Page 63 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “There seems to have been a mistake. Your email signature said you were a wedding planner, and our intern got her wires crossed.”

“Can’t you just put us in a different suite?”

“We’re fully booked. The honeymoon suite was the last room available.”

“Then we’ll have to find somewhere else.”

Which would take more time, and I wanted to find out what happened in that damn store.

“Kim, you take the suite. I’ll sleep where I planned to stay all along.”

Her mouth set in a thin little line. “No, you will not.”

“If it helps, we could put a cot in the room,” the manager offered. “And discount the price by fifty percent.”

“Perfect.” She gave a tight yet triumphant smile. “We’ll go straight up.”

A cot was better than the car, and half price made an obscenely expensive room marginally more affordable. I’d have preferred to save the money towards a rental deposit, but I also wanted to avoid having an argument with Kim in the hotel reception. I went to pick up the bags, but a porter got there before me, tutting.

“I’ll take these right to your room, sir.”

Kim walked after him, leaving me to bring up the rear.

“Pleased with yourself, Mrs. Cullen?” I asked.

“Stop calling me that. You’re not my type, anyway.”

That stung more than I thought it would. “Whatisyour type?”

“Do you ask all your clients that?”

“Just the pretty ones.”

“Ugh.”

CHAPTER 19 - KIMBERLY

“DO YOU ASK all your clients that?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. One of the few useful things I’d learned from my father. Once, I’d have described my type as older, refined, with a good sense of humour and enough money to keep us both comfortably. After Alan, I’d changed my views somewhat as I embarked on my new life as a single girl who didn’t want to be tied down. Looks became more important because like all girls, I appreciated shiny things, and he had to have an excellent working knowledge of his equipment and preferably mine too.

Reed Cullen was certainly easy on the eye if not a little brutish, but the question was, had he studied the operating manual?

Kim, don’t even think about that.

“Just the pretty ones,” he said.

“Ugh.”

Hold on—he thought I was pretty?

The porter held the door open, and I handed him a tip as I walked through. The living area was beautifully decorated with flocked cream wallpaper, a pair of dusky-pink sofas, and a vase of fresh roses. Reed could sleep in here, and at half price, we’d gotten a bargain.

At least, I thought so until I carried my bag into the other room and saw the dead girl lying on the bed.

“What the actual heck?”

Her eyes widened. “OMG! You’re one of those Electi people! I’ve heard all about you! Listen, you have to help me. My name’s Erin Roxbury, and my husband poisoned me on our wedding night. Our freaking wedding night! I was literally sitting right here when he told the doctor I’d clutched at my chest and then keeled over from a heart attack, the lying bastard. He pretended to do CPR and everything. It was money, that’s what it was. My trust fund and the house my parents gave us as a wedding gift. He couldn’t even wait until after the honeymoon, the needle-dicked asshole.”

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