Free The Secret of the Villa Mimosa by Elizabeth Adler Page B

sense she was smiling. “Tomorrow,” he said. “And anywhere as long as it’s not McDonald’s.”
    She laughed. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “Pick me up at seven-thirty.”
    “Seven-thirty,” he said, uncrossing his fingers, marveling at his good luck because he hadn’t really believed she would say yes.
    “And, Mahoney… it won’t be McDonald’s, so try to look decent for once, will you?”
    He laughed out loud as he put down the phone.
    He rang her doorbell promptly at seven-thirty the next evening. She opened it and stood silently, taking in his smart dark suit, white shirt, and flamboyant red-flowered silk tie. His dark hair was still wet from the shower and showed track marks from the comb. If she’d wanted, she could have seen her face in the shineof his shoes. He was clutching a bunch of flowers in one hand and a small brown paper bag in the other.
    “You look like a cop pretending to be a solid citizen,” she said, amused.
    “Yeah. Well, you’re softening up a little yourself,” he replied, grinning as he saw her blush. Her dark hair was loose tonight instead of in its usual tight knot. She was wearing black as always, but this time it was a gauzy low-cut dress with a slinky skirt, and she smelled of lilies and gardenias.
    His eyes admired her as he handed her the bouquet. “You smell better than nature’s roses,” he said.
    “It’s Bellodgia,” she replied coolly. “A bit old-fashioned, but it suited my mood tonight. And thank you for the beautiful roses.”
    They were pink with a hint of cream, and their velvet petals were just beginning to unfurl.
    “They’re called Oceana,” he said. “I thought they were like garden roses, a bit old-fashioned. Like your perfume. Seems I got the mood right for the night.”
    He gave the paper bag to the cat, who was wrapping itself around his legs, purring. “And this is for young Coco. To keep her busy while the doc is out.”
    They laughed as the kitten swiftly tore out the catnip mouse and tossed it into the air, pouncing after it.
    Phyl offered him a glass of champagne.
    “A wonderful choice,” he said, tasting it appreciatively. “And not obvious. Laurent Perrier is a fine old house, and its Grand Siècle ranks with the best.”
    Phyl stared at him with astonishment. “Is there no end to your surprises, Mahoney?” she demanded. “I would not have recognized Grand Siècle in a blind tasting. How on earth did you?”
    He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just one of those things they teach you at cop school.” He grinned teasingly. “No, I didn’t mean that. I spent a year in France after college, part of it in Epernay picking grapes. Every bar and café sells champagne as a matter of course, so I gotto taste all the small growers. I liked it so much I made a point of visiting all the grand houses. I have a reasonable palate and I knew what I liked, and this happened to be one of them.” He shrugged again. “So you see. No mystery. Just a lucky shot on your part that you picked my favorite.”
    “I almost wish you were doing the cooking,” she said wistfully. “You’re hard to beat.”
    “Anytime you say, Doc. Just whistle and I’ll be there, trying out my Italian specialties on you. Marcella Hazan’s wild mushroom risotto, Roger Vergé’s Petites Niçoise farcis and pistou soup, my mama’s old-fashioned vegetarian lasagna. And the best desserts this side of Rome.”
    “Tiramisu?” she asked jokingly. It was one of her favorites.
    “Hate the stuff, but if you like it, Doc, you shall have it.”
    “Not tonight,” she said, collecting her jacket. “And it’s getting late.”
    Mahoney’s eyebrows rose when he saw the long black limousine waiting at the curb. She threw him a mocking grin as the driver held the door open. “You didn’t think I was going to let you drink and drive, did you? After all, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for your not becoming mayor.”
    He glanced apprehensively over his shoulder before getting in