Book Excerpt From "A Fool and His Honey: An Aurora Teagarden Mystery"
We talked about how many smokers Pan-Am Agra employed, and mulled over other mundane topics as Martin stripped, showered, and redressed. Martin is almost thirteen years my senior, but he looks absolutely great without his clothes on, and he’s just as attractive dressed. He has snowy white hair, but his eyebrows are still black, and his eyes are a light, light brown. He lifts weights and his racquetball games are endurance tests for the younger members of the management staff.
“Didn’t you say you had your physical today?” Looking at Martin’s physique had prompted another train of thought.
“Yes,” he said, rather shortly. My wifely antennae perked, tuned in to what he wasn’t saying.
“Wasn’t everything all right?” Martin had never had a bad physical. In fact, he was usually boastful after his annual checkup, required by the plant.
“Zelman wants me to have a full battery of tests. Just because I’m getting older,” Martin added hastily, before I could even fully develop my concerned expression.
“Did he ﬁnd anything?” I asked, in the voice that said he better let me know everything.
“He said I was stressed. He just wants to run some more tests.” Martin was standing in front of his closet picking out his clothes for the evening. I understood from his tone that the subject was closed.
“We’ll schedule those right away,” I suggested.
“Sure, I’ll get Mrs. Sands to do it tomorrow. Did I tell you she’s going to be a grandmother?”
“Is she happy about it?”
“Oh, yes, she’s already named the baby and picked out a preschool. Not that her daughter knows about that . . .”
All this chatter was a delaying tactic of Martin’s, while he thought over whatever Regina had told him.
“What’d Regina say?” I asked, as he used his electric razor.
“Not much,” he admitted, sticking out his chin to shave under it. I was sitting on the toilet lid. Not for the ﬁrst time, it occurred to me how much I enjoyed being married, just sitting in the bathroom with a man while he shaved, and all the little intimacies that entailed. “I don’t think she’s going to tell us why she’s here until she’s ready.” He stretched his upper lip down over his front teeth. “I hope nothing’s happened to Craig.”
“If he’d been in a wreck or been ill, surely she’d let us know,” I said hesitantly, aware I wasn’t on Martin’s wavelength.
“I was thinking more of Craig being in trouble,” he said, pulling on a fresh shirt and tucking it in. “Do you have your lipstick on yet?”
“No,” I said, surprised.
Martin pulled me to him and gave me one of those wonderful kisses that makes my pulse jump around like a drop of oil in a hot skillet. I responded enthusiastically, and let my ﬁngers do the walking.
“Whoa! Whoa!” he said, gasping, holding me away. “Oh, later! After we come home!”
“That better be a promise,” I said lightly, giving him a ﬁnal pat and sitting at my vanity to twist the tube to apply Mad Rubies.
“Take it as sworn to,” he told me.
We should have taken twenty extra minutes and been late to the Lowrys’.
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Reprinted from A FOOL AND HIS HONEY by Charlaine Harris, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2009 by Charlaine Harris.