Runaway Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

added, bringing a cup and saucer to the table. He sniffed the air. “Nothing smells quite as bad as that, does it? Wet dog?”
    Things in the diner seemed to settle into a routine that everyone but Jennifer was accustomed to. The dog lay under the table at her mistress’s feet, Louise pulled her own paper out of the large satchel hidden under her coat, Adolfo muttered in Spanish as he mopped the floor inside the door, and Buzz was putting out coffee cups along the counter. Mopping done, Adolfo was back at the grill, cooking and whistling. Louise seemed to be humming along, albeit off-key.
    Jennifer went back to her paper and coffee. It wasn’t very long before he was back again. Buzz. This time he had a plate. Unable to resist the temptation to feed her, he brought scrambled eggs, wheat toast and sausage. He put it down in the middle of her paper. “You a vegetarian?” he asked.
    She shook her head. She treated him to a smile. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”
    “I’ll get you some juice. You ought to have juice.”
    She thought about the last time she had had eggs. It was in the suite with Nick. She’d been wearing a silk peignoir designed by Vera Wang. Eggs Benedict, served under sterling with mimosas and braised potatoes. A beautiful tray of pastries had been sent up with the brunch, but Jennifer never touched sweets. She didn’t have her figure by accident.
    “Here’s your juice.”
    “Um, would you mind…? Could I have a jelly doughnut please? A big one?”
    A genuinely happy smile broke over his face. Buzz liked seeing people eat. He had that doughnut in front of her in no time. “Eat your eggs first,” he said.
    “Yes, sir.”
    That was one thing about going undercover, she thought. You don’t have to constantly diet. And I’ll be damned if I’ll ever again work on my looks for a man!
    She flipped open the menu that sat behind the napkin dispenser and looked at the prices of what she was eating and drinking. The food was so cheap she almost gasped out loud. How in the world could he make a living, giving food away like that?
    Her mind wandered to her classy little condo on the Fort Lauderdale beach. She often had her breakfast, or at least morning coffee, on the veranda with a spectacular view of the ocean. It was small but elegant, furnished by Henredon, decorated by Nelson Little out of New York. Her carpet and sofas and chairs and ottomans were white accented with ecru, plum and eggplant pillows and throws.
    Nick would probably have it up for sale in a week. The homeless of Fort Lauderdale would no doubt be wearing her designer labels within the month.
    Buzz’s eggs were delicious. Melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Must use a ton of butter.
    A few people wandered in while Jennifer ate and all of them knew Buzz and Louise. Adolfo would occasionally peek over the back counter and say, “Buenos días.” There was a man in his fifties who took a quick cup of coffee on his way to opening up his store, the young housewives she’d seen jogging in the park a while earlier who had been suddenly drenched by the rain stopped in and a woman pulled her car right up to the front door and ran in to have her thermos filled. From the conversation, Jennifer gathered she was a Realtor, one not exactly thrilled about showing houses in such weather.
    She noticed the elderly woman, Louise, getting to her feet and shrugging into her coat.
    “Hey there, Louise. Let Adolfo give you a lift home. It’s still drizzling.”
    “I won’t melt,” she said.
    “I’m not worried about melting. I’m worried about slipping.”
    “Watch your step, then,” she shot back, clearly knowing full well he was worried about her slipping. This made Jennifer laugh and say, “You tell him, Louise.”
    “You know what I mean….” Buzz said.
    “I walk here to walk, not to ride. I’m not worried about a little rain.”
    Alice lumbered to her feet, stretched almost painfully, and took slow steps toward the door with her