Free Crepe Factor by Laura Childs Page B

it had been raised to use as a semi-deadly weapon. “You scared me to death.”
    Quigg held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
    â€œWell, you did.” Carmela felt angry and cross and didn’t care if he knew it. “What are you doing here, anyway? Besides lurking in the shadows?”
    â€œI’ve been waiting to talk to you. I was hoping the boyfriend didn’t come in for a nightcap.”
    She shook her head. “Little chance of that. Babcock’s been totally preoccupied all night long. Trying to puzzle out Martin Lash’s murder and, I suppose, clear your name.”
    â€œSomehow, I doubt that clearing my good name is his main mission in life,” Quigg said. “I happen to know I’m still very high on his suspect list. Probably up there in the top two or three.”
    â€œAnd you’re doing nothing to help yourself,” Carmela said. “Babcock found out that you had Lash’s Glutton for Punishment reviews taken down. He views it as questionable, suspicious behavior.”
    â€œWrong,” Quigg said. “It’s simply smart business. I’ve got to distance myself from that idiot Lash as much as possible. His ravingly bad reviews could’ve killed me, especially where my new wines are concerned. I’m counting on this year’s holiday sales to really cement my name in the wine industry.”
    â€œHow can you think about business when you’re suspected of murder?”
    Quigg gave her one of his devastating smiles. “It’s easy. I compartmentalize.”
    Somehow, the notion was appealing to Carmela. “I wish I could learn how to do that.”
    Quigg moved a step closer to her. “It just takes a little practice. Besides, I didn’t kill Martin Lash. I’m innocent. And, my dear Carmela, you know that to be a fact.”
    Before Carmela could say a single word, before she even knew what was happening, Quigg leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. She tilted her head back, about to lodge a formal protest. That’s when his lips touched hers and, even though she knew it was the worst thing she could possibly do, she melted into his arms and kissed him back.
    Oh no! Oh no!
her mind screamed even as she wondered what had come over her and realized that she was quivering all the way down to her toes.
    â€œYou’re an angel,” Quigg whispered, his breath hot and urgent and tickling as his lips moved down to brush gently against her neck. Then he released his grip and slipped away into the darkness.
    Like Lot’s wife turned to salt, Carmela stood there staring into the darkness.
No
, she thought, still feeling the thrill of his lips pressed hard against hers.
I’m not an angel. And I definitely am in big trouble.

Chapter 7
    C ARMELA and Ava strolled leisurely down Royal Street. It was just past noon on Sunday and tourists as well as locals were out in full force. The jostling crowds were enjoying the shaved ice vendors, rides in horse-drawn jitneys, and superlative window shopping. After all, only the finest sterling silver goblets, antique jewelry, and eighteenth-century oil paintings were on display in the upscale antique shops on Royal Street.
    â€œEveryone’s out so early this morning,” Ava said. She wore a purple tweed jacket and pencil skirt with a black blouse that had tiny pearl buttons down the front. It didn’t take a close inspection to see that Ava had neglected to close most of the buttons when she’d gotten dressed.
    â€œHoney, it is early,” Carmela said. “But it’s early afternoon.”
    Ava stifled a yawn. “I guess it just feels like morning because I had such a late night. After the Reveillon dinner, Harrison and I went to Dr. Boogie’s and knocked back a few more pops. Then we listened to some hot jazz . . . and went back to my place for . . . you