Free No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (No Such Thing As...: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) by Shelly Fredman

concealing rock-hard abs and a .38 caliber pistol tucked neatly against the small of his back. He was alone, but he wouldn’t be for long. Woman couldn’t help but flock to him. I shrank back against a potted plant, trying to catch my breath, which had been knocked out of me by the unexpected thrill of seeing him.
    Nicholas Santiago was the double whammy—transcendentally beautiful and a certified Bad Boy. It doesn’t get any sexier than that. Nick and I met two months ago, and he’s been bailing me out of trouble ever since. Ironically, the only thing he couldn’t save me from was him.
    It’s not like he hadn’t warned me.
“I’m not monogamous and I’m not permanent.”
    And yet I’d jumped in looking. That night, the earth moved and my heart stopped and by the time it got going again, he’d moved on.
    Last we’d spoken was about a month ago. John was there the day Nick had phoned, and he’d captured the aftermath with his Canon. Nick called to say he was going out of town on business. I didn’t ask what kind of business. I’m sure I didn’t want to know. If I believed a quarter of the rumors about Nick, I’d be scared. I believed all of them.
    It was good that he was leaving. It would give me time to sort out my feelings. But the truth was I already knew, even if I couldn’t admit it. Only now there was no room for denial. It was written all over my face in the photo. I was in love with the guy. Oh crap.
    “Can I help you, ma’am?” A busboy stood beside me, balancing a tray full of dishware in his hands.
    “No. Shh. I’m fine.” I angled myself further behind the tree as a woman approached Nick and greeted him, European style, with two kisses, placed on either side of his cheek.
Pretentious twit. I’ll bet she’s not even really French. I hate her.
    The busboy didn’t move.
    “What? You’ve never seen a patron hide behind foliage before? I’m
kidding.
I lost an earring.” Quickly I bent down to retrieve the non-existent accessory. I couldn’t let him see me. Not like this.
If I could just find a way out of here… my meal hasn’t come yet, so it wouldn’t exactly be a “dine and dash”…
    “Hello, Angel.”
    Uh oh. Could I pretend I didn’t hear him? I guess not.
I stood slowly, the scotch on an empty stomach wreaking havoc with my equilibrium. “Oh, Nick, hi. Fancy meeting you here.”
Fancy meeting you here? What am I, Amish?
    Nick leaned over to give me a friendly peck on the cheek, and I took a wobbly step back, knocking into the busboy. The busboy teetered backwards, flapping his hands in a futile attempt to catch the falling plates. They made a sickening crash when they hit the tile floor.
    “Um, sorry.”
God, this couldn’t be any more humiliating. Oh wait. It could.
Nick’s date joined us behind the tree.
Please don’t introduce us, oh please don’t introduce us.
    “Brandy, this is Pilar. Pilar, Brandy.”
    Note to self: Change name to something exotic. Possibly Tanisha.
    We did the whole nice to meet you routine and then mercifully, Pilar remembered a pressing engagement and left. While they were doing their double-cheeked goodbye kiss, I flagged down the waiter and handed him my credit card, asking him to pack my meal to go.
    “Do you have to rush off?” Nick turned back to me, his voice soothing, his look penetrating and for a moment I forgot that I’d just seen a co-worker dead—not to mention naked and that I had vomit in my hair.
    “Well, uh…”
    He guided me towards the bar. “Two coffees, please.”
    Oh, I get it. He thinks I’m drunk… which I am. Unhhh! There he goes bailing me out again! Does he have to be so damn gracious about it? And while I was on the subject of rhetorical questions, why was I feeling so angry with him?
    The waiter came over and handed me my food.
    “Gee, Nick,” I said, backing my way towards the door, “it’s been great seeing you. Well, take care.” I gave him a little salute with my free hand and then wondered why I