Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(53)

"Why did you tell everyone in town that I ditched you for a blond?" Mike asked, his eyes flashing fire.

"I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"Not me. Babs Dubinski spotted you taking a blond into your apartment complex last night."

"That was Shawna Lee. I was just taking her home."

"Shawna Lee lives with you?"

"Of course not! She lives in the same apartment complex, that's all. Her car wouldn't start and she needed groceries so I took her to the Red Owl."

"Oh," Hannah said, maintaining her pleasant expression. She wanted to ask Mike why that shopping trip had ended up at Bertanelli's Pizza, but she didn't.

"She invited me over to her place for dinner as a thank you, but she's a lousy cook and I took her out for pizza instead."

Hannah's suspicious heart did a little jump and skip as Mike smiled at her. She reminded herself that there was only one way Mike could know that Shawna Lee was a lousy cook, and her heart slowed to a regular rhythm again.

"You're probably wondering how I know she's a lousy cook," Mike said, appearing to read Hannah's mind.

"Actually… I was," Hannah admitted.

"We had a potluck lunch out at the station and she brought tuna hotdish. It was awful."

"Oh, really?" The hackles on the back of Hannah's neck subsided and she felt better immediately. At least the woman Mike claimed wasn't her competition was a lousy cook.

"There's only one exception and that's her baking. She makes great brownies."

"That's nice," Hannah said, making a mental note never to bake brownies for Mike.

"I've always been crazy about brownies," Mike went on, not realizing that he was digging a deeper hole. "And with Shawna Lee's brownies, you never know what kind of good things you're going to get. Last Thursday, she put in miniature marshmallows and pecans. It was almost like eating rocky road ice cream. Maybe you should try something like that, Hannah. They'd probably go over great in your shop."

Mike's grin was engaging, the kind of grin that conjured up thoughts in Hannah's mind of walking in the summer twilight holding hands, or ducking under a tall pine in the winter to share a kiss that chased away the cold. Then she reminded herself that Mike had just suggested she bake Shawna Lee's brownies to sell in her shop and she began to bristle. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, and she had the urge to kick Mike in the shins. It was only through supreme effort of will that she managed to keep both feet firmly on the floor mat.

"So are we all okay now?"

"Okay about what?" Hannah asked, rousing herself from contemplating how many years she might get for assault and battery on an acting sheriff.

"About me taking Shawna Lee out to the grocery store and then to Bertanelli's for pizza."

"Sure." What else could she say?

"And I guess I'd better tell you the rest before somebody else does it for me. After the pizza I went over to Shawna Lee's apartment to help her hook up her surround sound."

"That's neighborly," Hannah said, inwardly fuming.

"I think she'd give you her brownie recipe if I asked her. Do you want it?"

Hannah blinked away the red she saw before her eyes. "No, thanks. I'm sure I can come up with something on my own."

"When you do, I'll taste them for you. I can tell you if they're as good as hers."

"Right," Hannah said, and then she clamped her lips together before she could say any more and verbally abuse an acting sheriff.

"Bill's waiting for me. I've got to run."

Mike reached out for her and pulled her into his arms before Hannah could come up with the strength to resist. His lips came down on hers and even though Hannah knew she was being a slave to her own desires, she didn't pull back. Kissing Mike was like flirting with fire, passing the flame close enough to heat, but not burn.

"I really missed you, Hannah," Mike breathed, pulling her closer. And even though Hannah was in an awkward position with one foot wedged under the brake pedal, his embrace was still thrilling.

Long moments passed in pure bliss before Mike finally released her. Hannah could feel that her breathing was ragged and she took a deep breath and let it out again in a shuddering sigh.

"How about some night this week?" Mike asked, opening the passenger door.

"What?"

"Will you have dinner with me some night this week? I'll call you when I can get free and set up the time."

"Sure," Hannah said and then the manners Delores had taught her kicked in. "That would be really nice, Mike. Thank you for asking."

Mike reached over to touch her cheek and then he was gone. Hannah blinked as the door closed behind him and drew another deep breath. What would a more sophisticated woman do with a man like Mike? It didn't seem to matter how angry she was with him. He still made her knees turn weak, her pulse race, and her stomach bounce all the way down to her toes.

Hannah buckled her seatbelt, started her engine, and checked her rearview mirror to make sure that Mike and Bill had driven away. But all she saw was gray. Her windows were steamed up. She was a bit old at thirty, but she'd finally joined the ranks of teenage couples that kissed in parked cars in cold weather and steamed up the windows.