Death by Chocolate

Chapter One

Chapter One

I could tell the minute I woke that it was Sunday. For one thing, it was daylight and the alarm wasn't shrieking. But mostly because the songs of the birds and the September breezes coming through my open window had that Sunday morning sound and feel to them.

I rolled over and snuggled up against Rick's warm body.

That's when it hit me.

Rick and I were getting a divorce. There shouldn't be a man in my bed.

I sat bolt upright, heart pounding. Who the hell was sleeping in my bed?

Good-looking, dark golden hair streaked from the sun and Lady Clairol, nice tan, complacent expression even when he was asleep.

Rick.

I suppressed a groan as I came fully awake and remembered his unexpected appearance on my front porch...and everything that followed...the night before. I had clearly lost my mind.

Not that my mind ever had much control where Rick was concerned.

When I'd opened the door to see him standing there yesterday evening, feet planted firmly on my doormat with its image of Taz shrieking in bright red letters, Go away!, I'd been glad to see him. Right then I should have called 911 to request that I be declared mentally incompetent and hauled off in chains for my own protection. I couldn't possibly be glad to see Rick when I knew he'd already moved Muffy or Buffy or whatever her name was into our house and our bed.

Instead I'd just stood there looking at him, and he'd looked back at me with those eyes that were bluer than the Kansas City sky in the middle of summer. Of course, if that sky wore tinted contacts, it could be that blue too.

I did have enough presence of mind to snarl at him. "What do you want?" I attempted to sneer.

He smiled-the smile that made him top salesman at Rheims Commercial Real Estate for the past six years. Somebody at a party once asked Rick what he sold. He gave the person that same smile and said, "Myself."

And he did a damned good job of it.

So I snarled and sneered and he smiled. I knew he wanted to sell me something. Probably himself.

"Hi, babe," he said and waved a manila envelope. "We need to go over some more terms of the settlement agreement, so I thought I'd stop by in person."

Yeah, right. I knew-and he knew that I knew-there were no more terms of the divorce to go over. He'd demanded the lion's share and I'd agreed because all I wanted was for the whole thing to be finished. I was asking for four things: this house (not the big one where he and Muffy/Buffy lived but this small one that used to be one of our rental properties), the rental house next door where my friend Paula lived, my coffee/lunch/dessert shop, Death by Chocolate, and my old but fast, red Toyota Celica.

However, I'd been facing another Saturday night alone with a book or playing Scrabble with Paula, and it was one of those evenings when it's not summer anymore but not yet fall. The air was still warm though it had a nostalgic feel to it, as if remembering all the fun of the summer slowly fading into the past and dreading the cold winter on its way. Or maybe that was just how I was feeling.

Anyway, I asked Rick in.

And when I wasn't looking, he ordered a pizza. Double pepperoni. My favorite kind.

Like I said, he's a damned good salesman.

One dumb thing led to another and then another...and now here he was, sleeping in my bed.