the hall.
“Hello, Ben darling,” I said as I went into his arms. “Did Mrs. Beetle like the book?”
“She was thrilled speechless.”
“And that makes you deserving of a reward,” I whispered against his lips.
“More new furniture?”
“Something better. Mrs. Malloy frightened me last night. She said you might become so keen on computers that you’d decide to buy another one to take to bed with you, and I’m going to show you why you don’t need to do that.”
“But isn’t she here? I thought I heard you talking to her when I came in?” If he hadn’t smiled at me in just that way while raising an enchantingly quizzical eyebrow I might have found the strength to tell him the truth. After all, hadn’t I vowed never to be anything less than up front and straightforward with him ever again? But on the other hand, why should Ernestine be the only woman in the world to be blown away by a look… a glance from the right man?
“What? Mrs. Malloy here… in the house?” I took his hand and led him toward the stairs. “Trust me, darling, that woman has better fish to fry on a lovely day like this.”
“It’s cold and getting ready to rain.”
“I know.” I turned back into his arms for a delicious moment before sprinting ahead of him three steps at a time. “What’s my prize if I race you under the covers?”
“I’ll let you play with my computer.”
“Perfect,” I said. What more could any wife ask of life? Except hope that other women everywhere were just as happy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This is Dorothy Cannell’s twelfth mystery. Her others include
