Free Laced with Poison by Meg London Page A

She and Brian followed signs down a lushly carpeted corridor to
     the Grand Ballroom.
    The room had expansive windows that looked out over beautifully manicured lawns and
     gardens and an enormous crystal chandelier that was suspended from the cathedral ceiling.
     It would have been impressive under any circumstances,but today it had been turned into a fantasyland of trees outlined in twinkling lights,
     flickering candles and luscious bouquets of flowers.
    Soon the newly married couple had been introduced, the first course served and plenty
     of bubbly champagne poured. The band started to play a song that had been popular
     when Emma and Brian were in high school. Brian looked at her and raised one eyebrow.
     “Want to dance?”
    “Sure.” Emma hadn’t been dancing in ages, and she felt her spirits lift to the beat
     of the music.
    Brian was a smooth dancer but without being a show-off. Emma was sorry when the song
     ended and segued into a slow number that had been playing on the radio recently. She
     was surprised when Brian held his hand out.
    “Want to give this one a try?”
    Emma gladly accepted and slid into his arms. Up close, she could smell a hint of his
     aftershave and the scent of his freshly starched shirt. It was intoxicating. Brian
     tightened his arm and pulled her closer, and a sigh escaped Emma’s lips. It felt so
     right. She let her head drop against his shoulder as they swayed in time to the music.
     The song ended, and Brian didn’t let go. The next song was also a slow one, and Emma
     relished the extra few minutes wrapped in Brian’s arms.
    But eventually the song ended, and they drew apart. As they made their way back to
     their table, the band leader announced that the bride would be throwing her bouquet.
     Emma froze. Should she go up with all the other single women? What would Brian think?
     On the other hand, it might seem churlish of her to stay in her seat.
    She was hesitating when a crowd of women surged past her. It was easier to join the
     throng heading toward the front of the ballroom. Emma made sure to position herself
     inthe back. She didn’t want there to be any chance she would catch the bouquet. The
     mere thought made her face go hot.
    With an appropriate amount of fanfare, and a burst of festive music from the band,
     the bride launched her flowers high into the air. Emma watched, panicked, as the bouquet
     scaled the heads of the crowd and headed straight toward her. Her first instinct was
     to duck, but she wasn’t fast enough. She put up a hand to ward off the floral missile
     but ended up catching it instead.
    “Well done,” Brian said when Emma returned to their table. He pointed toward the flowers.
     “Doesn’t that mean you’ll be the next one to get married?”
    Emma felt her face burn. She quickly put the bouquet under the table by her feet.
     “Just a silly old superstition.” She laughed to show Brian just how silly she thought
     it was. The heat in her face lingered, and she fanned herself with her hand. “Is it
     hot in here?”
    “I’ll say.” Brian looked around. “People have been going out on the terrace. Want
     to see if it’s any cooler out there?”
    “Sure.”
    They wove their way among the round, linen-covered tables toward the French doors
     leading outside. Brian twisted the gold lever on the nearest one and pulled it open.
     A welcoming rush of cool air enveloped Emma.
    “Oh, that feels good.”
    They stepped outside. The terrace was lit by tiny white lights wound in the surrounding
     bushes and a few strategically placed spots, leaving pockets of shadowy darkness.
     Brian led her toward one of the less well lit patches. He loosened his tie.
    “This is much better. I could hardly breathe in there.”
    They stood in their darkened corner listening to thehaunting hoot of an owl in the distance. The breeze had an edge of coolness to it,
     and Emma shivered suddenly.
    “You’re cold,” Brian said. His voice had a note of concern to