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An Excerpt From: PERFECT TIMING
Copyright © BARBARA ELSBORG, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
A plate of strawberry Pavlova appeared in front of her. Daisy
groaned. Her favorite and she couldn’t even eat it. She sighed
dramatically, then louder when no one took any notice, and when she was
sure she had the attention of every person in the room, she slumped, face
first, into the meringue-topped dessert. She heard loud screams and Jake
laughing by her ear. She hoped people noticed that. He was probably the
killer.
There was whipped cream around her lips. Daisy took a
quick slurp.
“Stop licking the cream. It’s supposed to be poisonous,”
Jake whispered. “If you’re that desperate, I’ll bring some to your room
later.”
Daisy put her tongue away. He lifted her onto the floor
and laid her on her back. Someone wiped her face with a napkin.
“Look at those shoes,” a man
said. “It’s a clue.”
“Maybe she’s still a stripper.” That came from another
man. Daisy thought it was the colonel.
“She’s moving. She’s alive,” said a woman.
Of course I’m alive, you decrepit old
fool, Daisy wanted to shout. She smelled the tang of Jake’s aftershave
as he bent over her.
“No, she’s dead,” he announced. “This is terrible. What’s
happened? Who would want to kill such a decent woman? Sister Mary has
dedicated her life to the happiness of others, she’s a saint.”
“Listen to her heart,” someone called. “Make sure she’s
dead.”
Daisy hoped no one suggested stabbing her with a knife
to make extra sure. She felt Jake’s head against her chest. She could smell
something else now. Oranges?
She itched to run her fingers through his hair. She knew her heart was
beating like a hummingbird’s wings right into his ear.
“Try mouth-to-mouth,” someone else chimed in.
Was Daisy allowed to speak? She tried to telepathically
beam Yes please into Jake’s mind.
“Good idea,” he whispered.
Hey, it worked, she thought in delight.
His lips brushed against hers and her mouth opened automatically. Damn.
She was such a pushover. Her hands longed to sweep over his back and crush
him against her. She wondered if they’d think it was a postmortem spasm.
Maybe not. Then his tongue surged into her mouth and she couldn’t hold back
the groan. His lips immediately left hers.
“She moaned,” someone cried.
“No, that was me,” Jake said. “I’m allergic to cream. I
forgot.”
Damn, but she hoped that wasn’t true.
“Another clue,” someone shouted.
Daisy could feel fingers fiddling with the buttons on
her habit.
“I’m a doctor, give her some air.”
“Why does she need air if she’s dead?” a woman asked.
More lips from the priest, please. Daisy
put in her mental request but there was no orangey smell. She took a quick
peek under her lashes and saw a baldheaded guy bending over her. He had a
monocle clamped so tightly in his eye that one side of his face looked
deformed. Her buttons fell open and there was a gasp from the surrounding
crowd, followed by a loud thump.
“Dr. Varley’s fainted,” a
voice said.
“Oh shit,” Jake muttered at her ear.
“Oh, red lace,” a man said.
There was another thump.
Daisy found herself being swept up into someone’s arms.
Judging by the citrus tang, it was Jake.
“The police are on their way. Coffee and liqueurs in the
garden room,” he announced.
The moment they were out of the room, Daisy opened her
eyes and began to struggle. “Put me down.”
“You’re supposed to be dead, quit moving.”
She shut her eyes, went completely floppy and he nearly
dropped her. She felt his arms flailing around, trying to hold her.
“Shit, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I can’t speak. I’m dead, remember?” Daisy said through
the corner of her mouth.
She heard him harrumph but she stayed limp in his arms
and enjoyed the sensation of being held close to his chest. She nestled her
cheek against his thin cassock, enjoying the feel of his firm pecs, aware
of the hard nub of his nipple inches from her mouth. If she hadn’t been
afraid he might drop her on her tender backside, she’d have had a quick
lick. He carried her all the way upstairs and she sent a little prayer for
him to take her to his room.
When he lowered her onto her feet, Daisy slumped to the
carpet and banged her head on the door.
“You can quit acting now, Ms. Leaf. Nobody’s watching.”
Her door swung open and Daisy toppled into the room,
still pretending to be dead. There was method in her madness. This was Plan
A. She heard him sigh but he picked her up again, walked a few more steps then
threw her onto the bed with such force she bounced. Maybe it was time for
Plan B.
CLOSE WINDOW
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