How did I get myself mixed up in this?
I’d been wandering the grounds and I’d stumbled across a body sprawled between the neat rows of grapes. Now instead of spending my day ensconced in the gazebo staring out over the escarpment and plotting erotic rendezvous for my romantic leads I was answering questions from a surly detective and his gorgeous partner. Both had me beyond tongue-tied but for different reasons.
Detective Constable Ralph Wesley reminded me of every authority figure I’d come across and he immediately intimidated me. I felt myself stammering and fighting the urge to burst into tears. He had a gruff manner, which was not easing my anxiety, and I thought I was going to pass out. I stumbled over my reason for my vacation feeling my face getting hotter and hotter as I explained what type of author I was. I could smut it up with the best of them but I always felt like a guilty Catholic schoolgirl whenever I had to vocalize my genre choice.
Detective Sergeant Mauro Angellotti was the handsomest man I’d ever seen and the fact he was treating me like a skittish animal had my heart beating double time.
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