Free One Spoonful of Trouble (Felicity Bell Book 1) by Nic Saint Page A

course, his aversion to the kind of hard-hearted females that populated his world.
    Felicity Bell, on the other hand, possessed, hidden beneath a layer of pure Kevlar, a tender heart. He’d suspected it from the first, and after the display of compassion she’d shown at the hospital he was now quite sure of it.
    But then had entered the nurse with the revelation Felicity had used his head for skillet practice and he hadn’t known what to think. Here was a girl who violently hit him over the head one minute and gazed lovingly into his eyes the next.
    It was enough to confuse any man and it had certainly confused him. Even to the point that he’d had a few harsh words to say on the subject. The confession, coming so soon upon the first kiss they’d shared—one he’d hoped as they were sharing it would be the first of many—had been quite heart-wrenching.
    Watching her leave the room, her head held high but with that touch of sadness in her eyes, relief had quickly been replaced with remorse. He’d made a mistake, he felt. Had been too quick to point out her faults.
    Hadn’t she apologized while sitting next to him on the bed? Hadn’t she shown regret for the rash act? Of course she had. And how had he responded? By calling her a menace and throwing her out of the room.
    The moment he’d been discharged from the hospital therefore, he’d returned to Stanwyck Street, fully intent on setting the record straight by apologizing profusely and asking her out to dinner.
    And it was then that he saw two familiar figures sidling up to her door.
    Jerry Vale and Johnny Carew were two of Chazz Falcone’s thugs. He should know, for he’d dealt with them before. The moment Falcone had learned about the revealing series of articles he was planning on him, he’d sent Jerry and Johnny round to pressure him into thinking twice about the project.
    The fact that they were in Happy Bays came as no surprise to him, given that Falcone was not a man who gave up easily. But why were they making house calls at Felicity’s address?
    It struck him as sinister, to say the least. Suspicious, even. What was that lovely baker’s connection to a known scum-bucket like Chazz Falcone?
    He’d been working the man’s piece for weeks now, digging up all kinds of dirt on the tycoon, until the call had come from Suggs that his employment had been terminated. When he’d asked Suggs if this termination had anything to do with the Falcone thing, the irascible editor had curtly responded with his patented ‘no comment’, which had practically been an admission that it had.
    No matter. He would rework the series into a hard-hitting book, and after it had reached the number one position on the New York Times bestseller list, he’d have his pick of jobs, he was sure of it. Perhaps even the New York Times itself would come knocking on his door.
    He watched Jerry and Johnny enter Felicity’s cozy little place and frowned darkly. His reporter’s instincts told him something was seriously rotten in the town of Happy Bays and he would get to the bottom of it no matter what.
    He hardened his heart, therefore banishing all romantic notions of Felicity, and replaced them with the barracuda-like determination that had served him so well as a reporter.
    He got out of the car and made his way over to the small strip of land that divided the block of houses from the next. Quickly moving along the path, he found himself gazing down a small stretch of backyards. Calculating which one belonged to Felicity and Alice, he glanced up at the second floor. The curtains hadn’t been drawn and he could see the lithe figure of Alice passing by the window. Bingo.
    Without further ado, he stepped over the small hedge that lined the garden, and took a firm grip on the drainpipe. Heaving himself up without effort, he made his way to the balcony, swung his leg over and pressed his back against the wall. Inching closer to the window, he eagerly placed his ear against the pane,