Free Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense) by Dyann Love Barr Page A

incredulous and amused at the same time.
    “About what? Kansas City, or my hometown?”
    “Both.”
    “God’s own truth.” She held up her hand as if she were taking an oath in court. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
    “Your bio says Lewistown.” The challenge in his voice would normally set her off, but she was in no mood to fight with him.
    “Ruby’s restaurant is in Possum Trot. She taught me everything I know about cookin’, but I had to learn to stand on my own. I opened the first Tilly’s Table in Lewistown.” Fatigue bore down on her; the events of the day added to the overpowering heaviness in her heart. She gave him a halfhearted smile. “Who would’ve ever thought a strawberry-rhubarb pie would get me on national television and in the middle of a murder case?”
    “I’m sure Hirschberg will let us know what he wants us to do next.” A frown drew his black brows together. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his watch. “It’s getting late. I need to make some calls to the executive chefs in my restaurants and check up on things.”
    “That makes two of us. I’m havin’ some renovations done to my restaurants. There’s a dispute goin’ on between the contractor and the architect about lightin’. They better not get sassy with me, or I may have to knock some heads together.”
    They walked together toward the elevators. The crowd from the convention made the wait to get a car feel like a lifetime, and each minute extended into an eternity with more eager convention goers asking for autographs.
    One of the chefs handed Tilly a copy of her book. “I would’ve killed the dude if he’d said the same thing about me.”
    “I didn’t kill him.” She scrawled her signature across the inside page of the book and handed it back. “Seein’ him dead was bad enough.”
    She should’ve kept her mouth shut. The comment invited excited questions and chatter from the crowd, their bodies pressing closer and closer. Once the elevator doors opened, Jordan rushed her inside. He placed her against the back wall and stood between her and the people who squeezed inside.
    The air was stifling. Her heart sped up with each stale breath. The panic she’d felt earlier in the evening came back a hundredfold. Never once in her life had she had a bout of claustrophobia. Cold sweat beaded her forehead. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she tried to stay calm. It was a bad time to learn she had a fear of tight spaces.
    She focused on the numbers above the elevator door. One by one they climbed higher, closer to her suite and freedom. She was practically panting by the time Jordan pushed her out the door onto her floor.
    “Are you okay?”
    She would have laughed at his obvious question if the world hadn’t turned gray and tilted in a most unusual way. He scooped her into his arms.
    “Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit.” His muttered curses filtered through the fog clouding her mind. He might be Satan himself, but she found the strength in his arms surprisingly comforting. It added to the floating feeling and giddiness swirling inside her head.
    He smelled of woods and spice. She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and caught the enticing, warm scent of his skin. Her heart raced, but this time she craved the closeness. Fantasies of him, stark naked and carrying her off to bed, stole her breath.
    She did the one thing she hadn’t done since she was thirteen and had her first crush on a boy. No-nonsense Tilly Danes giggled like a little girl.
    “What’s so funny?” He frowned down at her. He hefted her a little bit higher and gave a small grunt as he walked toward her room. “You may be petite, but I swear you have a ton of lead in your butt.” He took a few more steps. “This looks a lot easier in the movies.”
    Her romantic bubble burst with a loud pop .
    She wriggled in his arms. “Your bedside manner sucks.” His remark about her butt had hit home. “Anyone ever