Deadly Notions - By Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page 0,30
Samuelson was such an amazing designer.”
“It matters naught as long as you keep the passion alive, dear, remember that—”
Breathing in her ear brought her focus back to the phone. “Regina?”
“One minute, I’m not ready yet.”
She moved her mouth to the side and made a face at Leona.
“Where’s this relationship-wrecker staying while she’s in Sweet Briar?”
Tori tapped her fingers on the desk, her attention caught between the breathing in her ear and the challenging set to Leona’s brows. “The Sweet Briar Inn, where else? But, really, Leona, what difference does it make?”
“She’s too close.”
Regina returned to the line. “I’m here now. My dinner arrived a full five minutes sooner than it was supposed to, otherwise we’d have been done with this charade of a conversation before it arrived.”
Charade?
“That’s fine.” She glanced back toward the bracelet on her assistant’s desk. “I was just saying that I see your bracelet right now. It’s on Nina’s desk.”
“Wonderful. I’ll send someone by to get it within the hour.”
“It’ll be here.” The click of the phone in her ear signaled the end to their call and she returned the receiver to its base. “There’s certainly no love loss there.”
Leona shrugged. “We threatened her employee and now that employee is dead. Can you blame her?”
“We didn’t do it, Leona.” She sat back down in her chair and released a louder than intended sigh.
“Someone did, dear.”
“Can we talk about something else? Please? My head is starting to pound.”
“We’re running out of topics, dear.”
“I know.” She grabbed the cookie off her napkin and broke a piece off the end. Popping it into her mouth, she chewed and swallowed in rapid succession. “What do I do, Leona?”
Leona ran her index finger along the edge of the desk then held it upward. At its relatively clean appearance she nodded in appreciation. “Do about what, dear?”
She swallowed back the lump that threatened to render her speechless. “Milo.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about that.”
“I didn’t.”
The woman sniffed. “I see. Well, you can make your next date something special, something extra creative.”
“Creative,” she whispered.
“I realize we’re limited on culture in this town but perhaps you could call on the circle for a little help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Margaret Louise could whip up one of her culinary delights. You could borrow Rose’s china. You could—”
“Extra creative,” she repeated as images began to flood her mind.
“That’s right, dear.”
Creative . . .
“But—” She stopped, squared her shoulders and then forged ahead, the question needing to be asked even if Leona wasn’t the one to answer. “What happens if he falls for her again?”
“He won’t.” Leona’s chin rose upward. “Because we won’t let him.”
Chapter 11
She knew she was merely caving, letting Leona induced fear rule her actions, but she didn’t really see any other way. Beth Samuelson had her sights set on Milo. Of that, Tori was virtually certain. And while her mind was just as certain about Milo’s feelings for her, her heart was squirming just a little.
Okay, maybe a lot.
Perhaps some of it was the sucker punch Jeff had dealt her during their engagement party, his presence in the reception hall’s coat closet with a mutual friend just about as humiliating as it came. Perhaps it was a sign of even bigger confidence issues than she’d realized. Or perhaps it truly was the effects of Leona Elkin.
But, regardless of what it was, she was prepared to fight for what she wanted. And what she wanted was Milo Wentworth.
Pulling the oven door open, she backed up to peek inside. The tantalizing aroma of the beef brisket wafted through the opening. “Mmmm, perfect.”
“Do I get to know what it is you’re making?”
She smiled to herself as she lifted out the tray and set it on top of the stove. “When I call you to the table,” she responded.
The dinner had been a last-minute idea, the handcrafted invitation she taped to the steering wheel of his car close on its heels.
“Do you have any idea how cool it was to find that note like that?”
Carefully, she unwrapped the foil package that housed the brisket, the trapped heat warming her cheeks. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I loved it.”
Point One—me.
“In fact, I was so engrossed in your note I didn’t notice the photograph Beth had slipped into the passenger seat sometime during the school day.”
She stopped, mid-fork-poke. “Photograph?”
“Yeah. Just some picture from a school formal we went to together my junior year.” His voice hitched a bit indicating he’d risen from the sofa and was walking around the