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Authors: Amanda M. Holt
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dainty glass cups, a thick, rich chocolate mousse decorated with fresh raspberries and mint leaves.
“I don’t know if I have room for dessert, Mrs. Gundy.” Brian gingerly touched his washboard stomach.
“Make room.” Russ advised, already into his dessert. “It’s heavenly.”
Miranda knew that it was.
She loved the Saturdays that the cook had off.
Roberto was good chef by any standard but nothing could beat her aunt Nancee’s scalloped potatoes and chocolate mousse.
It was comfort food at its best!
Miranda adored her aunt Nancee, in so many ways.
Long before her father and Russ had made their fortunes in the Computer Operating System Software Company or COSSCO, as it was known around the globe, Nancee had been a loving and doting housewife.
Fame and fortune had not made a snob of her aunt...
Even though she was oft to apologize for it, Nancee sincerely thrilled at having the kitchen to herself on Saturdays and still oversaw the running of the large household.
Everything from the calling of the pool boy to the approval of the grocery budget was under her domain.
She kept herself busy with charity work and community development boards while her husband was away minding COSSCO.
Miranda glanced at her Uncle Russ, who was shamelessly licking his dessert spoon.
Now there was a character.
As good natured as he was impulsive, as intelligent as he was bossy, there were few things he loved more than running his company. Those few things were his wife, daughter and a good game of chess.
He finished the L.A. Times crossword every morning prior to leaving for work, usually before the time it took the average player to complete.
Not that he actually he had to work anymore.
With his stake in COSSCO, Russ a millionaire several times over.
Yet to leave the helm of COSSCO to the steering of strangers or minions as he like to call his staff and board… it simply wasn’t the control freak’s style.
Miranda looked to her red headed cousin Lynn, sitting on the opposite side of the table.
She was boldly staring at Brian Logan, curling a long tendril of hair around her finger. The dreamy look on her face was laughable, not that Miranda could blame her.
He was a very, very attractive man.
His nearness was a heady experience, causing her to wonder at her awareness of his every move. It was like some kind of eerie rada.
Her ears were acting as though they had been attuned to listen closely to his every word.
Guilt loomed in the back of her mind, guilt over Richard and that she could respond to someone so soon after losing him and with such intensity.
Intensity.
It was a word that described her attraction to Brian rather well...
“Tell me, Brian,” she began softly, daring to glance into his lead grey eyes. “As an investigator, if you were going to try to find the man who killed my fiancé, where would you begin?”
Brian froze.
It was the last question he had been expecting to be asked tonight.
Part of him wanted to pound his fist on the table and lay curses on the dead scumbag’s soul. It was the part of him that wanted to clear off the dinner table with a sweep of his arm, send the Gundys out of the room, pluck Miranda out of her chair and make love to her on the antique oak.
Brian rolled the idea over in his mind a moment, finding it a delectable dessert option.
He hoped that his hesitation in offering a reply only gave the appearance that he was giving it a moment of thought.
He then replied, “Wherever the police left off with their resources. I’d interview his friends, family and co-workers. See if he had any enemies, anyone who might want to do him harm.” He paused. “Anyone named Barry would be a suspect, unless of course that’s a nickname.”
Alarmed, Miranda asked: “How did you know about Barry?”
She had told no one but the police and her family...
“Uh – I told him,” said Russ quickly.
Good cover , thought Brian. Let’s see where you go with
“I don’t know if I have room for dessert, Mrs. Gundy.” Brian gingerly touched his washboard stomach.
“Make room.” Russ advised, already into his dessert. “It’s heavenly.”
Miranda knew that it was.
She loved the Saturdays that the cook had off.
Roberto was good chef by any standard but nothing could beat her aunt Nancee’s scalloped potatoes and chocolate mousse.
It was comfort food at its best!
Miranda adored her aunt Nancee, in so many ways.
Long before her father and Russ had made their fortunes in the Computer Operating System Software Company or COSSCO, as it was known around the globe, Nancee had been a loving and doting housewife.
Fame and fortune had not made a snob of her aunt...
Even though she was oft to apologize for it, Nancee sincerely thrilled at having the kitchen to herself on Saturdays and still oversaw the running of the large household.
Everything from the calling of the pool boy to the approval of the grocery budget was under her domain.
She kept herself busy with charity work and community development boards while her husband was away minding COSSCO.
Miranda glanced at her Uncle Russ, who was shamelessly licking his dessert spoon.
Now there was a character.
As good natured as he was impulsive, as intelligent as he was bossy, there were few things he loved more than running his company. Those few things were his wife, daughter and a good game of chess.
He finished the L.A. Times crossword every morning prior to leaving for work, usually before the time it took the average player to complete.
Not that he actually he had to work anymore.
With his stake in COSSCO, Russ a millionaire several times over.
Yet to leave the helm of COSSCO to the steering of strangers or minions as he like to call his staff and board… it simply wasn’t the control freak’s style.
Miranda looked to her red headed cousin Lynn, sitting on the opposite side of the table.
She was boldly staring at Brian Logan, curling a long tendril of hair around her finger. The dreamy look on her face was laughable, not that Miranda could blame her.
He was a very, very attractive man.
His nearness was a heady experience, causing her to wonder at her awareness of his every move. It was like some kind of eerie rada.
Her ears were acting as though they had been attuned to listen closely to his every word.
Guilt loomed in the back of her mind, guilt over Richard and that she could respond to someone so soon after losing him and with such intensity.
Intensity.
It was a word that described her attraction to Brian rather well...
“Tell me, Brian,” she began softly, daring to glance into his lead grey eyes. “As an investigator, if you were going to try to find the man who killed my fiancé, where would you begin?”
Brian froze.
It was the last question he had been expecting to be asked tonight.
Part of him wanted to pound his fist on the table and lay curses on the dead scumbag’s soul. It was the part of him that wanted to clear off the dinner table with a sweep of his arm, send the Gundys out of the room, pluck Miranda out of her chair and make love to her on the antique oak.
Brian rolled the idea over in his mind a moment, finding it a delectable dessert option.
He hoped that his hesitation in offering a reply only gave the appearance that he was giving it a moment of thought.
He then replied, “Wherever the police left off with their resources. I’d interview his friends, family and co-workers. See if he had any enemies, anyone who might want to do him harm.” He paused. “Anyone named Barry would be a suspect, unless of course that’s a nickname.”
Alarmed, Miranda asked: “How did you know about Barry?”
She had told no one but the police and her family...
“Uh – I told him,” said Russ quickly.
Good cover , thought Brian. Let’s see where you go with
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