Simply Irresistible by Rachel Gibson Read Free Book Online

the table with one fist and raised his spoon to his mouth with the other.
    Personally, Georgeanne didn’t think either of them was in danger of winning an award for gentlemanly conduct. “This is wonderful chowder,” she said in an effort to change the subject to something a little less volatile. “Did you make it?”
    Ernie reached for the beer next to his bowl. “Sure,” he answered, and raised the bottle to his mouth.
    “It’s delicious.” It had always been important to Georgeanne that people like her—never more than now. She figured her friendly overtures were wasted on John, so she turned her considerable charm on his grandfather. “Did you start with a white sauce?” she asked, looking into Ernie’s blue eyes.
    “Yeah, sure, but the trick to good chowder is in the clam juice,” he informed her, then between bites, he shared his recipe with Georgeanne. She gave him the appearance of hanging on his every word, of concentrating on him fully, and within seconds, he dropped into the palm of her hand like a ripe plum. She asked questions and commented on his choice of spices, and all the while she was very aware of John’s direct gaze. She knew when he took a bite, raised the beer bottle to his lips, or wiped his mouth with a napkin. She was aware when he shifted his gaze from her to Ernie and back again. Earlier, when he’d woken her from her nap, he’d been almost friendly. Now he seemed withdrawn.
    “Did you teach John how to make chowder?” she asked, making an effort to pull him into the conversation.
    John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” was all he said.
    “When I’m not here, John goes out to eat. But when I am here, I make sure his kitchen is good and stocked. I like to cook,” Ernie provided. “He doesn’t.”
    Georgeanne smiled at him. “I truly believe that people are born either hating it or loving it, and I can just tell that you”—she paused to touch his wrinkled forearm—“have a God-given talent. Not everyone can make a decent white sauce.”
    “I could teach you,” he offered with a smile.
    His skin felt like warm waxed paper beneath her touch, filling her heart with warm childhood memories. “Thank you, Mr. Maxwell, but I already know how. I’m from Texas and we cream everything, even tuna.” She glanced at John, noticed his frown, and decided to ignore him. “I can make gravy out of just about anything. My grandmother was famous for her redeye, and I’m not talking about a late-night flight, if you know what I mean. When one of our friends or relatives took their final journey to heaven, it was understood that my grandmother would bring the ham and redeye gravy. After all, Grandmother was raised on a hog farm near Mobile, and she was famous on the funeral circuit for her honeyed hams.” Georgeanne had spent her life around elderly people, and talking to Ernie felt so comfortable she leaned closer to him and her smile brightened naturally. “Now, my aunt Lolly is famous as well, but unfortunately not in a flattering way. She’s known for her lime Jell-O because she’ll throw anything into the mold. She got really bad when Mr. Fisher took his final journey. They’re still talking about it at First Missionary Baptist, which in no way should be confused with the First Free Will Baptists, who used to foot-wash, but I don’t believe they practice—”
    “Jeez-us,” John interrupted. “Is there a point to any of this?”
    Georgeanne’s smile fell, but she was determined to remain pleasant. “I was getting to it.”
    “Well, you might want to do that real soon because Ernie isn’t getting any younger.”
    “Stop right there,” his grandfather warned.
    Georgeanne patted Ernie’s arm and looked into John’s narrowed eyes. “That was incredibly rude.”
    “I get a lot worse.” John pushed his empty bowl aside and leaned forward. “The guys on the team and I want to know, can Virgil still get it up, or was it strictly