his head against the table. He decided he’d let him go only so far before he ripped his arm off.

  “I’m not a very good team player.” She didn’t give Kenslo so much as a smile, but it didn’t stop him from trying one more time.

  “You never know until you try.” The agent flashed a smile that would make his dentist proud. “I’ve got Barrows ready to sign, haven’t I? My boy Brad—” he reached over and gave Gilmore an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder “—just did the honors.”

  Gilmore nodded, his eyes full of excitement. “That’s right.”

  Barrows grimaced and took a sip of his ice water. Jordan figured the man had enough intelligence not to hook up with the likes of Kenslo, but the idea of book deals and celebrity status could turn the best chef’s head.

  “I haven’t committed to anything, except a big dinner party my company is catering tomorrow night.” His eyes didn’t give anything away. Jordan would put Barrows up against Jericho any day in a staring contest. “I’m up to my ass in alligators, or in this case petit fours.”

  “Take your time.” The agent’s overly bright grin dimmed a couple of watts. “Think things through.”

  “That’s the plan.” Barrows leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression closed. “I’ll consider it. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

  Kenslo bristled. “I thought we had a deal.”

  “Saying I’ll think about it means just that, I’ll think about it.” His voice was emphatic. “This involves more than just me. I have my company and employees to consider.”

  He liked Barrows more and more. “I can put you in contact with my agent if you want to talk to him.” Not only would it put a kink in Kenslo’s underoos, he knew Barrows had the personality and chops to carry off a career in the spotlight.

  “Really?” For once the walls slipped. Surprise and excitement lit up Barrows’s face like a Christmas tree. “That would be great.”

  “Hey, wait a minute.” An angry red raced up Kenslo’s neck and into his face. “You’re poaching my clients.”

  “I’m not an agent.” He gave Kenslo a half smile. “The man said he was considering signing, a big difference from having the contract in your hands. I’m just giving him options.”

  The agent rose halfway out of his chair. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  “And you still want me as a client?” His razor sharp question had the desired effect. Kenslo slowly sat as all eyes focused on him.

  The table grew quiet as they waited for the other man’s response. He sat back in his chair with a stunned expression on his face as if he’d won the Mega-Million Lottery. “I don’t know what to say—”

  The waitress slid open the door to the room and brought in the coffee, interrupting the avalanche of brown-nosing that Jordan expected.

  Tilly was the first to break the silence after the waitress left.

  “Brad…may I call you Brad?”

  Jordan groaned inwardly as she poured a half a cow’s worth of cream into her coffee. The first thing he planned to do, other than taking her to bed again, was to wean her off defiling a good cup of joe.

  Gilmore nodded. “Not a problem, Ms. Danes.”

  “Tilly.” She took a dainty sip of her poor desecrated coffee. “I’d be honored if you call me Tilly. I have a question. Was the recipe you used for the goat cheese dish one you make all the time, or did you come up with it on the spot? It was very tasty.”

  A blush spread over young man’s pale face. “I threw it together at the last minute. The ingredients lent themselves to that dish.”

  “I adored it,” she gushed. He knew what she was trying to do and hoped she didn’t go overboard. “So did Ethridge.”

  “Everyone knows how he loved goat cheese and I thought, ‘Why not?’” His body literally vibrated with pride. “I’ll have to dedicate that dish to him in my new cookbook.”

  “You didn’t add any secret ingredients to his that you left out of ours?” She smiled and raised one eyebrow in a decent imitation of Jordan’s own signature gesture.

  Gilmore gave her a puzzled look. “No, why?” The bewilderment in his face turned to distress. “I didn’t cheat.”

  “No one said you did.” Jordan palmed his coffee cup in his hand, relishing the warmth against his skin. All he wanted to do was to be here, alone with her, and enjoy the dark, inviting scent and taste of his coffee. Now he had to be Castle in a chef’s jacket. “I enjoyed the dish, but Ethridge praised it—something very rare for him. One thing about him, if he liked a dish, he couldn’t get enough. Did he ask for the leftovers?”

  “No.” Gilmore shook his head. “As far as I know, the clean-up crew disposed of the goat cheese. The time after he announced the results of the contest was a blur. I didn’t see it when I went back to clean my knives after all the congratulations.” Panic raced across Gilmore’s face. “Wait, are you saying my goat cheese killed him?”

  “No.” Jordan could tell the truth here, because the poison hadn’t had a chance to do the dirty work.

  She leaned over and put her hand on top of Gilmore’
s. “Your dish wouldn’t kill anyone, unless they died from sheer pleasure. It just seemed such a shame to waste perfection.” She gave him a little pat along with her perky smile. “I hope you send me the recipe. The Friends of the Arts are hostin’ a little tea later this month. I’d love to be able to put it on our menu.”

  “I’d like that.” A blush of pleasure colored his face. “No, I’d be honored.”

  “It’s called networkin’. You need all the exposure you can get when you’re startin’ out in the business.” Tilly picked up her cup and took a dainty sip. “You have a lot of talent.”

  “Thank you, Ms. D—Tilly.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “You’re butting in, just like Kelly there.” Kenslo lost all pretense of congeniality. In the heat to corral his client, he completely forgot about the potential golden goose sitting across the table.

  He sat back in his chair and glowered at her. “Gilmore has already signed with me. You’ll have to pay to get that recipe, just like anyone else.”

  “I’m sorry.” She gave a sad little shake of her head and took another sip of her coffee. “It would be good to see your name as a featured chef on the menu, but I understand if Mr. Kenslo feels supportin’ the arts will cut into any business profits.”

  Gilmore turned to the agent. The expression on the kid’s face turned mulish. “I want to do this.”

  “No. Not unless she pays the going fee for the use of your recipe.”

  “It’s not for me, but the Friends of the Arts.” Her voice took on a deeper, sweet, dark whiskey flavor of the South. She reached out to give the chef a comforting pat on the hand. “Don’t fret—maybe next time we can work somethin’ out.” She shook her head in resignation. “FOTA will miss Ethridge. He was a benefactor and a big draw as well.”

  Jordan’s jaw dropped in surprise at her revelation. “You’re kidding me, right?” He couldn’t picture the man supporting a charity or any organization unless there was something in it for him.

  “Oh, he had his moments, but bless his little heart, he had a soft spot for the arts. I wasn’t afraid to milk that for every penny I could get. He adored the fame and we got the money. It was a win-win situation. He might’ve been Jack the Ripper incarnate, but he could bring in the money.” She set her coffee cup back in its saucer with a little sigh. “Lordy, I sound hardhearted, don’t I? The man was murdered, and all I can think about is how much the Friends of the Arts will suffer.”