Killer Kiss

On my flight home, a handsome stranger generously upgraded my coach ticket to business class under the pretense we pretend to be married.



No problem. Anything was better than being booted to stand-by again.



How was I to know we were headed for the same destination - a murder mystery dinner where I'd have to make-out with someone who'd paid big bucks for seven minutes in heaven with me.



Holy crap! Was he the guy I had to kiss? Was he the killer? Maybe both?