3 Revenge of the Crafty Corpse Read Online Free PDF Page B

was making a run to ShopRite before heading home.
    Hell, if all else failed, I made a mean mac and cheese. I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I’d find a bag of frozen peas hiding in the deep recesses of the freezer. Cheese, pasta, veggies. Major food groups covered. But could I sell mac and cheese to the starving masses in the middle of a blistering heat wave?
    However, when I finally arrived home, the moment I opened the front door, all thoughts of mac and cheese—with or without peas—flew from my thoughts.

three
    I may have suffered a lollapalooza of a triple whammy when Karl permanently cashed in his chips in Las Vegas, but there is one bright spot in the chaos that has become my life—photojournalist and to-die-for stud, Zachary Barnes.
    The apartment over our garage used to house my studio. It now houses Zachary Barnes, my tenant. Zack entered my life within days of Karl’s funeral, after I ran an ad to rent out the apartment.
    Even though attraction sparked from the beginning, fanned in no small part by the none-too-subtle maneuverings of Mama, Alex, and Nick, protocol dictated a platonic relationship. Karl’s deceit not withstanding, I was still newly widowed. For all I knew, those sparks shooting through my body could have been a reaction to the anger stage of my grief—anger directed toward Dead Louse of a Spouse.
    However, two near-death experiences in less than five months made me realize I’d mourned Dead Louse of a Spouse long enough. Zack and I went on our first and only date so far three weeks ago. Where this blossoming relationship eventually leads is anyone’s guess, but right now I’ve given myself permission to enjoy the journey.
    Who would have thought that a guy who looks like Pierce Brosnan , George Clooney, Patrick Dempsey, and Antonio Banderas all contributed to his gene pool would be interested in a pear-shaped, cellulite-riddled, slightly overweight, more than slightly in debt, middle-aged widow? Certainly not me. But there Zack was in my life. And if that weren’t enough, the guy can out-cook Jamie Oliver, Bobby Flay, and Emeril Lagasse. All together. With one hand tied behind his back.
    Yeah, he’s that good. And his cooking doesn’t hold a candle to his kissing. I can only imagine his other talents at this point. We haven’t taken our relationship to that level yet.
    Zack had spent the last two and a half weeks on assignment in Madagascar. I didn’t even know he’d returned until I saw his Porsche Boxster parked in the driveway, and the aroma of something taste bud-seducing hit me the moment I walked into the house.
    Mama’s never met a recipe she didn’t mutilate, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are about the extent of Nick’s and Alex’s culinary skills. So unless the food gods had sent me my own personal chef, those tantalizing aromas wafting toward me meant Zack was creating gastronomic magic in my kitchen.
    “Hey,” I said as I entered the kitchen. Zack stood stirring something on the stove. Ralph, my African Grey parrot, perched on his shoulder. “When did you get home?” I asked.
    “ Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home tonight ?” squawked Ralph. “ Romeo and Juliet . Act Two, Scene Four.”
    Did I mention Ralph spouts Shakespeare? Only Shakespeare. And always circumstance-appropriate quotes, thanks to decades of residing in Great-aunt Penelope Periwinkle’s classroom. When Aunt Penelope died two and a half years ago, I inherited Ralph. There are times I would have preferred inheriting her cameo collection, but those went to Mama. At least Ralph is potty trained.
    “A couple of hours ago.” Zack abandoned the sauté pan and greeted me with one of those kisses. He ended the kiss before I was ready and turned his attention back to the sauté pan. Mushrooms in a wine reduction sauce if my olfactory sense was any judge of such things.
    “And after flying halfway round the world, you felt the need to cook a gourmet dinner?”
    “I