Cinnamon.
The moment he identified it coincided with a soft tap on the door.
He dragged it open and saw Eva standing there, holding a tray.
“I thought you might be hungry. I’ll make supper later, but for now I made a batch of my special Christmas spice cookies. I was going to freeze them for you, but as you’re here you might as well eat one now.”
He stared down at the plate. The cookies were shaped like Christmas trees and specs of sugar dusted the golden brown surface.
“Aren’t cookies usually round?”
“They can be any shape you choose.”
“And you chose Christmas trees?”
“It’s a cookie, Mr. Blade. Eat it or don’t.”
He eyed the tray in her hands. Next to the plate of cookies was a mug full of—
“What the hell is that?” A slice of lemon floated on the top of straw-colored liquid.
“It’s herbal tea.”
“Herbal—?” He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t find that in my cupboards.”
“I didn’t find anything much in your cupboards.”
“I drink coffee. Strong. Black.”
“You can’t drink strong black coffee in the afternoon. It will stop you sleeping. Herbal tea is refreshing and calming.”
He rarely slept, but he didn’t tell her that. He’d seen enough of his life plastered across the press over the past decade to make him miserly with the personal details he shared.
Herbal tea. As if that was going to solve his problems.
“Take it away.” If it had been neat whiskey he would have downed it in one, but he wasn’t swallowing herbal tea for anyone. “Do I look like a guy who drinks herbal tea and eats cookies shaped like Christmas trees?” His tone was infused with a harshness a thousand times more unpalatable than the brew in the cup in front of him and she studied him for a long moment.
“No, but you can’t tell much about a person by looking at them, can you? You were the one who taught me that. Has it occurred to you that maybe I’m not trying to sweeten you up, Mr. Blade. Maybe I’m trying to poison you.” She pushed the tray into his hands and walked away, dismissing him with a swish of her golden hair.
He stared after her, reeling from the contrast between her sweet face and the sharp rebuke.
Poison him?
That was it.
Finally he was ready to type something, and he had his hands full.
He took the tray into his study and set it down on his desk.
It was already dark and the only light in the room came from the glow of his laptop and the strange, luminescent light reflecting off the snow beyond the windows.
He returned to the screen. So far there were only two words on the page.
Chapter One.
He sat down and started to write.
Four