Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery) (3 page)

The only uncomfortable moment had come when they were eating dessert and Natalie, as she’d instructed Jordan to call her, had quizzed her about how many children she planned to have. Alex had quickly jumped up and declared lunch officially over, admonishing his mother for getting too personal.

Leaving the restaurant, Natalie had whispered in Jordan’s ear when Alex was out of hearing distance. “I have a feeling you two will make beautiful grandchildren for me.”

Although they both knew it was way too early in the relationship to be thinking about things of that nature, Jordan had smiled back, wondering to herself what an Irish-Italian bambino would look like.

“There it is,” Victor shouted from the back, his voice as excited as a kid getting his first look at a new bike under the Christmas tree. “Oh my God! It looks even more awesome up close.” He leaned forward as Ray pulled the Suburban around the circular drive in front of the hotel.

“Kate said to be sure to use the valet. Otherwise we’ll have to park too far away. They’re expecting a huge crowd.”

“How did you finagle an invite for all of us?” Michael asked, leaning across Victor to get a better look. “My boss said there were tons of important people coming to the party. He tried to get me in with press credentials, but they didn’t go for that. Said it was a private party. He was really impressed when I told him I was going.”

“Why would the radio station be interested in the party? I thought it was only for the planners and the bigwigs in the Italian American Foundation?” Ray asked.

Jordan answered for Michael. “According to Kate, it’s just for the IAF people, but I can see why KTLK would be interested in covering it. It’s the biggest thing to hit the Dallas/Fort Worth area since Arlington hosted the Super Bowl last year.”

“I’ll say,” Victor added. “One of the guys who stops by the shop to chitchat every day said that people were coming from as far away as Palermo, Italy.”

“That’s true,” Jordan confirmed. “And from all over the United States, as well. It’s a pretty big deal.”

“So how did you get an invite, Jordan, and not Michael with press credentials?” Ray repeated Michael’s earlier question.

“The newspaper wants to make sure every aspect of the festival is covered. I’m actually on assignment tonight,” she answered. “They want me attend every event that has anything to do with food and give a running review in my column...” She paused before finishing with, “My column for now, anyway.”

Waiting for the valet, Michael turned to her. “What does for now mean?”

Jordan thought about changing the subject then decided her friends would find out sooner or later. “You remember Loretta Moseley who used to have my job at the newspaper?” When they nodded, she continued, “Well, she’s back in town, and she’s decided she wants her old job back.”

“No way!” Victor exclaimed. “Isn’t she the old bat who ran off with her lover?”

Jordan bit her lip to keep from grinning when Michael shot his partner a disapproving glance for calling Loretta an old bat. “That would be her.”

“Who does she think she is? She can’t just walk back onto the scene and ask for your job! More importantly, how can your editor, in his right mind, even consider it?” Lola huffed.

“Her uncle’s the owner,” Jordan explained with a shrug.

“I don’t care who her uncle is,” Lola said. “It’s not right.”

Jordan knew her friends would be outraged. “We’re both covering the events at the festival and writing about them. She takes one day, and I take the other. Then Egan and the owner will pick the one who gets to keep the column.” She tried not to sound too worried, but the truth was there was a good chance she’d have to give up the Kitchen Kupboard.

“You should’ve said that in the first place,” Rosie said, with a wink and a swipe at a strand of her blond hair that had slipped out of her usual French braid. “The good people of Ranchero love you and your recipes.”

“Your recipes,” Jordan corrected. “Without you, my job as the culinary expert would be a joke.”

Rosie patted her shoulder. “You could never be a joke, my dear. Maybe my recipes are a big hit, but it’s your personality that comes through in the column. You’re gonna kick that Loretta woman’s ass.”

A young man in uniform appeared, and Ray handed him the keys, then took the lead and walked through the elegant glass doors into the most beautiful lobby Jordan had ever seen.

“Would you look at this?” Rosie observed, doing a slow 360. “I can’t wait to see what the Presidential Suite looks like if the lobby is this gorgeous.”

An older man dressed in a dark gray suit that had definitely not come off the rack approached them. “May I help you?”

Jordan reached into her purse for her press pass and the gold emblazoned invitation Kate had given her. “I’m Jordan McAllister from the
Globe
, and these people are guests of Kate Moreland. We’re here for the IAF party.”

After carefully inspecting the documents, the concierge instructed them to follow him to a private elevator around the back of the hotel desk. He scanned a card, and the elevator opened instantly.

“This will take you straight to the Presidential Suite.”

Jordan felt a current of excitement course through her body when the door closed behind them. They were going to one of the biggest parties in Dallas. It would be a night to remember for all of them.

The sounds of a full-blown celebration could be heard even before the elevator door opened on the eleventh floor.

Stepping directly out into the largest hotel room she’d ever seen, Jordan stood in awe. The others were uncharacteristically silent, probably as star-struck as she was. A quick scan verified the room was twice the size of her entire apartment, and it looked like there were close to a hundred people milling around. A large, circular red leather couch wrapped around one entire side of the room, showcasing a magnificent stone fireplace with a theater-sized flat screen TV above the mantle.

Even with the recent temperatures topping the high nineties, there was a fire burning behind the glass enclosure, obviously more for ambience than heat. Jordan counted ten people sitting around the TV screen watching a video of a previous Italian festival. Hoots and hollers could be heard every few seconds as someone recognized a face on the screen.

In the center of the room, an impressive spiral staircase led to what Jordan assumed were the bedroom suites, with a balcony overlooking the lower floor. Off to the right was a bar nearly as big as the one Jordan and her friends frequented in Connor on Karaoke Night. Several people huddled around the dark oak structure either waiting for drinks or chatting with friends.

The rest of the party goers were moving from one group to another—
working the room
. Dean Martin’s soothing voice crooned
Que Sera Sera
over the huge speakers in the corners of the large room.

Alex appeared out of nowhere, “You take my breath away,” he whispered into her ear, causing the fine hairs on her neck to spring to attention. “New dress?” When she nodded, he put his hand on her shoulder and swiveled her around so that she was looking right at him. After his eyes moved up and down her body, they settled on her face. “Money well spent.”

“She almost didn’t buy it,” Rosie said. “I had to twist her arm.”

“I’ll bet every guy in this place is thanking you right now, Rosie.”

“Hush, Moreland! I’m already self conscious enough without you adding to it.” Jordan tried to look serious but couldn’t pull it off.

She tugged at the hem of the red and white dress she’d bought on sale at Macy’s that afternoon. Although it was a little shorter than she normally wore, Rosie had insisted it was perfect. She’d nearly flipped out when she’d seen the sales clerk adding in the matching stilettos that had cost almost as much as the dress.

Between Rosie and the young clerk who’d insisted the dress was nothing without the shoes, she hadn’t stood a chance. Even though the spree would put a serious dent in her budget for the month, she’d left the store with both. Seeing the approval in Alex’s eyes made it all worthwhile, though. Bologna sandwiches and chips would be her dinner staple for the next few weeks since eating out would have to be the first thing to go until she could get her finances back on track. That was if she didn’t fall and kill herself trying to walk in the heels.

A small price to pay for the way Alex was smiling at her now.

After bending down and lightly kissing her, he greeted the others. “Come on. Let’s get you all something to drink. You’re gonna need it before you meet my mom.”

They followed him to the other side of the room where a huge fountain was surrounded by a pyramid of cocktail glasses. Grabbing one, he filled it with the flowing liquid, and after attaching an orange slice for garnish, handed it to Jordan. “Taste this and then tell me you can stop at one.” While he filled two more for Lola and Rosie, the guys helped themselves.

After only one sip, Jordan licked her lips. “What’s this, Alex? It’s fantastic.”

“Italian Margarita. It’s a staple at the festival, so you’ll be drinking a lot of them next weekend. The amaretto makes it.”

“It tastes familiar to me. Isn’t this what George Christakis used to get me tipsy on the cruise the night I sat with him in the hot tub waiting for you to finish playing detective?”

“One and the same.” Alex grinned. “And if I’m remembering correctly, because of the New York restaurateur plying you with these margaritas, you and I didn’t get much sleep that night.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Rosie exclaimed, stepping between Jordan and Alex. “No talking about that kind of stuff. Remember, I’m flying solo tonight. I’ll need a few more of these before I can handle that kind of torture.” She refilled her glass and took a big swig. “Oh, this will definitely ease the pain.”

“I’m betting when you get a good look at some of these Italian gentlemen here, that may all change,” Victor said. “There are some hotties walking around.”

Rosie’s face lit up as Michael sent a dagger Victor’s way. “I never could resist a cute
paesano
.”

No truer words were ever spoken. Rosie was the femme fatale of the group and loved to flirt. It was an art form to her, and with four ex-husbands running around as proof, she’d gotten pretty good at it. She’d tried several times to teach Jordan how to do it, but each time Jordan had attempted to put it into practice, she hadn’t been able to pull it off and had ended up feeling incredibly stupid.

Jordan remembered once when a really cute guy had tugged at the back of her shirt and looked at the tag. When he’d declared she’d been made in heaven just as he’d thought, all she could come back with after that corny pickup line was, “It was on sale at Target.”

Sheesh! She was so lame when it came to interacting with men. Another side effect of hanging out with brothers whose idea of
protecting
her was scaring off any male who came sniffing her way. It wasn’t until she’d gone off to college—and away from their watchful eyes—that she’d had her first serious relationship with a guy.

And look how that had ended—alone again with still no clue about how to purposely attract the opposite sex.

Rosie still cracked up every time they went back to that bar in Connor. Thank heavens, she hadn’t run into the guy again. And lucky for her, she’d done better when she’d met Alex for the first time.

Actually, he’d picked
her
up, using a corny come-on line of his own at her favorite fast food Mexican joint. Instead of being a bumbling idiot, she’d fired one back at him. But she’d been in her element. If there was one thing she could converse intelligently about, it was Mexican food. It wasn’t until later that she’d learned Alex had been more interested in her involvement with a diamond smuggler than in her skinny redheaded self—to quote Loretta Moseley.

“Okay, everybody, fill up and follow me. My mom’s been dying to meet you all,” Alex said, flashing his pearly whites at her and making her heart skip a beat.

“What have you told her about us?” Victor asked. “Please tell me you only said good things.”

“Even as a kid I couldn’t lie to my mother.” Alex grinned. “Okay, I didn’t tell her
all
the bad stuff.”

They followed him over to the bar where his mother was chatting with a nice-looking older man decked out in a dark gray jacket. Jordan stole a glance Rosie’s way, knowing this guy was exactly the kind of man that would attract her fiftyish friend. She already imagined Rosie’s status changing from ‘single, party of one’ to ‘hooked-up, party of two.’ Mentally, she high-fived herself for knowing her neighbor so well when Rosie got her first look at the older gentleman and immediately stuck out her chest.

“Excuse me for interrupting, Mother, but I wanted you to meet Jordan’s friends.” He turned to the man beside her. “You, too, Emilio.”

Looking momentarily perturbed at being interrupted, the man quickly recovered, reaching for Rosie’s outstretched hand and kissing it in an exaggerated show of chivalry. Jordan fought to hide a smile when Rosie nearly swooned on the spot.

“Natalie Moreland and Emilio Calabrese, I’d like you both to meet Jordan’s neighbors.”