Like a true gentleman, Conrad held up the rope that cordoned off the area designated for volunteers and wait staff. She ducked inside, and he followed her through. Aww. He strode over to pull the chair at her table. Even sweeter!
“Thank you.” Jane eased down. Hmm. She should have added a cushion, considering she’d be spending the next two hours sitting here. Or longer! Depended on the winner and how long it took them to unravel the (brilliant) mystery.
At least she had a gorgeous view of the reflection area—the perfect distraction from Conrad’s tantalizing nearness. A magnificent wisteria tree stretched long branches over a circle of benches. Beyond them, a handful of shop owners had set up booths. Other stalls lined the cobblestone walkway leading toward every subdivision of the cemetery. All but the former business center, near where the “murder” took place. According to Grandma Lily, that one-story Victorian cottage once acted as the hub for Garden of Memories. Now ivy grew in abandon over the yellowing paint and caving roof.
One day, Jane hoped to raise enough money to restore the building to its original glory.
“Ignoring me won’t do you any good. Me and my buns are still here.” Conrad moved to the front of the table, flattened his palms on the surface and leaned down. When the heat cranked up in her cheeks, he grinned, revealing straight, white teeth. “Do I need to give you another reason not to fall for me?”
To help her avoid the curse, he enjoyed teasing her with “terrible” facts about himself. She should say no—those facts only made her adore—like him more. But the game was too fun to stop.
“Yes. Absolutely.” She nodded with enthusiasm. “Make it the worst one yet, please.”
“All right. Here goes.” His amber eyes sparkled. “I don’t care how toilet paper hangs.”
She gasped. Actually, genuinely gasped. “Conrad! That’s insanity. There is a correct way and a wrong way, and that is irrefutable.”
His grin returned, only it was the lopsided one she found irresistible. “I better go. Do me a favor and try not to objectify me as I walk away.”
“Yes. Well,” she responded primly. “I can’t make any promises on that score.”
He snorted, then reached out to ghost his knuckles along the curve of her jaw. Her lips parted at the first brush of contact, and her breath hitched. His amusement evaporated, revealing something achingly tender.
Uh-oh. They were having a moment, weren’t they?
Lingering, he searched her gaze with his own. The rest of the world vanished, and she gulped. I do not love him. I don’t. I won’t. Getting her heart broken when things fell apart was one thing. Letting someone break her darling Rolex’s heart was quite another. What if her perfect little feline came to depend on Conrad, then boom, the special agent was gone?
“I want to take you on a date tomorrow night,” he intoned.
The moisture in her mouth dried. “A date date? As in, just the two of us?” Instead of sharing a meal at her place with the rest of the gang? AKA Fiona, Beau, his pals, and the sheriff. Team Truth, Jane liked to call them.
“Yes. A date date. Just the two of us. Think about it. Then say yes out loud.” Eyes twinkling again, he tapped his ear, reminding her that he would be listening. “I’ll come by and check on you in about an hour. We can discuss restaurants.” With that, he walked off, leaving her alone with her thoughts. And a bout of panic.
Not that she planned to indulge either one. Or think about dating. The people who’d stood off to the side, waiting for his departure, swarmed her. She answered question after question with few pauses. Time evaporated. She knew this for a fact because anytime she glanced at the clock, at least ten minutes had passed in a matter of seconds.
Exactly one hour later, Conrad returned as promised. The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
“I haven’t used the word yes even once,” she rushed out.
“Not true. You just did.” His eyes were twinkling again. “So, where would you like to eat?”
“I—” A blood-curdling scream suddenly pierced the night, and every cell in Jane’s body vibrated with alarm.
She groaned. Trouble had just found her, it seemed.
CHAPTER TWO
“If you’re not lying, you’re not trying.”
Anthony “Tony” Miller, attorney at law
In a thundering flap of wings, birds took flight from multiple trees. Around Jane, conversations ceased, and people went still. The only movement came from flashing lightning bugs.
Acid pooled in her stomach. That hadn’t been a startled, playful, or victorious sound. No, terror had filled every nuance. “What in the world?” She jumped to her feet, the fringe on her dress tapping against her knees.
Guests started laughing. A few even clapped and cheered.
They thought the scream was part of the event?
A line formed between Conrad’s eyes. He strode around the table to stand beside her. “I read your script, but I don’t recall an impromptu shriek.”
“I know.” Jane tightened her grip on the pen she held. “I think something’s wrong.” There hadn’t been a second scream, at least. That was a good sign, right?
The corners of his mouth turned down. “I’m sure Beau and his guys are on it. But, considering the murderous nature of the townsfolk, I better go check it out.”
Her breath released in a rush, and she kissed his cheek. “Yes, please, and thank you.”
“For you, anything. Stay here. Please.” Expression intent, he lightly pinched her chin, angled her face the way he wanted it, and kissed her mouth. An action she hadn’t known she’d needed until just then.
As he pivoted and stalked off, her hand fluttered to her throat. Returning to the seat, she muttered, “No reason to panic.” For all she knew, someone had solved the case super early, discovered Beau’s body, and witnessed Fiona absconding with a stolen bag of fake gold. Yes, yes, that must be what happened.
A crackling sound rose from Jane’s purse. Confused, she dug inside–duh! The walkie-talkie. Beau had insisted all cast members carry a two-way radio in case of an emergency.
Heart thumping, she lifted the device to her mouth. “Yes. Hello?”
“Jane!” Fiona whisper-yelled, the words drenched in horror. “Jane, there’s been a murder. A real one! There’s blood. And a needle!”
Blood? Needle? “What?!” This could not be happening. Not again. Not on this special night of celebration and fun. She’d taken every precaution.
“I’m so sorry,” her friend rushed on. “I shouldn’t have left the Valley of the Dolls, but Beau never showed up. I went looking for him and…and…that’s when I found it.” Her volume dropped to a whisper without the yell. “The body. He’s one hundred percent dead, Jane. I checked for a pulse. You’re the expert in such matters. What am I supposed to do now?”
Wait, wait, wait. “Who’s dead?” Not Beau. Please, please not Beau.
The mayor approached the information table, saying, “Can you tell me where–”
“I’m on my way,” she told Fiona, ignoring him. Stay put? No. As the mayor sputtered, Jane shot to her feet. With only the walkie talkie in hand, she dashed through the cemetery, taking the same path as Conrad, her high heels clacking on the cobblestone walkway. After stumbling twice, she kicked off her shoes, uncaring when little rocks dug into her soles. “Fee? Are you there? Where are you?”