abashed. "Sorry. I guess that 1 just slipped out. It was a nickname I gave her years ago."
Gregory's gaze fell on Penny. "I can think of many nicknames I might choose for her, but nothing so revolting as that."
"She was always small for her age, you know," Brad said lightly. "I think she always hoped she'd catch up with me, but by the time we were teenagers I she knew she'd well and truly lost the race." He studied Penny for a moment, then smiled. "She's always looked younger than her years, anyway, don't you think so?"
Gregory smiled at her. "Oh, I don't know. I'd hardly confuse her with one of her students, despite her height. She's a very nicely endowed woman."
"Thank you kindly, sir,'' she said.
"As for her cooking," Gregory went on, "Penny doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to. I'm not marrying her to gain a housekeeper."
"Of course not," Brad agreed. With a perfectly deadpan expression he went on, "I just hope you don't mind the fact that she snores."
The reaction of those around the table was a study of mixed emotions. Ralph looked as though he were trying not to laugh while Helen looked shocked. From the expression on her face. Penny looked as if she could have easily committed murder. Only Gregory showed little reaction—just a slight narrowing of his eyes.
"I had no idea you knew Penny quite that well."
"He's being obnoxious," Penny said heatedly. ''Out families used to go camping together when we were children. Brad always used to accuse me of snoring, just to make me angry."
"And it usually worked," he replied with a grin.
She struggled with her anger now, unwilling to let him know that he had succeeded in riling her once again. She tried to laugh, but wasn't sure that anyone was fooled. "But not now. Your childish tricks no longer have any effect on me."
Brad leaned back in his chair. "That's good to know, Runt. That uncontrollable temper of yours used to get you into lots of trouble."
"Temper?" Gregory repeated, lifting a brow. "You must have Penny confused with someone else. A more even-tempered person I've yet to meet."
Brad began to laugh. "Oh, dear. Are you ever in for a surprise. Counselor." He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table in front of him. "How long have you and Penny known each other?"
"About a year, wouldn't you say?" Gregory answered, turning to Penny.
"Something like that," she muttered.
"And she's never lost her temper?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"How very interesting," Brad mused.
"Only to you. Brad, dear," Penny said sarcastically. Then she stood and said with a smile, "I'll clear for you, Mother. Who would like some cherry-chocolate cake?'' She refused to look at Brad.
No one could pass up such a temptation, so Penny carried the dishes into the kitchen and began to slice the cake and place it on plates. She glanced up when she heard the swinging door open, then frowned.
"You don't need to help, Brad. I can manage."
"I know. I just came in here to apologize."
"It's too late."
"Too late for what? Do you think he's going to beg off or something just because he's found out you have a temper, for God's sake?"
''I mean it's too late for you to think I'm going to always say, 'Oh, that's all right. Brad, it doesn't matter.' You think you can say anything you want, behave in the most outrageous manner, and all you have to do is smile that devastating, knee-weakening smile and I'll forgive you."
"Knee-weakening?''
Trust Brad to pick up on her unfortunate choice of words.
"A figure of speech, Brad, nothing more."
''Does my smile really affect you that way?"
"Would you get out of here?" She picked up two plates filled with cake and shoved them into his hands. "Make yourself useful."
Penny watched as Brad laughingly returned to the other room, looking for all the world as if the two of them had been out in the kitchen laughing over old times.
Something told her that the next week might have a certain lack of peace and serenity. She would count the days
Gregory's gaze fell on Penny. "I can think of many nicknames I might choose for her, but nothing so revolting as that."
"She was always small for her age, you know," Brad said lightly. "I think she always hoped she'd catch up with me, but by the time we were teenagers I she knew she'd well and truly lost the race." He studied Penny for a moment, then smiled. "She's always looked younger than her years, anyway, don't you think so?"
Gregory smiled at her. "Oh, I don't know. I'd hardly confuse her with one of her students, despite her height. She's a very nicely endowed woman."
"Thank you kindly, sir,'' she said.
"As for her cooking," Gregory went on, "Penny doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to. I'm not marrying her to gain a housekeeper."
"Of course not," Brad agreed. With a perfectly deadpan expression he went on, "I just hope you don't mind the fact that she snores."
The reaction of those around the table was a study of mixed emotions. Ralph looked as though he were trying not to laugh while Helen looked shocked. From the expression on her face. Penny looked as if she could have easily committed murder. Only Gregory showed little reaction—just a slight narrowing of his eyes.
"I had no idea you knew Penny quite that well."
"He's being obnoxious," Penny said heatedly. ''Out families used to go camping together when we were children. Brad always used to accuse me of snoring, just to make me angry."
"And it usually worked," he replied with a grin.
She struggled with her anger now, unwilling to let him know that he had succeeded in riling her once again. She tried to laugh, but wasn't sure that anyone was fooled. "But not now. Your childish tricks no longer have any effect on me."
Brad leaned back in his chair. "That's good to know, Runt. That uncontrollable temper of yours used to get you into lots of trouble."
"Temper?" Gregory repeated, lifting a brow. "You must have Penny confused with someone else. A more even-tempered person I've yet to meet."
Brad began to laugh. "Oh, dear. Are you ever in for a surprise. Counselor." He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table in front of him. "How long have you and Penny known each other?"
"About a year, wouldn't you say?" Gregory answered, turning to Penny.
"Something like that," she muttered.
"And she's never lost her temper?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"How very interesting," Brad mused.
"Only to you. Brad, dear," Penny said sarcastically. Then she stood and said with a smile, "I'll clear for you, Mother. Who would like some cherry-chocolate cake?'' She refused to look at Brad.
No one could pass up such a temptation, so Penny carried the dishes into the kitchen and began to slice the cake and place it on plates. She glanced up when she heard the swinging door open, then frowned.
"You don't need to help, Brad. I can manage."
"I know. I just came in here to apologize."
"It's too late."
"Too late for what? Do you think he's going to beg off or something just because he's found out you have a temper, for God's sake?"
''I mean it's too late for you to think I'm going to always say, 'Oh, that's all right. Brad, it doesn't matter.' You think you can say anything you want, behave in the most outrageous manner, and all you have to do is smile that devastating, knee-weakening smile and I'll forgive you."
"Knee-weakening?''
Trust Brad to pick up on her unfortunate choice of words.
"A figure of speech, Brad, nothing more."
''Does my smile really affect you that way?"
"Would you get out of here?" She picked up two plates filled with cake and shoved them into his hands. "Make yourself useful."
Penny watched as Brad laughingly returned to the other room, looking for all the world as if the two of them had been out in the kitchen laughing over old times.
Something told her that the next week might have a certain lack of peace and serenity. She would count the days
Similar Books
The Wolf in His Arms (The Runes Trilogy)
Adrian Lilly
A Bad Night's Sleep
Michael Wiley
The Detachment
Barry Eisler
At Fear's Altar
Richard Gavin
The Portuguese Affair
Ann Swinfen
Dangerous Games
Victor Milan, Clayton Emery
Four Dukes and a Devil
Jeaniene Frost, Cathy Maxwell, Tracy Anne Warren, Sophia Nash, Elaine Fox
Fenzy
Robert Liparulo
Sonnet to a Dead Contessa
Gilbert Morris