Chapter Twenty Nine

Calling him to the dinner table, she had the rib roast sitting in front of his place, along with Yorkshire pudding and peas with pearl onions. Although her meat thermometer said the internal temperature was perfect, she had her fingers crossed and mentally said a little prayer that she hadn’t ruined it, while she waited for Brad to carve.

It proved to be simply perfect.

“Darling,” Brad rhapsodized, “this meal is unreal! It’s the very finest I’ve ever eaten.” Then pretending to glare at her he demanded, “Am I supposed to get used to food like this? Whatever will I do when you throw me out?”

“Well ... Golly...” she began slowly, “Maybe you should work hard so I don’t?” She was utterly overjoyed by his praise. And even against her own extraordinarily high standards she conceded to herself that the meal was very good.

At that moment, Brad leaned over toward her intending to give her a light kiss. But he was finding that light kisses really were not in their repertoire. Their lips met, the