Deadly Satisfaction by Trice Hickman Page A

claim his heart, let alone warrant an engagement ring.
    â€œI’ll deal with her later,” Phillip said as he slid the phone back into his pocket and looked out the exit door. He hoped that Donetta was still within sight, but she wasn’t. He looked through the large glass window in front of him that provided a view of the parking lot, but he didn’t see her out there, either. He figured she must have parked on the side of the building because if she’d been out front she’d still be loading her car with grocery bags right now. Phillip didn’t want her to slip away for a second time. He looked at the cashier, who was moving as if he was stuck in quicksand. “Hey, man, can you speed it up? I’m trying to get out of here.”
    After the bag boy put the last item in Phillip’s cart, he paid the cashier and quickly pushed his cart toward the exit. He walked out the door, and a smile returned to his face when he saw Donetta leaning against the side of the wall with her shopping cart in front of her. “You’re still here,” he said in a low, sexy voice, happy to see her.
    She smiled back at him. “You didn’t think I’d leave without saying a proper good-bye, did you? After all, I’m not a rude person . . . at least not anymore.” She laughed and it made him laugh, too.
    He moved his cart next to hers. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
    â€œFive more minutes, and you would’ve missed me because it’s freezing out here.” She shivered, rubbing the sides of her arms to keep warm. “The temperature dropped while we were inside.”
    â€œYeah, I think you’re right. I wish I had a jacket to offer you.”
    She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but once I get to my car I’ll be fine.”
    Phillip wanted to wrap his arms around her to warm her up, but he knew he couldn’t do that . . . at least not yet. “I’ll walk you to your car. Where are you parked?”
    She hesitated, and then pointed her slender, perfectly manicured finger. “Over there. Follow me.”
    Now Phillip was certain that Donetta didn’t want their time together to end, either, because instead of briskly walking to get out of the cold, she was taking her time, pushing her cart at a snail’s pace. When they finally reached her car, he wasn’t surprised to see that she drove a sleek BMW, similar to the one he owned that was parked in the garage of his town house. “I’ll put your bags in your trunk while you sit inside and warm up,” he offered.
    Phillip quickly loaded her bags and then returned her cart to the stand in front of the store. As he walked back to her car, he could see that Donetta was staring at him, the same way he imagined he’d been staring at her in the restaurant. When she realized that he could see her watching him through her windshield, she averted her eyes. He knew that was a good sign. When he came up to her driver’s side door, she had the window rolled down and the heat turned up high.
    â€œYou getting warm yet?” he asked.
    â€œYes, but I can’t say much for my food. It’s going straight into the oven when I get home.”
    â€œThe oven? You don’t microwave your food?”
    Donetta tilted her head and flipped her long tresses to the side as she spoke. “Not with chicken marsala. The sauce they make it with is delicate and the chicken breast can dry out in the microwave. It’s best reheated, on low, in a conventional oven. That way it retains its moistness and flavor.”
    Phillip loved that she was a woman who knew a lot about food. He was a firm believer that one of the best ways to a man’s heart was through his stomach. “You sure do know a lot about cooking.”
    â€œIt’s my second passion. My customers at the salon rave about my cakes and pies.”
    â€œI bet they’re delicious.” Phillip paused, then