She would slap his face. She certainly would.
In just a few minutes.
Damn women, Dutch thought. Damn them all. Especially tall, curvy, sweet-smelling females with lips like... cooking cherries. He'd always had a weakness for tartness.
He jerked her away, but kept his big hands firm on her shoulders.
Let's get
something straight....
he began.
Now look here___
she said at the same time.
They both leaped apart like guilty children when the kitchen door swung open.
Megan stood frozen in the doorway, her jaw dropping. Surely she hadn't seen what she thought she'd seen. Coco was checking the oven, and Dutch was measuring flour into a bowl. They couldn't have been.. .embracing. Yet both of them were a rather startling shade of pink.
Excuse me,
she managed.
I'm sorry to, ah...
Oh, Megan, dear.
Flustered, Coco patted her hair. She was tingling, she realized.
From embarrassment and annoyance, she assured herself.
What can I do for
you?
I just wanted to check a couple of the kitchen expenses.
She was still goggling, her
eyes shifting from Coco to Dutch and back. The tension in the room was thicker than Coco's split-pea soup.
But if you're busy, we can do it later.
Nonsense.
Coco wiped her sweaty palms on her apron.
We're just a little frantic
preparing for Trenton's arrival.
Trenton? Oh, I'd forgotten. Trent's father's expected.
She was cautiously backing
out of the room.
We don't need to do this now.
No, no.
Oh, Lord, Coco thought, don't leave me.
Now's a perfect time. We're
under control here. Let's do it in your office, shall we?
She took Megan firmly by
the arm.
Mr. Van Horne can handle things for a few minutes.
Without waiting for
his assent, she hurried from the room.
Details, details,
Coco said gaily, and clung
to Megan as though she were a life raft in a churning sea.
It seems the more you
handle, the more there are.
Coco, are you all right?
Oh, of course.
But she pressed a hand to her heart.
Just a little contretemps with