Baguette Murder: Book 3 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) Read Online Free Page B

elevator stopped this time and Arthur got in before she had time to panic. Arthur was wearing a pink dress shirt with a fuchsia sweater tied around his neck.  

    “Bonjour,” he said in his usual stiff way.  

    “I don’t think you’re wearing enough pink,” Clémence couldn’t help but comment. While he usually wore those pieces separately, she thought he was going overboard this time.

    He looked down at his beige khakis. “You’re right. I should’ve gone with the pink pants as well.”  

    Clémence nodded feebly, not knowing what to say.

    He broke from his stony expression and laughed. “I’m kidding.”  

    “Phew.”  

    The elevator door closed. She tried to ignore his warm scent and the sudden intimacy of his arm pressing into hers in the tiny elevator.  

    “I shouldn’t have to defend my fashion choices,” Arthur said. “This is a classic look.”  

    Straight out of the preppy handbook , Clémence thought. Instead she said, “You’re right. Pink is your color. This is a free country and you should wear whatever you want.”  

    “Why thank you,” Arthur said. “I haven’t seen you around lately. Quoi de neuf?”

    “What’s new?” Clémence repeated. “Oh, this and that. What about you?”  

    She could feel his brown eyes on her. But she refused to make direct eye contact—it was a trap. No way was she going to be one of the girls that did the Sunday morning walk of shame. She knew herself well enough to know that the more she interacted with him, the more of a chance that she would succumb to him. Like many women, she was weak for men who didn’t treat her as well as they could’ve. In order for Clémence to keep her standards high, she had to refuse the guys who weren’t up to par. Unfortunately, that also meant a smaller pool to draw from.  

    Maybe she was being picky, or insecure, but she had to take protective measures for her heart. Whenever she opened up to someone, she had been disappointed, hurt, or brutally bashed. It was good to have boundaries, although lately it had felt as if those boundaries had turned into impenetrable walls.  

    “ Moi? ” Arthur said. “I’ve been busy.”  

    “Hmm.”  

    “Not that kind of busy. I mean there’s an end in sight with my Ph.D., so it’s been going well. Are you still seeing that American guy, what’s-his-name?”  

    Arthur was referring to John, whom she meant when she was investigating a murder case recently. She had suspected the American banker of murder and had agreed to go on a date with him to obtain information. Fortunately he wasn’t the murderer, which meant she hadn’t gone out with a psychopathic killer. John had wanted to continue dating Clémence, but she wasn’t so sure. During their date, they had run into Arthur on his own date with a blond bombshell. From the way John had drooled over the blonde, Clémence knew that he wasn’t good for a long-term relationship and never returned his texts. Then she went to Switzerland for the weekend and pretty much forgot about him.  

    “Why so interested in my love life?” Clémence retorted. The elevator door opened and she stepped out first.  

    “Just wondering,” said Arthur. “He didn’t seem like your type.”  

    Clémence raised an eyebrow. “How would you know what my type is?”  

    “I know you better than you think I do.”  

    She didn’t know why, but the comment annoyed her. “I know why you don’t like John. It’s because you’re just like him.”  

    This in turn vexed Arthur, which she could read on his face.  

    “How? I’m nothing like him.”  

    “Sure you are. You’re both rich, overly educated, work in finance and pretty cocky. Then again, I’m describing 90% of the guys around here.”

    “You know me less than you think you do,” said Arthur.  

    So you don’t sleep with a different girl every week? Clémence wanted to blurt out. But she kept silent.

    They walked for a few minutes without