Chicken Soup & Homicide - Culinary Competition Mystery #2

Chapter 16

(Carla)

Carla sat on the end of the king-size bed to take off her shoes. The shiny black stiletto pumps looked sexy as hell, but they hurt like hell too. Her feet were used to padding around in cushioned, ergonomically designed work shoes made specifically for nurses. Luckily, dinner was at the French restaurant in the lobby of the hotel and not a two-block walk away. Her feet had protested, but she survived the outing. She tossed the shoes next to the dresser on her way to the hot tub.

"Shall we give this a try? A nice long soak sounds perfect to me right now."

No response. She turned on the faucet and sat on the edge of the platform surrounding the two-person tub. Bruce was staring out the window. The view was spectacular, high above downtown Detroit, but she doubted the twinkling lights of the skyline were keeping him from acknowledging her question. She adjusted the water temperature and tried again. "Hello? Are you up for trying the hot tub now?"

He turned around. Carla shivered even though steam was rising from the hot water filling the tub. It was like he wasn't even looking at her. She was a transparent ghost to him. Obviously his mind was still far away from the luxury hotel room they were in. The perfect getaway that they'd been planning for weeks wasn't going as she'd hoped. More strain and tension instead of romance and relaxation. Finally, Bruce answered, "Sorry. I was thinking about something. The hot tub sounds good."

"I can see you were thinking." She crossed the room to stand in front of him. "And I think it's time to get your mind off of whatever is bothering you. You've been far too serious today. This is supposed to be a getaway for both of us, not quiet time for you to ponder a case." She turned her back to him. "Can you unzip my dress?"

She gasped as his warm breath touched her shoulder. Slowly he pulled down the zipper. It had taken her a month to choose the perfect little black dress to wear to dinner. She'd even had the sleeveless sheath with the keyhole neckline tailored to fit her like a glove, but the effort seemed silly now. Bruce had barely looked at her as they ate mussels in champagne sauce and blood orange crème brûlée at the fancy restaurant. She slid the dress off her shoulders and wiggled a bit to ease it over her hips. The fabric puddled around her ankles. She was left standing in the bits of black silk and lace that made up her bra and panties. Hopefully, that would turn the evening around. She closed her eyes and listened for any sound that would give away what Bruce was doing. All she could hear was the water splashing into the tub.

Carla looked over her shoulder and her heart thudded. He was looking out the window again. "What are you doing? I'm standing here in skimpy underwear, and you're admiring the view out the window?" She stalked to the tub and slammed down the faucet lever. "What is going on? This crap about me murdering Chet sucks, but why can't we enjoy ourselves...right now?"

Bruce dragged his hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I feel like Pitts has hog-tied me so he can be free to attack you. He's managed to convince the chief that I've interfered in his investigation so much that I've been put on desk duty. My friends that were helping funnel me information don't want to get tangled in my mess anymore. I've never been in a situation like this. It's pissing me off. I can't sit around shuffling papers while Pitts is sniffing around you like a hungry grizzly."

Okay. The righteous, by-the-book detective in Bruce wouldn't let him put their problems aside and enjoy himself. It was time to snap him out of work mode. "Look, Pitts isn't going to bust through the door and arrest me. A neon sign pointing to the killer won't suddenly appear out this window. It's just you and me. Alone. In a luxury hotel room with a hot tub and king-sized bed."

He glanced out the floor-to-ceiling window one more time, then began unbuttoning his white dress shirt. His perfectly fitted black suit had left her salivating over him more than the seafood at dinner. Now she was even more excited to see him shedding his clothes too. She swished her hand through the warm water and flicked droplets at him. He chuckled while a wicked grin spread across his face. He continued the slow striptease until he was naked. She sucked in a breath as he locked his gaze on her while slowly moving closer. Beads of sweat formed on the base of her back as she stood between two heat sources, the hot tub and Bruce. He hovered inches away, emitting so much warmth her entire body tingled. By the time they tumbled into the hot tub, she felt like she was melting. Finally, the evening was going as she had hoped.

Later in bed, she rested her head on his chest. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling much better."

"Me too." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry I've been in such a bad mood. I don't know what the hell Pitts is doing, but his games are spinning out of control. This is a serious mess."

Regret tightened in her chest. "And you wouldn't be in the middle of it if it weren't for me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He pulled her closer. "I'm a homicide detective. My job is a huge part of my life, too much most times. But a murder brought us back together. I wouldn't...I'm not going to change either thing. The real killer will be found, and we'll be able to get back to normal."

Back to normal. That seemed like an impossible dream with Pitts breathing down their necks. "I really don't want to talk about this right now, but Amy thought of something. It's one of her crazy theories that just seems weird enough to be true. What if Pitts is somehow involved in the murder, and he's screwing with us to divert attention away from himself?"

Bruce exhaled into her hair. "I didn't think of that, but it is plausible. It would make a lot of his actions make a hell of a lot more sense. I'll look into it." He threw his leg over her hip and scooted her closer. "When we get back to Kellerton."