Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense)

by Dyann Love Barr

  After the waitress took their orders, she gathered up the menus and left. Jericho’s gaze shifted from Tilly’s eyes to her injured hand. “I should’ve asked about your hand earlier. Are you doing all right?”

  “It’s nothin’.”

  “You sounded out of it on the phone. I was worried, but I knew you were in good hands with Kelly.”

  There was nothing like being thrown a bone to make a man feel like shit. “I knew what to do. I was a medic in Iraq. It was clear she needed stitches, even if she fought me the whole way to the ER.”

  Jericho nodded, his features filled with approval. “You were in Iraq? So was I.”

  “Marines.”

  There, eat that.

  “Air Force. Flew Apaches.” The detective laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Crazy times.”

  “Yeah, crazy. I patched up a lot of you guys.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a medic. My chopper got shot down. I was lucky. Ended up with two broken ribs and some nasty cuts on my legs.” He nodded with approval. “I’m glad you knew what to do.” Jericho ran his thumb in tiny circles over the top of her good hand.

  Damn, shot down in flames again. Jordan gritted his teeth at the small intimate caress. It said one thing loud and clear. Possession.

  “Tilly?” The detective’s admonishment held a playful quality. “Why are you so stubborn?”

  “I honestly didn’t think it was that bad.” She blushed like a girl on a first date. “Jordan was right. It took five stitches.”

  “You should be in bed.”

  “That’s what I told her.” He leaned back in his chair with a snort. “We took a long nap together after we got back to the hotel. I told her this would be too much, but she wanted to be here.” There, let him chew on that one. It was the truth—maybe pulled and stretched out of shape a bit, but it was the truth.

  Jericho’s eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed. “You slept together?”

  She blinked several times in rapid succession and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s not what you think.”

  “She was out of it from the pain-killer. I had to make her comfortable.” He separated the knife from the other utensils and gave it a spin on the tabletop. He whirled it with his finger when it began to slow and brought out the big guns. “By the way, in case you’re ever thinking of getting her a gift, she likes expensive lingerie. La Perla.”

  The muscle in his rival’s jaw bunched and twitched.

  That put a wrinkle in your tin star, didn’t it, fly-boy. He wanted to jump up and do a victory dance. Instead, he rocked back on the legs of the chair.

  “Jordan Kelly, you are just plain mean.” Her hissed words held a world of embarrassment. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  Guilt gave him a nasty stab in the region of his heart. He had to tell himself it was for a greater good. He did the only thing he could do, he went on the offensive. “May lightning strike me if I’m lying.”

  A loud thump and crash sounded behind the old-fashioned counter.

  She jumped. Jericho twitched with speedy reflexes. His hand slid under his jacket.

  Jordan slammed the chair back on all four legs and looked over his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief. “See, no lightning, just a cranky ice machine.”

  “Don’t you believe a word of what he’s sayin’.” Her eyes narrowed, her gaze shifting to Jericho and then to him. “I know what you’re tryin’ to do. The pissin’ contest is gettin’ old. If I want to go on a date with Tyler, I will. I think he’s wonderful, so get over it.”

  “Consider it done.” He held up his hands in surrender, but that didn’t mean he was about to let the detective get a foot into her bedroom door. No, but he’d honor a truce for as long as it took for her to eat her chocolate cream pie.

  “I’m not perfect,” Jericho protested.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Jordan mumbled around a sip of hot coffee.

  “I have an ex-wife who’d be glad to tell you every fault.” The detective’s face went still, his eyes closed off in spite of the smile. “She wanted to follow her dream of investigative journalism and I wanted to keep her tucked up safe at home. Didn’t work, and she’d be the first to tell you.”

  The now familiar ring of the detective’s phone sounded from inside his jacket. “Detective Jericho.”

  His eyes hardened, his nose twitched like a bloodhound on the trail of a scent. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He ended the call with a tap of his thumbnail. “That was Officer Adams. They found a bloody knife just where Tom said it would be—in a trash can by the Information Center.”

  He stood and threw a few bills on the table. “That should cover everything.”

  …

  Tilly jumped up. They’d come too far to be excluded from the investigation. “Please, let us come with you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, besides, it’s almost one in the morning.” Tyler turned to Jordan. “Take her back to her room—make sure she gets some rest.” He started to leave, but turned back with a half smile. “You were right. They found a ten-inch chef’s knife. We still have to see if it’s the knife that killed both victims.”

  “Wow, oh wow.” A thrill ran through her as she watched Tyler leave the coffee shop. “I did it. I was right!” She let out a girlish squeal and threw herself into Jordan’s arms, hugging him as hard as she could. “I was right.” It didn’t matter if her hand hurt, stabbing Porky had been worth a few stitches.

  “Yes you did.” Jordan returned the hug. He tilted her face up and gave her a quick kiss. “Congratulations.”

  She disengaged herself from his embrace. “How can you be so nice one minute and a jerk the next?”

  “It’s a gift. Hero to jerk in sixty seconds.”

  “Well, it’s confusin’.”

  “And you aren’t?” He let out a soft laugh. “Matilda Jane Danes, you take the cake when it comes to confusion. Not only take the cake, but bake the damn thing, and win every prize in the book. You’ve given me a complex.”

  “Inferiority?” She didn’t try to hold back a smirk. Pulling his chain was fun, especially when he got so worked up. He had to be the only man who could be so huffy and sexy at the same time.

  “No, Don Juan complex. I didn’t know I had one until I met you.” He gave her a sour look.

  “Don Juan complex?”

  He shot her a sideways glance and jammed his hands into his pockets. “Yes, I thought I knew everything about women, then I find out I really don’t know squat.”

  “I don’t believe you mean that.”

  “Every word. I’ve developed a taste for shoe leather.” His mouth quirked to one side. “It comes in handy, considering my foot is in my mouth most of the time.”

  “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

  “Only if you give me the chance.” He grimaced and worked his tongue in and out of his mouth as if getting rid of a bad taste. “See, I can’t seem to stop it. I need a little salt and pepper to go with the soles of my running shoes. They may cost a mint, but they taste like crap.”

  She laughed at the mental image of him using his Nikes for an appetizer. “A good Louisiana hot sauce would be my choice.”

  His arm wrapped around her shoulder in a casual embrace. “Why don’t I get you back to your room? There are circles under those beautiful eyes.”

  The simple compliment, even backhanded, made her heart stutter like Ruby’s old lawn mower. He didn’t make any moves to kiss her. She relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his arm around her as he held her closer against his side. She let herself indulge in the warmth and scent of his body. Her hormones cranked up, sputtered to life.

  They had made it to the lobby and passed the bar when Austin Kenslo’s voice rang out.

  “Kelly, Tilly. Hold up. I need to talk to you.”

  She glanced around Jordan to see Kenslo hotfooting it in their direction. The man stopped and swayed on his feet before lurching forward.


  “I’d say run, but it’s too late,” she murmured between her clenched teeth.

  The ruddy glow on the man’s face said he’d been upside down in a bottle for the better part of the evening.

  There was only one thing to do. Acknowledge him and get the hell out of Dodge. “Hello, Mr. Kenslo.”

  “You two are out late.” He blinked and gave them a pie-eyed, drunken stare.

  “And your point?” Jordan gave the agent his patented evil eye, but the man was too far gone for subtlety.

  “No point.” Kenslo gave them a sloppy snap of his fingers and leaned closer. “Hey, I saw your detective friend heading toward the skywalk like his ass was on fire. Anything up?” Fumes roiled off his body in a tangible wave of whiskey, making the chocolate cream do a rousing polka in her stomach.

  “No.” She took shallow breaths to avoid the smell of expensive cologne and booze. “Tyler wanted us to go over a few things, you know, legal stuff, before he gives a statement tomorrow.”

  “At midnight?” Kenslo weaved closer until he was up in her face.

  “Let’s go.” Jordan guided her through the lobby and toward the elevators. “We have an early start tomorrow.”

  The agent tagged alongside, oblivious to the fact that he was unwelcome. She had no desire to get to know the man any better. “He looked like a—man—on, hic, a mission.”

  “He’s basically on call until they get this murder solved. As a matter of fact he—”

  Jordan’s sudden squeeze on her shoulder kept her from saying more. “Oow. What was that for?”

  “It’s to remind you that Jericho told you to go to bed.” He gave her a smile and a chuck under the chin, but his intense gaze, and the slightest shake of his head, told her to be quiet. For once she listened. Everyone was suspect.

  “Sorry, Mr. Kenslo. No time to talk.”

  “It’s Austin.” He fumbled around inside his jacket and brought out his card case. He pulled out two business cards. “Here, take these.” He grabbed her good hand and slapped a card into it. “What’s up with your hand? Kill anyone?”

  She backed up until she contacted the hard wall of Jordan’s chest.

  “That’s enough.” His growl rumbled against her back.

  Kenslo waved his hands in the air as if erasing his crass remark. “My bad. Look, I know you already have agents, but if either of you decide to change, well, I’d love to represent you.” He held out a card to Jordan.

  He ignored it.

  Frowning, the agent managed to put it back into his case after two tries. “I’m still in town for a couple of days if you change your mind. Business, you know. I plan to meet with a couple of potential clients. That Barrows fellow has possibilities. What do you think of Olivia Vargas?”

  “I don’t.” Jordan’s terse statement made the man back up.

  “Okay, okay. It was worth a shot.” He held his hand up in well-oiled surrender. “I know when to back off,” he slurred. “I’ll just ride up with you to my room. Gotta go take a piss anyhow.”

  They arrived at the elevators in time for the doors to open and a car full of partygoers to pour out. Jordan herded her inside and hit the close door button before the agent could get past the people blocking the door.

  “That was rude, but I don’t care,” she whispered to him.

  “I’m glad you approve. I didn’t think you wanted to ride in a confined space with the jerk.” His lip curled in disgust. “The man has enough alcohol in his system that one spark of static electricity could blow this car to kingdom come.”

  “You’re fibbin’.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or frown. Instead, she glanced up at him with mock incredulity. “Not really. Would it?”

  “No, but he’s a good candidate for spontaneous human combustion.” The doors opened and he held her good hand all the way to her room. He motioned for her to give him her key card. One decisive swipe and the green light blinked. He turned the handle and guided her inside. “Come on. Let me help you out of those clothes.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tilly’s cheeks pinked and her teeth worked overtime on her lower lip. He was sorely tempted to lean down and taste her abused mouth.

  “That came out the wrong way.” He laid her key card on the small table by the couch. “Let me help you get back into your pajamas.”

  “Oh, okay.” A hint of disappointment left a small pout on her face. She dropped her purse on the floor, held out her arm, and heaved a sigh. “Here.”

  “This should be a lot easier going in reverse.” He carefully eased the sleeve over her hand with little trouble.

  She stood in front of him with her empty sleeve hanging down and looking as adorable as hell. “Well, I guess you better go. It is gettin’ late.”

  “Yes, it is.” He reached out to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs traced the soft skin of her cheeks and up, smoothing over the faint purple circles under her eyes. “It’s been a long day.” He gave in to the need to feast on her mouth.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips opened at the first touch of his, tasting him and slowly consuming his mouth. Her kiss seared his soul—he couldn’t keep up with the riot of feelings churning around in his mind. Breathing became a thing of the past as he delved deeper. His blood grew hot and thick with desire and he wanted to bury himself inside her, take her to the limit, and when they were done, he wanted her to beg him for more. A little moan of pleasure nearly sent him over the edge of reason.

  He reached under her top to touch the silky skin that had haunted his dreams all night long. The weight of her breast in his hand, the way her nipple went rock hard at his touch, made him harder than ever. She swayed closer, arching up and into his touch. It would take a lifetime of tasting this woman to ever get enough.

  A lifetime? He broke off the kiss and took a step back. The thought of waking up every morning to fiery red curls, blue, blue eyes, and her lushness in his arms shook him, bone deep. Not as a prize in a game between him and Jericho, but the real deal.

  “What’s wrong?” Her eyes were wild and dark with only a faint ring of aqua around her pupils. “I thought you wanted—”

  “Oh, believe me, I do—in the worst way.”

  “I’d hoped for more than ‘worst’.” She took a step forward and stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck. Her body slid against his in a sensuous wriggle. “Umm, how about something along the lines of spectacular?”

  He gave her a self-deprecating laugh. “I think the pain-killers are still messing with your brain.” He wanted to stay. Every instinct jumped around like monkeys in a tree, but there was a part that held back. Tilly deserved more than a one-night stand. “Besides, it’s late.”

  Her hand settled on his chest, over his heart. It sped up somewhere near warp ten.

  “I’ll see you at breakfast. Eight a.m. sharp.” She gave him one of her Mona Lisa smiles. “My room or yours?”

  “I think the restaurant would be safer.” He placed his hand over hers.

  “Who said anything about safe? Eight a.m.—here.”

  “Are you trying to put me in a compromising position, Matilda?”

  “Let’s wait and see.”

  …

  Tilly tossed and turned all night. The throbbing in her hand compounded her inability to sleep by reminding her of the trip to the emergency room and its aftermath. Why had she let Jordan kiss her not once, but twice tonight? He blew hot and cold. One minute he was snarky, the other gentle and caring. He confused her. Tilly’s body burned with embarrassment at the antics of the crazy lust monkey she’d caged for so long. Tyler made her tingle with excitement as well, but he lacked Jordan’s bad boy vibe.

  The gray of early dawn washed through the windows. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t go back to her fitful sleep. The clock showed the time as six-thirty in the morning. That meant Ruby would’ve made sure Sarah was up in time to get ready for school.

  She heaved a sigh of resignation, rolled over, and reached for her ce
ll phone on the nightstand.

  Her heart pounded as she pressed the number for her home in Tennessee.

  “Hey Mamma, what’s up?” Sarah sounded chipper but a little distracted. “Hey, Ruby, it’s Mamma!”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “No, I just finished breakfast.” Her daughter had adopted a new posh accent. “I still have a few minutes before I have to get ready.”

  “Did you hear the news?” She didn’t know if Sarah bothered with the news. Her interest lay in her best friends, the newest fashion trends, and Justin Bieber. In that order. Her mother had the honor of being number four.

  “About that food critic’s murder? Yes. A couple of my friends on Facebook commented on it. I didn’t check it out it because I have a history paper due tomorrow.” She heard a hint of evasiveness creep into her child’s voice.

  “Are you sure everything’s goin’ okay at school?”

  “Sure it is.” Her daughter gave her a too-bright chirp.

  She decided to talk to her foster mother after she finished her conversation with Sarah. “Well, there’s more.” Tilly nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t know if you knew that Jordan Kelly and I found Ethridge’s body.”

  “OMG!”

  “It was awful, however, that’s not why I called.”

  “You find a body, but that’s not why you’re calling me at six-thirty in the morning? O-k-a-y.” Sarah stretched the word out in suspicion. “I’d think you’d be singing ‘Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.’”

  “How can you say that?”

  “‘Ding Dong the Beast from the Lowest Depths of Hell’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it. Maxwell Ethridge made you miserable, and what are you doing hanging around with Jordan Kelly? If I remember right, you told me he was number two on the scale of evil—devil incarnate.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Mamma.” The supercilious accent left her daughter’s voice. Now it was corn bread and strawberry-rhubarb pie all the way. She could picture Sarah shaking her long, curly red hair in exasperation. “You were born complicated.”