Page 1 of Rules of Engagement

Chapter One

"It's a mystery," said Solomon. His dark eyes pierced me with the kind of look that I was sure he usually reserved for a special type of criminal. I may have been many things but I wasn't that brand of criminal. At the top of my list of personal identities I, Lexi Graves, was a private investigator, an occasional lawbreaker, and a snappy dresser. Not to mention, John Solomon's fiancée, his number one employee at the Solomon Detective Agency, and maybe a little too hot for my own good. I was also deeply humble but that fell to the bottom of the list.

I paused and looked up at my soon-to-be husband and frowned. "What is?"

"How someone your size can eat so many wedding cake samples."

Scowling, I looked down at the tray our wedding planner had placed in front of us. He was right; it was a mystery how all the samples managed to disappear.

We sat in a pretty, but not overly feminine room, strictly reserved for clients, at the rear of the salon. One of the reasons we chose it was because it was only a few blocks away from the agency. The walls were painted a soft sky blue and all the furniture was French in style although thoroughly American in manufacturing. Framed photos of happy couples in their wedding finery dotted the walls; and the big, glass-fronted armoire contained all kinds of wedding fripperies a soon-to-be bride like me might want to snap up: jeweled hair combs, a pair of sky-high heels in white satin, and long strands of cultured pearls. Solomon was dressed for the occasion in a pair of nice slacks, a gray shirt and a tie. I was more casual in my jeans and a sky blue blouse with little scallops across the front. I had a sneaking suspicion that I probably blended very well into the background.

When the cake tray first arrived, we saw samples of two dozen flavors, each cut into neat, little squares, just large enough for the two of us to demolish with the delicate, silver forks our wedding planner had so graciously provided. Lemon, carrot, chocolate, fruit, with every buttercream frosting I could think of were attractively presented to entice us. We were allotted two slices of each flavor, one for Solomon and one for me. Unfortunately, when it came to cake, I wasn't a very good sharer. Nor, apparently, was Solomon. Not when it came to wedding cake! I'd never seen him indulge himself like that although he did look very satisfied. Now the tray held nothing but a few crumbs, the scant remains of the decimated but very tasty cakes. "They're really good," I sighed, shamelessly licking my fingers.

"And now you're not even sharing the buttercream frosting," complained Solomon.

I held out one sticky finger and he licked it. "That's my favorite," he said, his eyes closing in bliss.

"Duly noted. I will be sure to inform the wedding planner that our cake should taste like a human finger dipped in vanilla buttercream. I doubt our guests will like it but your happiness is uppermost in its importance to me."

Solomon cracked a smile, then laughed.

Francesca White came highly recommended by several of my mother's friends who had recently managed to get their offspring married. Knowing my skills were better directed towards catching criminals and purchasing online bargains than choosing the perfect flower arrangement, the idea of hiring a wedding planner looked like a very good solution. Plus, I feared that if Solomon were left to all the decision-making, he might opt to give us more adventure than I was already anticipating on my wedding day. Naturally, I didn't hesitate to hire Francesca. So far, it was a decision I didn't regret. We might not have set a date for the nuptials or even the reception venue, but we were pretty close to making a decision on the cake, something that ranked very high in my list of favorite things about weddings, and life, in general. Thinking about it though... I slowly pushed the empty cake tray away. "I do want to fit into an elegant, form-fitted dress," I said.

"You haven't even been to a bridal shop yet," pointed out Solomon. He stopped and glanced at me as if I might surprise him. "Or have you?"

"No." Not this week anyway. I rather cleverly solved a wedding dress theft ring, one which involved my best friend, and newest sister-in-law, Lily, and it resulted in her receiving her dream wedding dress. At least, now I knew which bridal gown shops I would visit with my entourage. That consisted of whomever would have been too insulted if I didn't invite them. I narrowed my list down to my mom, (especially after she offered to buy the dress), Lily, and both of my other sisters-in-law, Traci and Alice. I was still debating whether or not I wanted my sister, Serena, there. For the sake of family relations, however, the answer probably would end up being yes. But if that suddenly caused a tulle-shaped meltdown from yours truly, it would definitely be her fault!

"Delgado says Serena bought her dress," said Solomon.

"I think she bought two." I sighed. My ever-efficient sister wasted no time, as usual. Our engagements occupied a similar time frame but Serena was way ahead of us in her wedding planning. "Since when do you two sit around talking about bridal gown shopping?" I wondered.

"It passes the time while we clean our guns."

"If you wore face masks, you would be really multi-tasking."

Solomon blinked. "Balaclavas?"

"I was thinking oatmeal or mud. A little pore cleansing and skin brightening."

"I don't know what those things are."

The door clicked open before our wedding planner entered. "Sorry, for stepping out," said Francesca. "One of my brides had a meltdown. I advised her not to buy a dress a size too small but did she listen? No! It's lucky for her that I can get her dress to a brilliant seamstress. What did you think of the... oh! I see you really liked the cake." Her eyes widened at the sight of the fully decimated cake tray.

"He did that," I said while pointing at Solomon.

"Sharing is caring," said Francesca, shaking her head at him in a mock reproach. Solomon took a deep breath. "I hope you both remembered to mark the cards with your favorites," she said, reaching for the two little cards that were strategically placed on the tray next to the cake. "Let's see. Everything on this card is marked ten out of ten! And on this one... okay, you both loved everything. That's great. Just great. But what do you love the most?"

Solomon looked at me and smiled.

Francesca sighed. "You two are so perfect," she squealed as she clapped her hands together. The sudden noise in the peaceful salon made me jump. "I just know your wedding will be wonderful but we do need to start making some decisions. The venue, for example, as well as the date. And what about the flavor of the cake?" she asked, firing her questions in rapid succession.

I glanced ruefully at the remaining crumbs and wondered if anyone would mind if I licked the tray. "I can't decide," I said. "Just make it round."

"Not the flavor, but okay." Francesca glanced at Solomon. "Perhaps I should ask you for your favorite flavor and then maybe we could decide about the decorations and perhaps, how many tiers?"

"Lexi doesn't cry."

"Not those kind of tears... Oh, very funny," she said, and Solomon smiled.

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