Read Online Limoncello Yellow (Franki Amato Mysteries) by Traci Andrighetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Traci Andrighetti
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more than 4' 10"—looked remarkably like Tinker Bell sans bun and wings.
" May I help you?" she asked in a heavy accent. I quickly glanced at the name on her nameplate—Corinne Mercier—to confirm my suspicion that she was French. New Orleans, I knew, was a popular city among French immigrants because of its historical ties to France.
" Yes, I'd like to make a withdrawal, please." I slid my withdrawal slip toward her. "I haven't gotten my ATM card yet."
She looked at me. "Oh, mademoiselle , I am so sorry. Are you new to the bank?"
I noticed that her big blue eyes were rimmed with red like she 'd been crying. Guessing that she was having man trouble, I sympathized. "Yeah, I just moved here from Austin to take a job as a private investigator. Where are you from?"
" I come here from Toulouse to start a new life. My mother, she is américaine , but I was raised in France."
" Really? I moved here to start a new life too. Besides getting a new job, I wanted to get away from my cheating ex-boyfriend."
" Ah! My boyfriend, Thierry, he cheat too! I come home yesterday, and I find him wis a woman." She struggled to enter my transaction into the computer as her eyes welled up with tears.
" I'm really sorry to hear that. The same thing happened to me. I'm Franki, by the way. You're Corinne, right?"
She nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue. "You too? Men! Zey are so…so… volages , non ?" She blew her nose with a very un-Tinker Bell-like honk, and then handed me my money from the teller cash dispenser.
" Exactly." I put the money into my wallet. I had no idea what she'd just said, but I agreed with the tone of her voice one hundred percent. "All they think about is sex! You know, I really believe the old saying that a man thinks with his penis is true."
As I was speaking, Corinne 's big blue eyes suddenly got even bigger, and then she started fiddling with her pixie-style blonde hair. At first I thought it was because I was coming on a little strong for a stranger and all, but then her eyes darted to something—or someone—over my right shoulder. I turned around and saw one of the most handsome men I've ever seen in my life. He had dark brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and a sensuous mouth.
" Is this yours, miss?" he asked.
He was holding up my birth control case —with an annoying twinkle in his eye. I must have dropped it when I was standing in line digging through my bag for the pen I'd used to fill out my withdrawal slip. I felt like my whole body was turning red with embarrassment. Not only had he probably heard my cutting remarks about men, but now he also knew I was having sex with at least one of them.
I realized that I 'd been staring at him slack-jawed. I closed my mouth and swallowed hard. "Oh, gosh! Those? They belong to a friend. I'm just holding them for her." I laughed falsely and added, "While she's out of town." I'd never been one to stop while I was ahead.
He flashed a devious smile. "I'd better check the pharmacy label on the back to be sure. It says they were prescribed to—"
" Don't read that," I snapped, snatching the package from his hand. "You wouldn't want to violate the HIPAA Privacy Rule."
" Certainly not. My apologies," he said with a mock bow. "To your friend, of course."
Clearly , he was enjoying this.
I pretended to check the label. "They're hers, all right," I said, shoving the pills into my bag. "Thank you, Mr.…?"
" Hartmann. Bradley Hartmann," he replied—not unlike James Bond. My Bond-loving priest friend would no doubt be impressed. "I'm the president of the bank." He reached out for a handshake. "Your name is Francesca, right?"
So he did read the back of my birth control case , I thought. Fab. Just what my life needed—more men who delighted in humiliating me. "Franki," I replied through the heat in my cheeks. "Franki Amato."
" I heard you tell Miss Mercier that you haven't received your ATM card yet. Why don't you let me look into that for you?" He flashed a dazzling
" May I help you?" she asked in a heavy accent. I quickly glanced at the name on her nameplate—Corinne Mercier—to confirm my suspicion that she was French. New Orleans, I knew, was a popular city among French immigrants because of its historical ties to France.
" Yes, I'd like to make a withdrawal, please." I slid my withdrawal slip toward her. "I haven't gotten my ATM card yet."
She looked at me. "Oh, mademoiselle , I am so sorry. Are you new to the bank?"
I noticed that her big blue eyes were rimmed with red like she 'd been crying. Guessing that she was having man trouble, I sympathized. "Yeah, I just moved here from Austin to take a job as a private investigator. Where are you from?"
" I come here from Toulouse to start a new life. My mother, she is américaine , but I was raised in France."
" Really? I moved here to start a new life too. Besides getting a new job, I wanted to get away from my cheating ex-boyfriend."
" Ah! My boyfriend, Thierry, he cheat too! I come home yesterday, and I find him wis a woman." She struggled to enter my transaction into the computer as her eyes welled up with tears.
" I'm really sorry to hear that. The same thing happened to me. I'm Franki, by the way. You're Corinne, right?"
She nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue. "You too? Men! Zey are so…so… volages , non ?" She blew her nose with a very un-Tinker Bell-like honk, and then handed me my money from the teller cash dispenser.
" Exactly." I put the money into my wallet. I had no idea what she'd just said, but I agreed with the tone of her voice one hundred percent. "All they think about is sex! You know, I really believe the old saying that a man thinks with his penis is true."
As I was speaking, Corinne 's big blue eyes suddenly got even bigger, and then she started fiddling with her pixie-style blonde hair. At first I thought it was because I was coming on a little strong for a stranger and all, but then her eyes darted to something—or someone—over my right shoulder. I turned around and saw one of the most handsome men I've ever seen in my life. He had dark brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and a sensuous mouth.
" Is this yours, miss?" he asked.
He was holding up my birth control case —with an annoying twinkle in his eye. I must have dropped it when I was standing in line digging through my bag for the pen I'd used to fill out my withdrawal slip. I felt like my whole body was turning red with embarrassment. Not only had he probably heard my cutting remarks about men, but now he also knew I was having sex with at least one of them.
I realized that I 'd been staring at him slack-jawed. I closed my mouth and swallowed hard. "Oh, gosh! Those? They belong to a friend. I'm just holding them for her." I laughed falsely and added, "While she's out of town." I'd never been one to stop while I was ahead.
He flashed a devious smile. "I'd better check the pharmacy label on the back to be sure. It says they were prescribed to—"
" Don't read that," I snapped, snatching the package from his hand. "You wouldn't want to violate the HIPAA Privacy Rule."
" Certainly not. My apologies," he said with a mock bow. "To your friend, of course."
Clearly , he was enjoying this.
I pretended to check the label. "They're hers, all right," I said, shoving the pills into my bag. "Thank you, Mr.…?"
" Hartmann. Bradley Hartmann," he replied—not unlike James Bond. My Bond-loving priest friend would no doubt be impressed. "I'm the president of the bank." He reached out for a handshake. "Your name is Francesca, right?"
So he did read the back of my birth control case , I thought. Fab. Just what my life needed—more men who delighted in humiliating me. "Franki," I replied through the heat in my cheeks. "Franki Amato."
" I heard you tell Miss Mercier that you haven't received your ATM card yet. Why don't you let me look into that for you?" He flashed a dazzling
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