Romancing the Gravestone (A Jane Ladling Mystery 1)

She bit her lip and ran a finger along her seatbelt. “Yes. I think so. Yes.”

A stilted pause before he grudgingly admitted, “I don’t hate him. He’s not a terrible guy.”

They really had worked together. “What changed?”

“I had a friend look into him. He’s well-respected. Known for being honest, even when it hurts. A loner ”

“Wait. Why did you have your friend look into him?”

“What about the Ladling curse?” he said in lieu of an answer.

Had she spilled her greatest flaw to him, too? “First of all, I said I wanted to date Conrad, not marry him, so the curse has no bearing on the situation,” she sputtered. “I’m never getting married. I’ll bask in the love glow of other couples. What about you? Willing to take the plunge one day?”

He drew in a breath. “Let me think about my answer before I respond.”

“Think away. I have my own thoughts to unravel.” Except, for once she didn’t.

Jane peered out the window the rest of the drive, watching trees and cars whiz past, enjoying the reflective silence. As Beau parked across from their destination, she studied the center. Not what she expected. A large metal building, almost a barn, complete with shuttered windows and a wraparound porch. Lush green grass. A smattering of rose bushes and peach trees. Looked like a home away from home, a farmhouse with an edge. A handful of cars peppered the parking lot, a cluster of women dressed in black making their way inside.

She had opted to wear black as well. A more form-fitting dress than usual, sewn by Grandma Lily. Her I am an independent woman, take me seriously outfit. Best to blend in with confidence when you were crashing a memorial.

“Stay there. Don’t move.” Beau exited and rounded the car. The sunlight loved him more than ever, the gold in his skin and hair almost otherworldly. He wore a white button-down and dark slacks, his soldier’s body stretching the material.

Jane bet Eunice or Ana ended up feeling incredibly safe with him. As the couple built something lasting, Jane wouldn’t have to worry about losing everything just as things got good; unlike Jane, Eunice and Ana had a bright romantic future ahead.

Why, why, why must curses be real?

As Beau opened her door and offered her a hand, his expression remained as warm as the spring day. Fiona would be cheering his impeccable manners.

“Thank you,” she said, cupping her fingers to his and beaming as he helped her exit. “Come on.” She hooked her arm through his and urged him forward. “I’m counting on you to charm and distract every woman we encounter so I can unearth their deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Then you brought the wrong guy. Charm isn’t my strong suit.”

“No offense, but that might be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. Charm comes in many forms, my friend, and with you, grumpy is one of them. You are absolutely adorable when you brood. Yes, just like that. See?” She patted his cheek. “Adorable.”

He blinked down at her with a comical mix of incredulity and—dare she believe it?—amusement. “Adorable. Me. That’s a first.”

They entered the reception area. As if drawn by an invisible force, she zoomed her attention to the back of the room, where a buffet table of snacks waited. Mmm. Finger sandwiches, the best of all sandwiches. Cookies. Cupcakes. Chips and dip. Her empty stomach grumbled, and she licked her lips.

Inner shake. People first, food second. Right. Bouquets of flowers abounded, perfuming every inhalation. Long tables displayed pictures of Dr. Hotchkins, both from his personal life and his job. Oh! How perfect.

Roughly thirty mourners milled around. Some grouped together, chatting about the doctor. Others remained alone, smiling or crying while studying the photos. Jane found every single one of them suspicious in some way or another. Especially those two. The most intent studiers. She’d memorized the face and bio of every employee listed on the clinic’s website. Now, she had only to insert herself—oh crap!

“Conrad,” she whispered. Her pulse leaped, and her stomach fluttered. He was here, looking drool-worthy in a suit and tie, and he stared right at her. He’d told her not to investigate, yet here she was, investigating.

Her mouth opened while his lips pressed together in a thin line.

He dragged a heating gaze down her dress. When he met her eyes once again, his irises were ablaze and hot enough to torch her composure. She halfway expected him to stomp across the room and throw her over his impressively wide shoulder. Which she absolutely positively would not enjoy, probably. Instead, he raised his chin and returned his attention to his companion. Another employee she recognized. Dr. Diana Williams. An attractive, forty-something general practitioner who specialized in chronic conditions. One of Dr. Hotchkins’s side slices?

“Your agent noticed you the moment you walked in,” Beau told her.