Elvis and the Blue Christmas Corpse by Peggy Webb Read Free Book Online Page A

man who only yesterday advised me to lure Champ with more cleavage.
    “You’re just angling for a home-cooked meal.”
    “No.” He tips his chair back, looking every bit as cocky as he is handsome. “I’m just trying to get you out of that sweater.”
    I might have to kill him. And Lovie’s being no help at all. She’s sitting there laughing.
    “Don’t encourage him, Lovie.”
    Fortunately, her cell phone rings. She snatches it up like her National Treasure is on fire and whoever is on the other end of the line is fixing to fan the flames.
    “Wayne.” She’s all but cooing. She’s only mentioned Wayne Hunter to me once, and in a way that always spells trouble. You couldn’t get me out of this kitchen if man-eating African lions were roaring my way.
    “That sounds wonderful,” she says into her phone. She makes four syllables of wonderful. This is bad.
    Even worse, she races up the stairs, moving faster than I’ve seen her move since we crash-landed the hot-air balloon and got chased by a bunch of mad pigs.
    “What next?” I ask, and Jack says, “Let her have her fun, Cal. Maybe it’ll take her mind off Charlie.”
    Mama told him about the accident, of course. Or maybe it was Uncle Charlie. He and Jack are closer than father and son. And I think it’s more than bonding because of a mutual background with the Company.
    I sit down opposite Jack, then put my hands in my lap so I won’t be tempted to smooth back the lock of dark hair that won’t stay out of his eyes.
    “Do you think what happened at the mall was an accident, Jack?”
    “Maybe. I just want you to be careful.”
    “Careful is my middle name.”
    “I thought it was trouble.”
    His crooked grin gets me every time. Fortunately, Lovie is back. Unfortunately, she is carrying her French maid’s uniform.
    “Holy cow, Lovie. What are you doing with that thing?”
    “My fiancé likes it.”
    “Since when has Wayne been your fiancé?”
    “Since I decided to push him in that direction.”
    “Lovie, maybe you ought to slow down. You’ve been out with him, what? Five times? When you’re on the rebound, it’s no time to be getting serious with somebody else.”
    “Speaking of rebound . . .” Lovie raises one eyebrow, and I blush to the roots of my glossy, natural brown hair. I’m not about to admit that I’m on the rebound or that my situation with Jack and Champ is anything like Lovie’s with Rocky and Wayne. Because it’s not. She goes through bad boys like bags of popcorn, and I’ve only ever in my life been in love with one man. And he happens to be sitting across the table from me keeping his mouth shut for once. Thank goodness.
    When the doorbell rings, I almost faint with relief. It’s Champ, looking really, really appealing in a cashmere coat that sets off his shoulders to a tee. My mouth ought to be watering.
    When Jack comes up behind me and says, “Come on in,” I realize I’m standing there like a doorstop thinking about who my mouth waters over and why.
    Champ says, “Good evening” all around, then, “All set, Callie?”
    I reach for my wrap, but Jack already has it. He takes what feels like two weeks draping it around me. Then with his hands on my shoulders and his body heat burning through the back of my cape, he proceeds to treat Champ to a long-winded lecture.
    “Be careful tonight. There’ll be lots of Christmas shoppers out, and some of them will be driving like maniacs.”
    “I know. I’ve had my license a while.”
    Lovie and I giggle at Champ’s dry wit, but Jack remains poker-faced.
    “Stay away from the mall. After what happened today, I don’t think Callie should be near there.”
    “On that, we agree,” Champ says.
    “If you have to get coffee, go to Starbucks on West Main. And be sure Callie has decaffeinated. Caffeine keeps her awake at night.”
    “Do you have an instruction manual, Jack? Maybe I ought to read it before we go.” Champ is grinning and taking all this bad advice in