Read Online Murder of a Wedding Belle by Denise Swanson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Denise Swanson
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invitation, Skye’s stomach growled, and she said, “Maybe later.”
“Okay.” He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. “I know a hungry girlfriend is a cranky girlfriend.” He started unbuttoning his shirt as he walked away.
A few seconds later, Skye could hear him humming and moving around in the master bedroom; then the shower came on. Smiling, she busied herself with microwaving the baked beans and heating up the buns. Ten minutes later, Wally appeared just as she was putting the potato salad on the table. He had changed into faded jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and cupped the tight curve of his derrière. A plain white T-shirt stretched across his powerful shoulders.
Skye’s lips parted and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten them.
His chocolate brown eyes followed the movement, and he gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing. “It’s not too late to change your mind about a shower. There’s still plenty of hot water.”
In her mind, Skye sprinkled the brownies all over his chest and licked them off. Before she could act on her impulse, her stomach growled again. No. Real food first, fantasy dessert later, or maybe just cuddling. They were both exhausted, and the recent murder didn’t exactly set the right mood for lovemaking.
Sadness swept over Skye at the memory of Belle’s death. She hadn’t liked the woman, but no one had the right to take her life. By murdering her, the killer had stolen Belle’s chance to mature, to grow, to become a less selfish person.
Skye thrust out her jaw. Whoever had done it would be sorry. They’d picked the wrong place to commit the crime. Scumble River may seem like a hick town, but it had a terrific police department and a darn good psychological consultant, both of which had a nearly perfect record of bringing murderers to justice.
Wally was looking at her funny, and Skye realized she’d been lost in her thoughts. She shook off her gloominess, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and handed it to him, asking, “Ready to eat?”
“I was ready five hours ago.” He sank into a chair.
“Me, too.” She watched him from the corner of her eye as she poured herself a glass of wine. She never tired of looking at him. He was devastatingly handsome and exuded masculinity. Taking a deep breath, she savored the tantalizing scent of his aftershave.
Skye heaped savory barbeque onto a warm roll and took a huge bite. She closed her eyes and nearly moaned as the spicy meat melted in her mouth, then swallowed and brought the sandwich back to her lips. Hearing Wally chuckle, she glanced at him. He had a bemused expression on his face.
Putting down the bun, she demanded, “What? Do I have sauce on my chin?”
“No.” Wally tried to hide his grin. “I just enjoy watching you eat. You have a much more intimate relationship with your dinner than I do.”
“Is that bad?” Was he saying she was a glutton?
“Nope. In fact, it turns me on.”
“Oh.” Skye smiled to herself. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
They ate in silence for a while, but after their initial hunger had been slaked, Skye commented, “I haven’t seen these dishes before. What happened to your grandmother’s Royal Winton china?”
“Dorothy thinks they should only be used for special occasions, so she made me buy these from Wal-Mart.” Wally shook his head. “I’m not sure what she considers a special enough occasion—these are all she ever sets out.”
“She and my mother are so alike.” Skye ate a forkful of potato salad, then added, “Mom won’t even let me have the dishes her grandmother left me until I’m married.” Oops! She didn’t want to discuss Wally’s proposal. Hurrying to change the subject, she asked, “So, how’s your dad been?” Carson Boyd had been hospitalized last October after collapsing, and the doctors had never figured out what was wrong with him.
“Fine. When I spoke to him last week, he was thinking of taking a cruise.” Wally
“Okay.” He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. “I know a hungry girlfriend is a cranky girlfriend.” He started unbuttoning his shirt as he walked away.
A few seconds later, Skye could hear him humming and moving around in the master bedroom; then the shower came on. Smiling, she busied herself with microwaving the baked beans and heating up the buns. Ten minutes later, Wally appeared just as she was putting the potato salad on the table. He had changed into faded jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and cupped the tight curve of his derrière. A plain white T-shirt stretched across his powerful shoulders.
Skye’s lips parted and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten them.
His chocolate brown eyes followed the movement, and he gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing. “It’s not too late to change your mind about a shower. There’s still plenty of hot water.”
In her mind, Skye sprinkled the brownies all over his chest and licked them off. Before she could act on her impulse, her stomach growled again. No. Real food first, fantasy dessert later, or maybe just cuddling. They were both exhausted, and the recent murder didn’t exactly set the right mood for lovemaking.
Sadness swept over Skye at the memory of Belle’s death. She hadn’t liked the woman, but no one had the right to take her life. By murdering her, the killer had stolen Belle’s chance to mature, to grow, to become a less selfish person.
Skye thrust out her jaw. Whoever had done it would be sorry. They’d picked the wrong place to commit the crime. Scumble River may seem like a hick town, but it had a terrific police department and a darn good psychological consultant, both of which had a nearly perfect record of bringing murderers to justice.
Wally was looking at her funny, and Skye realized she’d been lost in her thoughts. She shook off her gloominess, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and handed it to him, asking, “Ready to eat?”
“I was ready five hours ago.” He sank into a chair.
“Me, too.” She watched him from the corner of her eye as she poured herself a glass of wine. She never tired of looking at him. He was devastatingly handsome and exuded masculinity. Taking a deep breath, she savored the tantalizing scent of his aftershave.
Skye heaped savory barbeque onto a warm roll and took a huge bite. She closed her eyes and nearly moaned as the spicy meat melted in her mouth, then swallowed and brought the sandwich back to her lips. Hearing Wally chuckle, she glanced at him. He had a bemused expression on his face.
Putting down the bun, she demanded, “What? Do I have sauce on my chin?”
“No.” Wally tried to hide his grin. “I just enjoy watching you eat. You have a much more intimate relationship with your dinner than I do.”
“Is that bad?” Was he saying she was a glutton?
“Nope. In fact, it turns me on.”
“Oh.” Skye smiled to herself. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
They ate in silence for a while, but after their initial hunger had been slaked, Skye commented, “I haven’t seen these dishes before. What happened to your grandmother’s Royal Winton china?”
“Dorothy thinks they should only be used for special occasions, so she made me buy these from Wal-Mart.” Wally shook his head. “I’m not sure what she considers a special enough occasion—these are all she ever sets out.”
“She and my mother are so alike.” Skye ate a forkful of potato salad, then added, “Mom won’t even let me have the dishes her grandmother left me until I’m married.” Oops! She didn’t want to discuss Wally’s proposal. Hurrying to change the subject, she asked, “So, how’s your dad been?” Carson Boyd had been hospitalized last October after collapsing, and the doctors had never figured out what was wrong with him.
“Fine. When I spoke to him last week, he was thinking of taking a cruise.” Wally
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