Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense) (11 page)

“No.” She groaned and looked to Jordan for confirmation. Her heart sank as he shrugged.

“Oh yes, Tilly Danes, Culinary Channel’s little Southern sweetheart, you looked drunk as a skunk.”

“It was the painkillers.” Her insides turned to ice at the thought of the world thinking she was a lush. “Tell her it was the meds.”

“She cut her hand and I took her to the emergency room.”

“You should’ve let us know where you were.” Miranda gave her a smug smile. “It aired right after you got back. Our viewers ate it up—the ratings skyrocketed. We were even picked up by the national news channels. Wait until we announce she was in the hospital. It will make a better story. Draw it out a bit. Maybe we’ll focus on the romance angle.” She glanced down at her watch. “With any luck, it’ll make the ten o’clock news.”

“Our private lives are off limits.” The last thing Tilly wanted was any hint of scandal touching her family.

“Nope.” Miranda waggled her fingers back and forth. “You’re public figures. Anything goes.”

“I don’t think so.” Jordan shook his head, his laugh faded into a growl. “We only agreed to let you film our part in the investigation. Detective Jericho isn’t the type to let you snoop around in his personal life, either.”

Nick danced around them with the camera in an effort to get the best shot.

“Get that thing out of my face.” Jordan crossed his arms over his broad chest, his hip hitched to one side, the expression on his face grim. “Unless you want me to shove it up your ass.”

“Just doin’ my job, man.” The cameraman made a half circle around Jordan, oblivious to the danger lurking in his eyes. He aimed the camera in her direction.

Jordan’s hand shot out so fast that Nick didn’t have time to react, other than letting out a shriek of horror as Jordan hurled the camera across the room. It hit the wall with enough force to shatter the lens and leave a small dent in the wall.

“Oh man. Oh dude.” The cameraman scrambled over to the camera and fell to his knees. He cradled it in his hands with all the gentleness of holding a baby bird with an injured wing. “Why did you have to do that, man?” His mournful cry was cut short as he shouted into the mic of his headset. “Yes, I know. Dude, Kelly just threw my freaking camera across the room. No, you don’t understand. It’s dead, Jim.”

“Jordan’s right.” Anger scalded the blood in Tilly’s veins. “If I want to tell the public what happened, I will. In my own way, but not like this.”

Miranda rounded on Tilly, her hands curled into claws as if she wanted to rake them over Tilly’s face. “Think of this as payback for hitting me.”

“Go ahead.” Tilly’s temper roared to life. She didn’t like confrontation, but by damn, she wouldn’t run away. She held up her injured right hand. “And I swear you will be on the wrong end of an ass-kickin’.”

Nick looked around the room from Tilly and back to Miranda, trying to decide if he should stay or not. He inched closer to freedom.

Miranda took a step forward and raised her hand to meet her challenge.

Jordan was lightning fast. He grabbed Miranda by the arms and turned her around so quickly she came close to falling off her Louboutins. “I’d listen to the lady if I were you.”

The cameraman grabbed the doorknob. “All right, I know when the wagons are circling.” He nodded at Jordan. “I’ve got no quarrel with you, dude. I’m out of here.”

“Don’t you walk out.” Miranda’s shriek filled the room. “Don’t you walk out!” She turned and marched toward the door. She whipped around, fury burning in her green eyes. “I’ll make your lives a living hell if I lose my job because of this.” She slammed the door behind her.

Tilly sagged against Jordan. “I think that woman is fuckin’nuts. One minute she’s hysterical over Ethridge’s death and now all she can think about are ratin’s. Talk about mood swings, and don’t tell me it’s PMS.”

“Language, please.” Jordan’s chuckle faded, his brow wrinkled into a frown. He led her to the bed and sat down on the edge with her. “She’s on an emotional roller coaster, that’s for sure. Maybe Ethridge got tired of her drama.”

She flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Jordan?” She turned her head to see him sitting with his hands hanging between his knees.

“Hmmm?” He glanced up at her, his dark eyes questioning.

“We’ve had words. A lot of them over the last couple of years.” She had to ask. “Do I sound like her?”

“Never.” He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “Besides, you’re cute when you get mad. She’s ugly and out of control.”

She enjoyed the slight friction of his chin against her hair, the smell of his skin.

“I really wanted to smack her.” He heaved a worried sigh. “It’s never once crossed my mind to hit a woman. That doesn’t say much about me as a man.”

“You’d never hit a woman, not even her.” She listened as the anxious beat of his heart slowed, his breathing evened out. “Besides, I beat you to it. Her hysterics drove me to desperate measures. The only other person I’ve ever smacked is Jake. He deserved it. I don’t count the few times I had to swat Sarah’s rear.” She smiled up at him. “So see, I’m a lot meaner than you can ever be—in spite of your reputation.”

“Matilda Danes, you’re something else.” His head dipped down. “There were times you’ve made me want to tear my hair out, but I’d never lay a finger on you.”

Her heart sped up double time. “That’s too bad.”

His eyes grew darker, if that were possible, a second before his mouth claimed hers. He tasted of mystery, passion, and Jordan. His tongue dipped past her lips, sampled, warmed her like no other man had. She clutched at his bare shoulders, afraid to let go in the maelstrom of emotions whirling inside. He leaned her back on the couch, his hand brushing from her hips to her waist, before sliding over the sensitive skin of her ribs. She wrapped her arms around his neck to take him deeper until pain shot through her injured hand. “Oww.”

He broke the kiss and rose up to stare down at her, the desire in his dark eyes turning to concern. “That’s not the response I’d expected. Are you all right?”

“I bumped my hand against your shoulder.” She couldn’t tell if his kiss had left her lightheaded or if it was the aftermath of jarring the stitches in her hand. She wriggled back against the arm of the couch and sat up with a heavy sigh. “As Sarah would say, that’s such a buzzkill.”

Chapter Ten

Buzzkill was right.

Jordan pulled in a long, slow breath to quiet the jungle drums beating inside his head. He swung his legs around, sat up, and leaned over to turn on the lamp. “Did you rip out your stitches?” He should be thinking about Tilly instead of his dick, but damn, he could still feel the silk of her skin against his fingertips.

“I don’t think so. It just hurts like the dickens.”

He held out his hand.

She put her good one into his to steady herself as she sat up. “Sorry about the, well, you know.” Her face turned a lovely shade of pink in the lamplight. The sparkle in her blue eyes fueled his stampeding libido. She cradled her bandaged hand in the crook of her arm.

“No problem.” That was a damned lie. His body ached with frustration, yet the grimace on her face, the white lines around her lips, told him the painkillers were history. He got up from the couch, hoping a little distance would cool him down. He walked over to the nightstand and picked up a small white paper bag he’d left there earlier in the afternoon. “Let me get you something to take the edge off.”

“Not if it’s the stuff from the hospital.” She shook her head. “I don’t want another episode like this mornin’.”

He chuckled and sat beside her. “It’s all over-the-counter stuff. I didn’t know if you prefer aspirin or not.” The bag rustled with his attempts to fish around for the pain-killer. He closed his fingers over the bottle, pulled it out, and gave it a shake. “Here it is.” He looked inside the bag at the various remedies he’d had the concierge pick up at a local pharmacy. “Plus some ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and last but not least—” he rummaged in the bottom of the sack, pushing other items he’d ordered from the nearest drug store “—we have naproxen sodium.” Bottles and boxes were lined up on the coffee table, along with an assortment of bandages and tape. He crumpled the bag into a ball and pitched it into the waste can with picture perfect precision. “What suits your fancy?”

“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 with 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.