Free What's Cooking? by Sherryl Woods Page B

all over each other.
    "You are a cruel man." she murmured as she stepped into Rick's car.
    "Just wanted to even things up. You've been tormenting me ever since I got here."
    She smiled. "Good to know." Maybe if he said it often enough, she'd finally start to believe he really meant it.
    After several days of lighting to keep his hands to himself, Rick recognized the absolute necessity of finding a lot of distractions. Otherwise he'd spend every minute trying to convince Maggie to jump into bed with him.
    Of course, he argued, if he were around all the time, she might start to believe that he wasn't going to run out on her at the first opportunity. Better, though, that she learned that lesson during his absences.
    Besides, as they'd discussed when she'd laid out more of those absurd ground rules of hers, she'd come here because she needed space away from him to think. They'd agreed very sensibly that she could hardly do that if he was underfoot every second. He wasn't convinced that thinking was the answer, but she was, so for now he'd let her have her way.
    But all that thoughtfulness and consideration was leaving him at loose ends most mornings. Usually having so much time on his hands would wear thin after a day or two, but he'd started packing up his camera, climbing into his car and exploring the region, heading off in a new direction every day.
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    After the first day, he was forced to admit that it was no longer just an exercise. It was, in fact, oddly exhilarating to be taking pictures for the sheer pleasure of it, rather than for an assignment.
    Nature was turning out to be an even more fascinating subject than the gorgeous women he usually shot. Models had their idiosyncrasies, most of which he'd seen by this time, but nature's lighting, the capricious-ness of the birds, the ever changing swells on the Chesapeake, were just as challenging. He'd spent one entire morning taking pictures of the centuries old Christ Church as the light filtered through the surrounding trees. As a result, his excursions were taking longer and longer, but he always called to let Maggie know he was running late. It was a concession he wouldn't have made for most women, but it was such a small courtesy that it seemed absurd to balk at if or to view it as some sort of attempt on her part to put him on a short leash.
    On his wanderings he'd found plenty of out-of-the-way restaurants with home cooking and no pretensions. There was always a local around who was eager to strike up a conversation, if Rick was so inclined. He'd picked up bits of history and plenty of gossip, all of which he shared with Maggie when he got to her place each afternoon.
    Not five minutes ago he'd heard that Cornelia Lind-sey's granddaughter?Maggie, in fact?was staying at Rose Cottage. "Has a beau there, too. Followed her all the way from Boston," the waitress said, her expression dreamy. "Isn't that romantic? Maybe she'll wind up getting married in her grandmother's garden, the way her sister did."
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    WHAT'S COOKING?
    Rick choked on his soup at that. The girl slapped him on the back and studied him worriedly.
    "You okay?" Willa-Dean asked. "Don't know why I'm telling you all this. You probably didn't even know Mrs. Lindsey, since you're not from around here."
    "No, I didn't know her," Rick admitted.
    "Where'd you say you were from?"
    "Boston, actually."
    The waitress stared at him, the coffeepot in her hand suddenly bobbing so erratically that Rick felt compelled to take it from her.
    "You're the one," she said, blushing all the way to the roots of her bleached hair. "You're with Maggie."
    He nodded, since there seemed to be little point in denying it. He did feel compelled to correct one thing, though. "I'm not staying at the house," he told Willa-Dean.
    "Why on earth not? It's plenty big enough," she said, then blushed furiously again. "Sorry. It's none of my business."
    She didn't seem to see the irony in worrying about that now, after spending ten minutes