Murder Al Fresco by Jennifer L. Hart Read Free Book Online

craziness?
    Donna would have to hook me up with some of her supermom juice. Or some more wine coolers.
    I bobbed and weaved my way through the crowd, scanning faces for someone I knew. Several were vaguely familiar, so either I'd seen them during my brief tenure on Flavor TV or they were Diced regulars.
    A hand landed on my shoulder. I turned and grinned up at the handsome face of Rodrigo Lobo. "Hello, stranger," he said in his rolling Venezuelan accent.
    "Hey, yourself." Much to my mortification, a blush stole over my face, same as it had every time I'd spoken to him at Flavor TV.
    "You don't call. You don't write," he gave me a what-gives, palms-up gesture and his trademarked, lady-killer smile. "And here I thought we were friends."
    "Always the flirt. How's the show?" Rodrigo's small show Muy Caliente had grown into a nationwide craze, and he'd left the network about a week before my dreadful debut. Unlike many of the other network stars, none of the blowback from the Flavor TV lawsuits had landed on his doorstep, which explained why he was still speaking to me.
    Rodrigo shrugged. "Can't complain. What about you, chica? Why don't I see your smiling face on the circuit?"
    I laughed before I realized he was serious. "Have you been living under a rock? I'm the Death Chef."
    " Sí, cocinero de la muerte," the man shrugged, shrugged , as if my giving a live studio audience a massive case of food poisoning was no biggie. "Mistakes happen. It's what you do after that counts. So, are you going to show me your place?"
    I was still stuck on the what you do after comment, and it took me a moment to realize he was gesturing to the Bowtie Angel. "Are you serious?"
    He grinned. " ¿Por qué no? Do you have something to hide?"
    I made an indignant scoffing sound, but in truth, I was daunted. Pride drove me to continue to expand and improve upon my family's brand, but still… The man owned a Michelin star restaurant for the love of grief, and he wanted to see my family's dinky little pasta shop?
    He slung an arm around my shoulders. "I like you, Andy. So I am going to give you some advice. You need to show confidence in everything you do, in all that you have."
    "Positive attitude attracts positive things. Yeah, I've heard that somewhere before."
    Rodrigo beamed. "That's it. Do not let one muy pequeño mistake define you. Now I insist you show me your restaurante ."
    I opened my mouth, but before I could form an answer, another accented voice called my name.
    "Andrea." Jones glared at the familiar arm Rodrigo had draped over me, and one eyebrow went up. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your…friend?"
    Uh-oh, I think I'd just pole-vaulted from the frying pan into the fire. Ducking out of Rodrigo's grip, I pasted on a small smile and said, "Rodrigo, this is my fiancé, Malcolm Jones. Malcolm, this is Chef Rodrigo Lobo. His show used to be on Flavor TV, until he hit the big time."
    A flash of even, white teeth as Rodrigo took in Jones. Jones bared his teeth as well, but only an idiot would mistake that expression for a smile. I scowled at him, but he didn't seem to notice, his gaze fixed on the younger man.
    Well, wasn't this awkward? I turned my body into Jones's, wondering what had his hackles up all of a sudden. Best to distract him. "Did you find Stu?"
    Slowly, Jones dragged his piercing, blue gaze to me. "No. I suggest we check in with your aunt though. She's feistier than usual."
    Well, at least now I knew which fire to put out first. Although Aunt Cecily was more of an atomic bomb blast, especially if she was riled. The woman didn't acclimate to change well, and between Pop's dietary restrictions and a town full of television people, she was probably poised to detonate.
    Giving Rodrigo a thin-lipped smile, I laced my arm through Jones's and practically dragged him away. "If you'll excuse us."
    If he was offended by our abrupt departure, he didn't let on. "I'll catch you later, chica. "
    A muscle jumped in Jones's jaw, but he