Page 5 of Frosted and Sliced

After a generous thirty seconds in which the proprietor failed to show, he shouldered his pack and headed up the stairs,where he spent an almost enjoyable twenty minutes breaking into rooms and deciding which he would take for himself. He alleviated any social constraints by telling himself he wasn’t aiming for the best room. That would go to Ribs, a double with a generous bathroom and two televisions. No, all Burke wanted was an escape hatch, in case one was needed. And in Burke’s case, one was almost always needed.

When he was satisfied with his room situation, he was about to slip out of the inn undetected when he ran—almost literally—into the woman who of course almost tumbled down the stairs. In Burke’s experience, women were calamitous that way, always stumbling into disasters or near disasters, from which they had to be rescued. He assumed this one was harder headed than most because she at first ignored his attempt to tell her where she went wrong. When he realized she was nearly deaf, he felt his first jolt.

The second jolt arrived when she turned her face toward him and he realized how young and soft and tiny she was. Did they let children own inns now? Of course he’d peeped her personal records and knew she was twenty seven, almost twenty eight. That was only six years behind him, but when did those six years start making such a visible difference? And she’d lived in New York? Who allowed such a tiny, vulnerable creature go to such a big, dangerous city? Like letting an ant go in a cornfield of orb spiders. Clearly the brother was derelict in his duties and Burke would have to have a word.

The third jolt showed up as soon as the second one left because why did he possibly care about the tiny stranger and her unknown cop brother? He couldn’t remember the last time he had a full conversation with another human, and now he’d squashed one and held her captive for an in depth look at her life. Worse, he feltbadabout it. So he put the stupid mints on the stupid pillows and, okay, maybe he paused to arrange the towelsfor Ribs’s kids. But he might have done that anyway because he’d done an undercover stint on a cruise ship and learned some things. Mostly that no one should ever be on a cruise ship in international waters because it was way too easy to murder an ambassador and make it look like an accident. Also how to fold towels like bunnies, and when else would that skill come in handy?

Something weird was going on with him. He should probably head out into the woods and stake a good spot. Of course he had that thought as he opened his suitcase and hid his weapons all around the room, thereby marking his territory and making himself at home.

I’m not going to become soft, and I’m not going to let the hedgehog woman-child get to me,he thought. He took a deep, steadying breath, puffing it out in a fast exhale when he detected the soothing scent of cinnamon.Whatever that is, I won’t eat it,he promised himself, tapping his fist on his rock hard abs, as if to remind himself they were there and accounted for, all six of them.I’m here for the job. I’ll deliver the training, gather the check, and head home.

He finished the thought with a nod, left his room, and drifted toward the kitchen.

Georgette was a trained chef, not that it mattered to anyone in town. It had never mattered as much as she wanted it to. When she left home at eighteen, her education was supposed to be her ticket to acceptance. Leaving home forever was never in the cards for her; Brody couldn’t take it. Not after he gave up his career to care for her, that would be a terrible way to repay him. And, truth be told, she never wanted to leaveMaine. New York had been interesting, but so foreign and busy that it gave her a constant buzz of anxiety that never seemed to quell until she returned home again. All she wanted, all she had ever wanted, was acceptance.

For the thousandth time, she asked herself if she would have fit if she could hear. Was her hearing loss all that held her back? Or was there something truly wrong with her that kept her from fitting in? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been fixed with a fancy culinary certification. She had been trained by the most elite pastry chefs in the entire world, and everyone in her hometown treated her as if she’d never left, if they even acknowledged her at all. Most people were content to ignore her, never certain how much she could hear, afraid to mess up talking to her. Conversely, they loved to talk to Brody. Her brother was the chief of police, a beloved figure since high school. Georgie remained an afterthought. The most notoriety in her life came from the tragic and early loss of her parents, something she never wanted to be known for.I’m right here,she wanted to shout, when people waylaid Brody for a conversation and ignored Georgie completely.

When her degree failed to give her the acceptance she longed for, she bought an inn instead. Certainly if she became a business owner, the town would have to take notice.

Except apparently they did not.

Until Elyse returned and started directing traffic toward her, both by word of mouth and with her magical computer skills, no one so much as acknowledged Georgie’s new venture. And certainly no one remembered that she was a classically trained chef. Elyse knew, however, and asked Georgie if she would add supper into the mix this weekend.Your food is better than anything in town, and we’re not really the mingling type. It would be better if you became a full-service inn, while we’re there.Despite the extra work, it hadn’t taken much convincing.She would set the meals up like a buffet, discounting the need for a server. Extra cleanup would be involved, but she could handle it.

She was so deep in thought chopping carrots that it took her a while to realize someone else was in the room. When she looked up and saw the creepy man lurking near the stairway, watching her, she made a sound that was probably more like a screech than a scream. Not being able to hear it, she had no idea what the noise sounded like, but it couldn’t have been good, based on the expression his face made. Then she did the first thing her instinct demanded and threw the knife.

It whirled in the air, end over end directly toward his face, with the enthusiasm of a sideshow participant at a circus. Georgie watched in horror as the blade zoomed toward his head, imagined the deadly point ready to impale itself in his brain as he did nothing to avoid it. Was he frozen? Why didn’t he dodge out of the way?

At the last second, his hand came up and snatched the blade from midair, closing around the handle with ease.

“You have skills,” he said as he took a few steps forward and set the knife on the counter, returning it to its proper place. Georgie stared at it, wide-eyed, wondering how it so easily went from a tool to chop carrots to a potential tool of death.

“You scared me,” she blurted. She had never considered herself the reactionary sort who took out her bad moods on others, but this man had startled her so badly twice in one day that it had to be on purpose, didn’t it? Was he using her hearing loss against her, in some sort of predatory way?

He knocked on the counter between them, snagging her attention. “You’re glaring at your knife,” he noted, waiting to speak until she could read his lips.

“You’re lurking,” she accused.

“I do that.” He sat on the stool at the counter. “What are you cooking?”

“Everything.” She picked up the knife and resumed chopping, sliding the carrots into the pot. “So, you’re the guy who’s leading the seminar.”

He gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, but his body was tense, not inviting further comment. Georgie wasn’t usually the type to stay silent. Ever curious, she liked to know about people, the more, the better. It wasn’t that she was a gossip. In fact there were few people in her life she talked to on a routine basis, mostly her tight-lipped brother. If she told Brody a secret, it was guaranteed not to go any farther. But learning about people, studying their ways, made her feel less excluded.Call me Jane Goodall,she thought. She was here to observe the chimpanzees. The current chimp now sitting at her kitchen island obviously did not want to talk about himself, however, and for some reason Georgie lacked the will to probe him, as she otherwise might have. Maybe it was because they got off on the wrong foot, literally, or maybe she was too tired and distracted by all the work she’d need to do to survive the upcoming week—full meals and housekeeping for a loaded inn was no joke, even with all the clever shortcuts she’d developed.

When he realized she wasn’t about to prod or question him further, he relaxed slightly, even going so far as to rest his chin on his closed fist. Somehow Georgie knew that was a sign of his ease in this space, like a dog showing her its belly.

“What?” he asked, and Georgie realized she was staring at him, picturing him rolled on his back, with his soft underside exposed.

She shook her head, dispelling the image. Maybe she’d hit her head harder than she realized, because what on earth was wrong with her?

The guy glanced at his watch in a way that made Georgie wonder if he’d received a notification. He pushed a button, took a breath, and let it out as if he were gearing up for something. When he caught sight of Georgie watching him, he said, “Gotta go. People.” Then he stood, pushed in the stool he’d been using, and disappeared.

CHAPTER 3

“…then, with a simple twist of the device, the carotid easily separates from the…” Burke paused mid-sentence. At the back of the room, Georgie’s wide eyes told him she’d heard at least part of his presentation.

Ribs, who sat in the front row like a model pupil, raised his hand. “Did you forget what the carotid attaches to? Should we sing you the song to help you remember? The carotid attaches to the skull bone…”

“I don’t think it’s called the skull bone,” Elyse interrupted his off-key song. “And I don’t think it attaches to that.”

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