A Cookbook Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF

country and now living in an artsy area of San
     Francisco. If you were willing to overlook the aforementioned Birkenstocks issue,
     I was one classy babe.
    But then there was my strange proclivity for finding dead bodies. And tracking down
     murderers. And being threatened with death on more than one occasion.
    So maybe my life could be considered sort of exciting and dangerous, although I had
     never purposely sought out danger and adventure.
    Derek, on the other hand, made his living that way.
    So those were some of the thoughts I’d been pondering while away in Lake Tahoe. Frankly,
     I’d worried that we might not survive together in the long run.
    So imagine my shock when I learned that Derek had experienced some of those same worries
     and concerns. He’d admitted as much to me and had come home determined to show how
     much he loved me and wanted to build a life together.
    So the note of worry in his voice cut straight through me. Did he still harbor doubts
     about my feelings for him? If so, they were baseless.
    “I love you,” I said, staring at his back. “You can disrupt my life anytime you want.”
    He turned and crossed the kitchen in two steps, lifted me up from the barstool, and
     drew me into his arms. Covering my lipswith his, he held on to me as tightly as I’d ever been held. Then he buried his face
     in my hair.
    “I love you, Brooklyn.”
    “Good,” I said. “That’s a good thing.” I stroked his back, smoothed his hair, comforted
     him. He seemed to need it. And that was nice to know.
    After a long, quiet moment, I leaned back and looked at him. “To answer your question,
     I’d like to follow our original construction plan and keep everything on this floor.
     We’ll have lots more room, more open space, and easier access to all the bedrooms.”
    “Good,” he said, breaking into a smile. “I agree.”
    “Besides,” I reasoned, “all that running up and down the stairs all the time would
     get old. No, your first plan is better and I can’t wait to get started on it.” I paused
     a beat, then added, “So how’s that toast doing?”
    He chuckled. “It’s ready. Are you?”
    “Starving.”
    We sat and while we ate we talked over the construction plans and the timetable.
    Derek took a last sip of coffee. “My only real concern is the noise you’ll have to
     endure once the demolition begins.”
    “I’m not worried about the noise,” I insisted, taking another bite of toast.
    “You say that now.”
    He was right. The noise would be awful at times. But the thought of all those strangers
     tramping through my home disconcerted me more than any noise they would make. I wasn’t
     going to bring that up right now, though.
    He glanced at his watch. “I must get going.”
    “I’ve got to get to work, too. Leave the plates. I’ll clean up.”
    “Thank you, love.” He slipped his suit jacket on and used the dining room mirror to
     straighten his tie. I didn’t know a whole lot about men’s fashions, but I was fairly
     certain his gold-striped tiecost more than most of the outfits in my closet. Good thing I worked at home. In my
     Birkenstocks. And my pretty pink-and-green-striped socks.
    “Are you starting work on Savannah’s cookbook today?” he asked as we walked to the
     front door together.
    “I’ll start on it tomorrow. Today I think I’ll take the book over to show Ian, and
     then go have copies made of the pages.”
    “You don’t usually copy the pages, do you?”
    “Not usually, but I thought I might try out some of the recipes.”
    Despite years of professional training in security and intelligence, Derek couldn’t
     disguise that look of apprehension fast enough. “Ah. Hmm. That sounds nice.”
    “That’s what I figured you’d say, since they’re old English favorites.”
    “English food. Are you sure that’s what you want to try?”
    “Absolutely,” I said, watching him. “I was thinking of learning how to fricassee something.”
    I actually saw