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He tugged on his black t-shirt that outlined all his delicious muscles. The first thing I noticed about him at the wedding was how tall he was—at least six-six. When I stood beside him, I felt petite. “But you didn’t come here to talk about my relationship woes. You said you need my services?”
My breath caught. Why was I taking his words sexually?
Because I hadn’t dated anyone in over a year, that was why. Even my grannie knew I was hanging around my apartment alone. Ugh.
Shaking off my mortification, I explained what happened with my grandmother.
Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his desk. They were sinful forearms. Muscular, covered in gorgeous blue skin thatwasa bit like the sky. Nothing Smurf-like at all. “Who was there while she was making the punch?” he asked, dragging my brain back to the situation.
“She said no one. She likes to make it alone. It’s a secret recipe, though I know it, of course.”
“Of course.” He frowned.
“I made it for the social club after Grannie fell and broke her hip. She was in the hospital and then rehab, but everyone loves her punch, so I dropped by and made it for them. She had to share the recipe, or I wouldn’t have been able to do it for her.”
“But you didn’t make the punch this time?”
“No, she’s doing better, so she took over the task again. On that evening, she insisted I drop her off at the church function room and leave. I don’t attend the club meetings. It’s just her and six other church members.”
“I’ll need their names since I’ll investigate each of them.” Sitting back in his chair, he frowned. “Tell me more.”
“Grannie made the punch and then went to the bathroom. When she returned, everyone had arrived, and they’d started drinking the punch. She waspissed. She wanted to serve them, not have them dish it up themselves. She takes her punch quite seriously.”
“I’m sure she does. You said everyone got sick?”
“I think so. By the time she came out of the bathroom,some were vomiting while others had fallen and passed out on the floor. One is still hospitalized.”
“Who?”
“Grannie’s best friend since high school, Sue. As for the others, the hospital had to pump out a few of their stomachs. My grandmother’s horrified about this. Completely distraught. She didn’t do anything, but she’s been accused, and Detective Carter suggested it’s basically a closed case.”
“Did they determine what the toxin was?”
“Xylitol.”
“The sugar alcohol?” His head tilted. “Does her punch recipe include Xylitol?”
“No added sweeteners at all. Her recipe’s a secret but . . .” I peered around to make sure we were alone, then leaned close to him, trying not to notice how nice he smelled. I caught the scent of apples with cinnamon, bergamot, as if he’d recently drank a cup of Earl Grey tea, and, strangely enough, a note of something akin to the lovely scent that fills the air after rain falls in the forest. “Her special ingredient is multi-colored sherbet. It gives the punch a creamy sweetness everyone adores.”
“It sounds amazing. You said Sue’s still in the hospital?”
“She already had kidney problems, and this isn’t helping. I guess Xylitol can be toxic to the kidneys if you ingest it in large enough quantities. They’re hoping there won’t be lasting damage. But Grannie might go to jail for the crime.” My chest was so tight, I could barely breathe. “She’s eighty. She won’t survive anything like that. You’ve got to help us.” My throat was tight, and it was all I coulddo to get the words out. Stress made me shake. My grandmother had not done this, but how were we going to find out who did?
“I promise we’ll figure this out.” He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and wrote a few things down. With his pen poised, he looked up at me through his incredibly long, black lashes, another sinful thing about this man. “Where did she buy her ingredients? Was she alone?”
“I’ve been purchasing everything for her. Until she broke her hip, she was getting around okay, though she’s been slowing. I guess it’s natural with her age. I’m happy to take her wherever she needs to go, to do things like this for her. Her Saturday night church social club is one of the few activities she insists on attending regularly. They hold a potluck dinner. Grannie always makes her secret punch. After they eat, they dance, though Grannie only sways since she’s still using a walker. Then they play poker.”
His thick, dark eyebrows lifted. “Poker?”
“Would you believe they play for money? In church, though the function hall is attached to the main building, not inside. For someone as straightlaced as my Grannie Rose, she’s a regular card shark. She wins almost every time and often comes home with a few hundred dollars.”
“She sounds like an incredible person.”
I grinned. Despite her stiff demeanor, I adored my grandmother. “She really is. Everyone loves her.” I leaned back in my chair. “My mother died when I was twelve, and she stepped in and finished raising me. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”
“You don’t have any other family?”
“It’s just us. I had no siblings, and my dad took off before I was born. He died before Mom. I’ve got a few aunts and uncles, but they live on the other side of the country and never visit. Other than one stepcousin—”
