"What the hell do you mean you can’t cook?" Joe demanded.
"Just what I said," Maddie replied.
His brows jerked together. "You mean you can’t cook elaborate meals,
right? You can fix easy items. Like... You can grill a steak, yes?"
"No."
"Scramble some eggs?"
"Not a chance."
He glared in exasperation. "Boil water? Do you think you could do that?"
"You don’t have to be so sarcastic. I could boil water if forced to. But
the only thing I need it for is coffee and I have a machine that does that."
"Then how do you feed yourself?"
"It’s simple." She marched past him and snatched up the rolodex centered
on the kitchen counter. "I pick a card and dial a number. Thirty minutes
later there’s a knock at the door. I answer, pay the delivery man, then sit
down at the table and eat what he’s brought. Voilà! I get
fed."
"Please tell me you’re joking." He took the rolodex from her and flipped
through it. "You’re not joking. Dio! You know all the delivery
men by name. And what are these dates? Do you keep track of when they come?"
"No. Those are their birthdays," she muttered.
"Their--" He seemed to have trouble breathing. "And the names in
parentheses?"
"Their kids."
"Gumdrop? Larry from The Parthenon named his son Gumdrop?"
"Oh. That’s his dog. He doesn’t have kids."
"And this?" He pointed to a notation on one of the cards. "What is this
beside Chet’s name?"
She blushed. "Blue scarf. "That’s..." She cleared her throat. "That’s
what I knit for him last Christmas. A blue scarf. He doesn’t like red."
Joe closed his eyes. "Of course, he doesn’t. I should have realized."
"Kevin’s the one who prefers red." She flipped to the next card. "See?"
"What the hell do you do, adopt every delivery man who comes to your
door?" When she remained stubbornly quiet, he ground his teeth in
frustration. "And what about your almost-fiancé, Tupper? Does he realize you
can’t cook?"
"Not yet."
"You have to be joking! How have you managed to pull that off?"
"Most of the time we go out," she reluctantly confessed. "But the few
times I’ve had him here, I’ve had the food delivered before he arrives and
then warm it up."
"And throw away the containers so the fiancé-to-be doesn’t see them?" Her
silence was all the answer he needed. His expression grew forbidding.
Clearly he didn’t approve of concealing such important information from the
man she planned to marry. "What an interesting relationship you two have,"
he observed dryly.
"Our relationship is none of your business!"
"You’ve made it my business," he flashed back. "Explain something to me,
Maddie. How do you expect to prepare this dinner if you don’t know how to
cook?"
"That’s why I have you, remember?"
"I thought you needed my help to practice the menu!" he roared.
"I do!"
"You don’t need help. You need to have your head examined!" His accent
increased on par with his exasperation. "These are difficult dishes. When
you said you were having trouble with the menu, I assumed you expected me to
offer some pointers or to show you how to handle some of the trickier
recipes. You didn’t say anything about teaching you how to cook."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, now you know I need a little
more than just pointers."
"Can you even operate the stove?"
"Yes," she snapped. "I just turn one of those round knobby things."
"One of--" He closed his eyes. "Oh, very good, Ms. Wallace. Excellent.
You know to turn one of those round knobby things. And then what? Dio,
you don’t even have a pot to... To...cook in!"
"I can buy a pot."
"Tell me something, if you’d be so kind. How do you expect to learn all
that’s necessary in less than three weeks?"
"I didn’t think it would be that hard."
"Really? Not so hard? If I came to you, never having so much as balanced
my checkbook, could you teach me to be an accountant in that short a time?"
She winced, his question hitting the mark with uncomfortable accuracy.
"Are you saying you won’t help?" He bit off a rather rude exclamation, then
followed it up with a steady stream of rapid-fire Italian. She waited until
he ran out of breath before asking, "Is that a yes or a no?"
"What the hell do you think?" He glanced her way, then groaned, his anger
fading as swiftly as it had flared. "Don’t look at me like that."
"I’d appreciate an answer," she said as dispassionately as she could.
"You know nothing about cooking and expect me to teach you how to prepare
a five course meal in less than three weeks. And you’re doing all this for a
man you hope will ask for your hand in marriage. A man, I might add, you
clearly don’t love--"
"I do so!"
"--and who knows nothing about you."
"That’s not fair--"
"Oh, really? What happens after you’re married and he discovers how
you’ve been deceiving him? Don’t you think he’s going to be a little upset
when Larry and Gumdrop pull up with that evening’s dinner?"
"I’m not deceiving him. I fully intend to tell him I can’t cook." Her
chin jutted out. "Eventually."
"I think we’d better call it a night."
She shot him a nervous glance. "Are...are you coming back?"
Joe released his breath in a gusty sigh. "Yes, sweetheart. I’m coming
back. I’m you’re Christmas wish, remember?"
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Because there’s no point in attempting this recipe when you don’t have
the basics we’ll need to get started." He glared at her empty cupboards. "A
pot, for instance. Which reminds me... Before I go, I’d like a spare key to
your house."
"Why?"
"So I can let myself in while you’re at work. Tomorrow I’ll hit the
stores and drop off the necessary supplies before going to the restaurant."
"You don’t have to do that," she protested, overwhelmed.
"Yes, cara. I do. I know what I want and where to get it. I
also tend to be rather particular about the ingredients I use." Humor
returned the gold highlights to his eyes. "Besides, ordering supplies is
part of my job. We’ll get started tomorrow night. Agreed?"
"You’re still willing to help me?" She couldn’t quite believe it.
His expression turned serious. "I won’t desert you, Maddie. I gave you my
word and I’ll honor it."
She could feel the threat of tears again and turned abruptly away before
he saw them. It would seem he had the same attitude toward commitment that
she did. "I’ll get you a spare key."
At the front door, he hesitated. "I have a request to make."
"Sure. Anything."
His hands settled on her shoulders and he squeezed gently. "There is
nothing you can’t tell me. Nothing you can say that will drive me away. So
from now on I ask that you be honest with me. No matter how difficult you
find it, tell me the truth.
He didn’t wait for her response, which was fortunate. Because the instant
he left, she burst into tears.
