Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Suspense,
Romance,
Contemporary,
Adult,
Women Authors,
Georgia,
Murder,
secrets,
Scandals
it.â
âHow innovative of you,â Roxanne said. âIâm quite impressed with your ambition.â
âIâm not sure I had any choice in the matter. As I said, I was born a writer.â Chelsea decided the time had come to turn the attention back to their hostess. âSo, what made you decide to beautify the world, Roxanne?â
âLike you, I had no choice.â
The tiny pinched lines that suddenly appeared above Roxanneâs top lip hinted at hidden depths. Perhaps even secrets. Everyone had secrets, Chelsea reminded herself. One of hers was currently sitting across the table from her. Her curiosity stimulated, she wondered what secrets she might discover behind Roxanneâs attractive, carefully constructed facade.
âI have always had a deep visceral need to be surrounded by beautiful things.â
âWell, youâve certainly managed to do that,â Jo pipedup enthusiastically in a way that had Chelsea thinking that she seemed more cheerleader than documentary filmmaker. âYour home is absolutely stunning.â
Roxanneâs gaze swept around the room with obvious satisfaction. âYes,â she agreed. âIt is.â
The dinner of glazed carrots and snow peas, sweet potato soufflé, roast quail that had been boned, stuffed, then cunningly reassembled to look like its former self, was perfect. Roxanne, Chelsea suspected, would accept nothing short of excellence.
âThis sure beats the hell out of the buckshot quail I grew up eating,â Cash drawled as he cut into the tender bird.
Roxanne shook her head in mock resignation. âWhat is it about southern gentlemen and their addiction to hunting?â She took a sip of wine and eyed Chelsea over the rim of the stemmed glass. âTell me, Chelsea, dear, is your Nelson a hunter?â
Chelsea didnât know which she found more surprising: that Roxanne knew about Nelson, or the way Cash seemed to stiffen at the mention of the man heâd always insisted was so wrong for her.
âActually, Nelson prefers golf.â
âA tedious pastime,â Roxanne scoffed. âAll those men dressed in horridly garish clothing chasing a little ball around for hours and hours. I will never understand the appeal.â She turned toward Cash. âI assume youâre a golfer.â
âNever had time to take it up,â he said, not mentioning that in the early years, he couldnât afford the balls, let alone the clubs. He turned the conversation to Roxanneâs beloved Belle Terre, which she was more than happy to talk about for the rest of the evening.
Dessert was a rich bread pudding drenched in a caramel whiskey sauce that left Chelsea feeling soporific. Even thecaffeine in the French roast coffee blend couldnât overcome her sudden exhaustion.
She turned down the offer of brandy in the parlor. âAs much as Iâve enjoyed this evening, I think Iâd better take a rain check. Itâs been a long day.â
âI do wish you were staying in one of the guest rooms,â Roxanne complained. âThen youâd only have to go upstairs to bed.â
âItâs so convenient,â Jo said, revealing that she was ensconced somewhere upstairs. âAnd far nicer than any hotel.â
âThe offer is always open,â Roxanne said. âIf you decide to change your mind.â She rose from the table to see her guest to the door. Dorothy, who hadnât yet finished her dessert, instantly jumped to her feet.
When Cash stood up as well, Chelsea first thought he was merely being polite. A minute later, she was reminded that mannersâsouthern or otherwiseâhad never been his style.
âIâll drive Chelsea to the inn.â
The declaration affected Chelsea like a jolt of adrenaline.
âThatâs not necessary,â she and Roxanne said together.
âReally, Cash,â Roxanne continued, âitâs Dorothyâs job. For
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