Iced to Death Read Online Free

were the lights over the shops.
    Gigi was going to have to eventually admit to Pia that not only had she been talking to Declan on the phone, but she was going to be working with him on Saturday night. Pia was going to wonder why Gigi hadn’t told her right away. Gigi felt a trickle of sweat make its way down her side despite the blowing snow.
    Worse, she was going to have to tell Mertz that she couldn’t attend the party with him. That was bad enough, but when he found out it was because she was helping Declan . . . To say he wasn’t going to be happy was an understatement. The trickle of sweat threatened to become a torrent as Gigi thought about her situation.
    She would have to tell him that night. Mertz was coming to dinner, Pia would be at her studio, and they would have some time alone. Gigi slowed in front of Bon Appétit, Woodstone’s gourmet and cookery store. Perhaps a good bottle of wine was in order. She’d wine and dine him, and hopefully, soporific with food and drink, he wouldn’t protest about the change in plans for Madeline’s engagement party.
    Yeah, right.
    • • •
    Delicious, rich smells permeated Gigi’s tiny kitchen. She was making chicken cacciatore and had an antipasto platter of olives, provolone cheese, prosciutto, eggplant caponata and marinated mushrooms ready to serve along with some artisanal bread. The expensive bottle of wine Gigi had splurged on sat on the counter
breathing
. Surely all that would put Mertz in a receptive mood . . . right?
    With dinner prepared, Gigi was able to indulge in a lavender-scented bath before leisurely dressing and doing her hair and makeup. She was ready and pacing the hall ten minutes before Mertz was due to arrive, but even so, his sudden knock on the door, quickly followed by Reg’s excited barking, startled her.
    The open door let in a blast of cold air along with a smattering of snowflakes.
    “It’s snowing again.” Mertz said, handing Gigi a large paper-wrapped bouquet of assorted flowers.
    “These are lovely, thanks.”
    Mertz ducked his head. “Glad you like them.” He motioned toward the door. “I’ll clear the walk and driveway for you before I leave.”
    “You don’t have to—”
    “It’s no problem. I don’t want you out there trying to do it yourself.” He brushed the melting white flakes of snow off his coat before handing it to Gigi. “Roads are fine fortunately.” He took a deep breath. “Sure smells delicious in here.”
    Reg was dancing in and out between Mertz’s legs, demanding his due, so Mertz reached down and scratched him between the ears. He gave Gigi a peck on the cheek, and the coldness of his touch made her shiver briefly.
    Mertz rubbed his hands together briskly. “What smells so good?”
    “Chicken cacciatore,” Gigi answered as she hung his coat in the closet.
    “Chicken catch-a-who?”
    “Cacciatore. It means hunter or hunter-style, either chicken or rabbit, with onions, tomatoes, herbs and wine. In southern Italy it’s usually red wine, while in the north they use white.”
    “If it tastes half as good as it smells . . .”
    “Oh, it does, don’t worry.”
    He followed Gigi out to the kitchen, where she rummaged in a cabinet for a vase. It had a small chip on the rim, but it wasn’t visible when she placed the flowers in it. She added some water and placed it in the center of the kitchen island.
    “There.” Gigi moved the vase a bit to the left. “That looks perfect.”
    “Glad you like them.” Mertz cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.
    Gigi got out two wineglasses, poured them each a glass of the Syrah the clerk at the wine store had recommended, and pulled the antipasto platter from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter.
    Mertz accepted his glass of wine and helped himself to the delicious treats on the platter.
    “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night.” Mertz selected a Kalamata olive and popped it into his mouth.
    Gigi paused with her wineglass