Read Online An Appointment With Murder by Jennifer L. Jennings;John Simon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer L. Jennings;John Simon
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conveniently neglected to mention that I had a charming, handsome, young guest at the house for dinner. My bad.
I returned to the kitchen just in time to see Max polishing off what was left of the wine. He seemed to be doing a good job of drowning his sorrows. I knew I had a quick decision to make. Was I going to encourage his progress down the path he was on or gather him up and send him on his way?
“So, Max, what do you think?” I asked, looking down at the empty glass in his hand.
“I think we need more wine,” he said, smiling up at me.
Wednesday, November 10
I reached over and silenced the snooze alarm, then sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, a throbbing pain at the base of my skull. I tried to recall the night before, how much wine I’d consumed. What had I been thinking? Had Max and I killed another bottle after the first? Had he driven home drunk?
I wandered out of the bedroom to check on Brian, realizing he must have already left for school, and saw Max lying on the couch, fast asleep by the sound of his snoring. He was supine, clothed, uncovered. I stood there watching him breathe, for some reason could not take my eyes off him. He looked peaceful, curly hair flattened on one side. Was the urge I fought to lean over and run my fingers through it a sweet, maternal one, I wondered, or something more?
Fortitude won out this time and I went into the kitchen and poured water into the coffee maker, adding a few extra tablespoons of grounds to the filter. As the coffee percolated, I chased three Advil with a large glass of water. Max walked in as I was pouring the first cup of java.
“Morning,” I said, with all the cheerfulness I could muster. “Need some of this stuff?” I held up my mug.
“Bless you,” he said, taking it from my hands. “And thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t attempt to drive last night,” I said, filling another mug for myself.
“Yeah. I was pretty out of it.”
“My memory of last night is a little fuzzy, especially after we commenced on the second bottle. What’d we talk about?”
“What didn’t we talk about?” he replied, laughing. “You were quite the jabber mouth. Wine for you is like truth serum.” His laughter revealed dimples.
“Did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“You were adorable.”
Adorable. What did he mean by that, I wondered?
“Do you have to work today?” I inquired.
“I’m between jobs at the moment. I sold my company a few months ago and I’m taking some time off.”
“Really? I’ve been thinking of making a career change as well. It just seems easier to stay with what I know than to risk everything to try something new. But the choice could be out of my hands,” I added, “if the two women I overheard at the gym alleging that I was selling hand jobs spread their gossip. It would ruin my business.”
“Or help it,” Max said with a straight face.
I punched him in the shoulder. “Seriously,” I mock pouted, “it’s not good.”
“Sorry. It’s just that you look so cute when you’re angry.”
I didn’t respond to that, and he must have sensed my discomfort because his demeanor changed.
“So, are you working today?” he asked, looking down into his mug.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I need to get ready. My first appointment is at nine.” I took another gulp of coffee and deposited my mug in the sink.
“Thanks again for dinner last night. And . . . thanks for your friendship.” He set his mug down, pushed his chair away from the table, and stood up. Then he stepped towards me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and pulled me in close. As his warm breath on my neck sent chills down my back, it occurred to me that I had known him for less than a week.
“Keep in touch,” I said, realizing how lame I sounded. I was at a loss for words.
“Sure,” he said, nodding, as he slowly released me, then turned to leave.
Watching him walk to my door, I felt a tightness in
I returned to the kitchen just in time to see Max polishing off what was left of the wine. He seemed to be doing a good job of drowning his sorrows. I knew I had a quick decision to make. Was I going to encourage his progress down the path he was on or gather him up and send him on his way?
“So, Max, what do you think?” I asked, looking down at the empty glass in his hand.
“I think we need more wine,” he said, smiling up at me.
Wednesday, November 10
I reached over and silenced the snooze alarm, then sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, a throbbing pain at the base of my skull. I tried to recall the night before, how much wine I’d consumed. What had I been thinking? Had Max and I killed another bottle after the first? Had he driven home drunk?
I wandered out of the bedroom to check on Brian, realizing he must have already left for school, and saw Max lying on the couch, fast asleep by the sound of his snoring. He was supine, clothed, uncovered. I stood there watching him breathe, for some reason could not take my eyes off him. He looked peaceful, curly hair flattened on one side. Was the urge I fought to lean over and run my fingers through it a sweet, maternal one, I wondered, or something more?
Fortitude won out this time and I went into the kitchen and poured water into the coffee maker, adding a few extra tablespoons of grounds to the filter. As the coffee percolated, I chased three Advil with a large glass of water. Max walked in as I was pouring the first cup of java.
“Morning,” I said, with all the cheerfulness I could muster. “Need some of this stuff?” I held up my mug.
“Bless you,” he said, taking it from my hands. “And thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t attempt to drive last night,” I said, filling another mug for myself.
“Yeah. I was pretty out of it.”
“My memory of last night is a little fuzzy, especially after we commenced on the second bottle. What’d we talk about?”
“What didn’t we talk about?” he replied, laughing. “You were quite the jabber mouth. Wine for you is like truth serum.” His laughter revealed dimples.
“Did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“You were adorable.”
Adorable. What did he mean by that, I wondered?
“Do you have to work today?” I inquired.
“I’m between jobs at the moment. I sold my company a few months ago and I’m taking some time off.”
“Really? I’ve been thinking of making a career change as well. It just seems easier to stay with what I know than to risk everything to try something new. But the choice could be out of my hands,” I added, “if the two women I overheard at the gym alleging that I was selling hand jobs spread their gossip. It would ruin my business.”
“Or help it,” Max said with a straight face.
I punched him in the shoulder. “Seriously,” I mock pouted, “it’s not good.”
“Sorry. It’s just that you look so cute when you’re angry.”
I didn’t respond to that, and he must have sensed my discomfort because his demeanor changed.
“So, are you working today?” he asked, looking down into his mug.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I need to get ready. My first appointment is at nine.” I took another gulp of coffee and deposited my mug in the sink.
“Thanks again for dinner last night. And . . . thanks for your friendship.” He set his mug down, pushed his chair away from the table, and stood up. Then he stepped towards me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and pulled me in close. As his warm breath on my neck sent chills down my back, it occurred to me that I had known him for less than a week.
“Keep in touch,” I said, realizing how lame I sounded. I was at a loss for words.
“Sure,” he said, nodding, as he slowly released me, then turned to leave.
Watching him walk to my door, I felt a tightness in
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