Free Blood Ties in Chef Voleur by Mallory Kane Page B

the notes and dates and comments would coalesce into something innocuous. But when she turned a page and saw the name Armand Broussard, and below it the charges against him, then below that, INNOCENT!!! in block letters, she knew there were no innocuous explanations.
    Then, when she saw the very last page, there was no denying the truth. It was plain to see. And it hurt. The last page was where Jack had experimented with new names until he’d decided on Jack Bush.
    Jacques Broussard.
    Jack Broussard. Jack Bruce. Jack Bushman.
    Jack Bush. Jack Bush.
    Cara Lynn still felt the chill that had flash-frozen her heart. She’d dropped the notebook and covered her mouth with her hands, doing her best to hold in a shocked scream. Her husband was Armand Broussard’s grandson.
    Jacques Broussard. Her husband Jack was Jacques Broussard. His grandfather had killed hers. Jack had found her, studied her, seduced her into a whirlwind marriage so he could— what? What exactly did he want so badly that had required making her fall in love with him and marry him?
    * * *
    B Y THE TIME Jack got back from Biloxi that evening and made it to the gallery, it was late and the guests were thinning out. The only hors d’oeuvres left were little pigs in blankets and the only drinks were a mint-julep punch and a chardonnay which had grown warm. He bypassed the food and drink and headed toward Cara Lynn, who did not look happy. He wondered if the showing had gone really badly, or maybe she was getting a migraine. Deep inside, though, a queasy dread told him he knew what the real problem was.
    He stepped up to her and touched the small of her back. She jumped slightly but didn’t acknowledge his presence in any other way.
    “Sorry I was late,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize they were going to take the meeting through dinner. But the good news is, I think I’m going to get a huge contract to design their new casino.”
    Cara Lynn smiled and nodded to the couple who wandered away while Jack was speaking. She didn’t acknowledge him.
    “Cara, hon, are you all right? How did the show go?”
    She nodded distractedly. “Fine,” she said tightly. “I sold three pieces. What more could I ask?”
    Jack studied her. Her mouth was compressed, her shoulders were rigid. He could feel the tension running through the muscles of her back. She was seriously upset. He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her closer, but she neatly extracted herself from his grasp as her mother approached.
    “What a wonderful show, Cara Lynn! You and Jack are coming by the house for coffee, aren’t you?”
    “No, Mom,” Cara Lynn said tiredly. “I’m exhausted and I’m sure Jack is, too. He just managed to get here from Biloxi, I believe.” With that, she shot Jack a look that should have fried him on the spot.
    “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get home.” He gave Cara Lynn’s mother a nod. “I apologize, Mrs. Delancey. We’ll see you another night. I’ll look forward to it.”
    He led Cara Lynn out and asked her if she would be okay driving her car home. “If not, I’ll drive us and I can get someone to bring the car out tomorrow.”
    “I’m fine,” Cara Lynn said archly. “Believe me, I am not drunk.”
    “I didn’t say you were. You just told your mother you were too exhausted to spend half an hour with her.”
    “So?”
    Jack sent her a questioning look, but she just turned on her heel and walked to her car. He watched until she pulled out of the parking lot, then he got into his car and followed her to their apartment.
    All the way home, he tried to convince himself that there were all kinds of reasons for her behavior. It wasn’t necessarily because she’d found his notepad and read it. She could have a headache and be truly exhausted. She could be coming down with something. She could have gotten angry at him for a dozen reasons that might not make any sense to him. But he wasn’t fooling himself. There was only one reason she’d look