Criminal Confections Read Online Free PDF

station—whose challenge seemed to involve a taste-off between various chocolate liqueurs—I glimpsed Adrienne at the Toll House cookie-themed station. She looked beleaguered. Neither of her teammates were in the vicinity, but she did have a messenger bag slung crossways around her torso, bulging with papers. Maybe, I reasoned, she’d come prepared for this event with research notes and tips?
    â€œI don’t know !” she was wailing. “I’m having a brain fade!”
    Or maybe not. Struck by Adrienne’s fraught tone, I stopped.
    â€œI know I should know this. I do know this,” she was telling the Lemaître employee who was manning the cookie station. “But I didn’t sleep much last night, and I’ve been busy working all day, and I wouldn’t even be here at all, except—”
    That’s when I butted in. “Hi, Adrienne. Need some help?”
    Startled, the chocolatier glanced from me to the cookie station to a spot behind me—probably the spot where Bernard and Isabel were bringing up the rear. Or maybe giving each other hickeys. Anything was possible. Adrienne waved her scorecard.
    â€œHayden! I’m such a dummy. My team split up for efficiency. I was supposed to do this station, but I missed it somehow.” Adrienne bit her lip. She cast a frantic glance at the grounds, as though looking for Mr. Yellow T-shirt and his cohort. “If I don’t do it, we’ll lose! But for some reason, I can’t remember—”
    Her gaze dipped to my scorecard. Comprehension crossed her face. She glanced over her shoulder at the final station.
    â€œNever mind. You should go!” Adrienne shoved me—pretty hard for such a small woman. “Hurry up! You can still win!”
    I could. I cast a wistful glance toward my original goal, then shrugged. “I’ll win another time. No biggie.” I eyed the cookies, chose a particularly tasty-looking chocolate-studded specimen, then handed it to Adrienne. “Try eating this. Maybe you just need a boost, so you can think straight. If I don’t eat, my ability to concentrate goes right out the window.”
    â€œOh, it’s not that! I’ve been sampling test chocolates all day.” Nevertheless, Adrienne chomped off a giant bite of cookie. Nervously, she chewed, casting another fretful glance at the retreat attendees. It seemed that she was looking for someone—probably her yellow-shirted potential paramour. “Caffeinated chocolates. You know, for the new Lemaître nutraceutical line?”
    Her worried gaze probed mine. All I could do was shift uneasily. Part of my report on Lemaître concerned that line of chocolates. They were supposed to have healthy—even medicinal—benefits. Hence the “nutraceutical” tag—a mashup of “nutrition” and “pharmaceutical.” Christian was putting a lot of emphasis on the line, but I knew it had issues.
    I didn’t want to go into it. My analysis of the caffeinated chocolates line could wait. I knew it might devastate Adrienne, who’d already spent months developing it. Those were the breaks in the chocolate business, but I didn’t revel in that fact.
    Reassuringly, I patted her shoulder. “You’re very talented, Adrienne. Just take another look at the Toll House quiz. Okay?”
    To my relief, my diversionary tactic worked. Adrienne still seemed jumpy and apprehensive, but that might be explained by the fact that she’d apparently been mainlining the equivalent of mini chocolate-covered caffeinated energy drinks for hours now.
    Me? After one of those drinks “with wings,” I’m a goner.
    My vice is chocolate. I definitely don’t need extra “energy” revving up my already manic simian tendencies.
    I nudged Adrienne. “Go ahead. Which recipe is it?”
    With one hand hovering over a Toll House cookie recipe, she hesitated. She exhaled, then