Pie A La Murder by Melinda Wells

of my articles. I told her where to find them on the Internet. She has a pink laptop.”
    I wasn’t interested in the color of her computer. Sounding carefully neutral, I asked, “Have you seen her mother yet?”
    The warm tone of his voice dropped a good twenty degrees. “No, but we’ve talked on the phone.”
    “Did she tell you why she’s here?”
    “It seems that Celeste left Vienna while Tanis was vacationing in Rio. Vacationing from what , don’t ask me. Tanis didn’t know she was gone until she returned and found Celeste’s note.”
    “I hope she’s not going to yank her away from you again.”
    “No, she’s not taking her back to Europe. I have a suspicion that Tanis doesn’t really want her back, but she’s playing the mother card.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “She said she’s come here to be sure that Celeste will be in a ‘positive environment.’ She actually said she wants to be sure I’ll look after Celeste, keep her out of trouble.”
    I remembered what Eileen had said about having kept things from me when she was Celeste’s age. “Teenage girls are as slippery as a ball of mercury, but if anyone can do it, you can.”
    “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I wish Celeste’s mother had your high opinion of me.”
    “I have a very high opinion of you in all areas,” I said softly.
    I heard his throaty chuckle, and the sound of it vibrated through my body.
    “Tomorrow you’re teaching your class and I’m taking Celeste out to get her a car—something safe and reliable. But tomorrow night she’s having dinner with her mother. Are you free to have dinner with me? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
    “Come here,” I said. “I’ll make something for us. Name your favorite dish.”
    “You.” That was what I’d hoped he’d say, and as he proceeded to elaborate on that theme, I felt a flush creeping up my cheeks.

8

    Saturday evening, Tuffy and I greeted Nicholas at the front door. He arrived with a bouquet of red roses, a box of chocolate-covered strawberries, and a kiss that left me breathless. When he let me go, I took the roses and he reached down to give Tuffy a scratch on the head.
    “Beautiful flowers,” I said. “I’ll put these in water.”
    “Just in the sink. I don’t want you to take time arranging them.”
    He and Tuffy followed me into the kitchen. Tuffy trotted over to his dog bed and settled down while I filled the sink with an inch of water and propped up the roses so that their stems could drink.
    Nicholas sniffed the aroma coming from the Dutch oven on the stove. “Beef Bourguignon?”
    “Yes.”
    “Great. The longer it sits, the better it tastes.”
    He took me in his arms, kissed me again, and whispered, “Can we go to the bedroom?”
    I liked the fact he didn’t take my agreement for granted.
    “Unless you’d rather make love here on the kitchen floor,” I said mock-seriously.
    In the bedroom, Nicholas gently slipped his hands up underneath my sweater. “I like it that you wear bras that hook in front,” he whispered.

    Nicholas never got to taste the Beef Bourguignon.
    We made love twice—first with urgency to satisfy our hunger for each other, and then in our usual, more leisurely manner. We were lying content in each other’s arms when he raised his wrist above the back of my head and looked at his watch.
    “It’s late.” He removed his other arm from where it lay across my rib cage and sat up in bed.
    I checked the red numerals on my bedside clock. “It’s only nine fifteen.”
    He was already out of bed and reaching for his clothes. “I want to get home before Tanis brings Celeste back from their dinner together. She shouldn’t be alone in an empty apartment.”
    “I understand,” I said. And I did. I remembered all the nights I’d waited up to be sure that teenage Eileen got home safely. I joked, “Do you want some Beef Bourguignon to go?”
    He looked at me, as though trying to gauge my real feelings about his hasty