Irresistible? Read Free Page B

counselor to administer the dreaded questionnaire. Three hours later, she emerged with a week’s worth of pills and a small blank journal in her purse, feeling as if she’d just been to confession. But she noticed a new spring in her step. She believed in the powers of aroma. Pulling off the hat and dark glasses, she tossed her short blond locks.
    Unsuspecting men of Atlanta, beware!
    Â 
    â€œWELL, Marcus, if you’re not going to get married, you’re going to have to learn to cook,” Gloria admonished her son as she held a dripping whisk.
    Mark Blackwell plucked a green olive from the tray on the kitchen counter and popped it into his mouth, smiling. Il like to eat out.”
    The plump woman turned back to her bubbling red sauce. “It’s beyond me how, out of all those women you’ve dated, not one of them could find her way around a kitchen.”
    â€œI don’t—” he walked over and took the whisk from her hand “—date women for their culinary skills.” He flashed a grin in his mother’s direction.
    â€œOh, you,” she snorted, rapping him playfully on the arm. Then her tone grew more threatening. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to grow old all by yourself.”
    â€œI’ll hire a comely young nurse,” he teased. “Besides, you’d be bored if you couldn’t fret over my state of bachelorhood all day.”
    â€œNot if I had grandchildren,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye.
    Mark didn’t miss a beat in the familiar exchange. “You’re much too young to be a grandmother.”
    â€œAnd you’re much too young to be working yourself to death in that law firm,” she chided.
    Mark grabbed two plates and settled them onto his arm, waiter-style. “That’s what I came to talk to you about,” he said, smiling. He dished up a hearty helping of lasagne for each of them, and spooned on the rich homemade sauce. When he set the laden plates on the table, he struck a cocky pose and said, “Say hello to the newest partner of Ivan, Grant, Beecham, and...Blackwell.” He bowed slightly, rewarded with enthusiastic applause from his seated mother.
    â€œHow wonderful, Marcus!” She beamed and brought his hand to her mouth for a long kiss. “I’m so proud of you, son. I wish your father were here.” Tears sprang to her eyes immediately, but she blinked them away.
    Mark swallowed the lump of emotion that lodged in his throat. He knew his father would be proud of him at this moment, even if Mark had “caved to the corporate philosophy,” as his flighty father was fond of saying. Ever the softheart, his dad had been struck by a car three years ago when he’d stopped to help a stranded motorist. Mark patted his mother’s hand. “I wish he were here, too,” he said simply, then smiled. “Now, let’s eat.”
    During dinner, they chatted about his long-awaited promotion, but Mark had a feeling he wouldn’t escape without at least one more lecture on the importance of finding a good woman. Especially now that he’d made partner. He was right. As he helped his mother clean the dishes, she said in an innocent voice, “You know, the family reunion is this weekend. Are you coming?”
    â€œYes,” he said patiently. “Don’t I always?”
    â€œHmm,” she agreed, then asked, “Are you bringing a date? Your cousin Albert will be there with his new bride and baby. And Claire with her newborn—this is her third, you know. Her husband is such a dear man.”
    â€œI can’t wait,” Mark said, inwardly wincing. He considered these get-togethers his penance for bucking the long family tradition of having a houseful of kids before having a house. He would endure one whole day of shaking hands and exchanging cheek kisses with new family members. And dutifully praising and holding everyone else’s