Page 72

“And here’s some light reading.” Elodie plucks something from her purse that looks suspiciously like a manual before thrusting it into my hands. “You can thank me later.”
“And the next murder is mine,” Tinsley announces as if she’s calling dibs on dessert. “So, you two can focus on whatever it is you’re focusing on.” She frowns my way because she knows full well what Ransom will be focusing on—and it won’t be her.
“There better not be another murder,” Wes growls.
“Although if there is”—Bess points my way—“try to make it happen near the buffet again. I’ve never seen Nettie move so fast.”
“You try watching perfectly good donuts roll to their doom,” Nettie defends her love of all things deep-fried. “It was likeSophie’s Choicebut with baked goods.”
“All right. Enough talk about donuts,” Wes says. “Inside, you two,” he orders, giving us a gentle push. “And don’t come out until England. That’s the captain’s order.”
Elodie, Bess, and Nettie all shout goodbye and give a wild wave as the door closes behind us with a definitive click, and I hear the lock engage.
Through the door, we can hear our friends begin to drift away, with Elodie’s voice saying something about the proper use of the room service cart.
“I have an inkling of where she might have been going with that,” I say as I wrap my arms around my debonair, hotter-than-a-wildfire husband.
“Oh, do you?” He tightens his grasp around my waist and moves us to a rhythm all our own. “And where was that?”
“I’m better at showing than telling,” I say, nodding to the cart to our right, already loaded with a bucket of champagne on ice and a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, kissing a line up my neck. “Alone at last,” he whispers the words hot, right into my ear. “No ghosts, no killers, no well-meaning, donut-wielding friends.”
“Speaking of donuts.” I hold up the pink sticky treat covered with sprinkles—a rather decent amount if I do say so myself.
Ransom growls as he takes a gentle bite out of my neck. “Are you planning on sharing?”
“Yes, but I’d hate to leave a trail of crumbs in this luxury suite.” I give a little wink. “This is the part where the rolling cart comes in.”
He ticks his head to the side and looks vexingly handsome in the process. “Nice segue.”
“This night just gets nicer,” I say, leading him by the tie as I walk backward to the cart in question. “But first it’s going to get very,verynaughty.”
“Well, well, Mrs. Baxter, this might be your most arresting performance yet.”
“No promises.” I grin up at him. “But I think we can find plenty of ways to pass the time until England.”
His kiss tells me he agrees completely. After all, some mysteries are better left unsolved, but this one—this thing between us—is worth investigating thoroughly. Very thoroughly indeed.
And we do just that.