Man In Control. Diana Palmer
She turned and started back into the house.
“Running away?”
She stopped and faced him. “I’m not going to be your whipping boy,” she said.
His eyebrows arched. “Wrong gender.”
“You know what I mean. You’re furious that Derek’s here, and Kirry’s not, and you want somebody to take it out on.”
He moved restlessly at the accusation. His scowl was suddenly darker. “Don’t do that.”
She knew what he meant. She could always see through his bad temper to the reason for it, something his own sister had never been able to do.
“Derek will leave in the morning and Kirry will be here by afternoon,” she said. “Derek can’t do that much damage in a night. Besides, you know how close he and Margie are.”
“He’s too flighty for her, distant relation or not,” he muttered.
She sighed, looking up at him with quiet, soft eyes full of memories. “Like me,” she said under her breath.
He frowned. “What?”
“That’s always been your main argument against me—that I’m too flighty. That’s why you didn’t like it when Derek was trying to get me to go out with him three years ago,” she reminded him.
He stared at her for a few seconds, still scowling. “Did I say that?”
She nodded then turned away. “I’ve got to go help Margie organize the food and drinks,” she added. “Left to her own devices, we’ll be eating turkey and bacon roll-ups and drinking spring water.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked amusedly.
“A nice baked chicken with garlic-and-chives mashed potatoes, fruit salad, homemade rolls and biscuits, gravy, fresh asparagus, and a chocolate pound cake for dessert,” she said absently.
“You can cook?” he asked, astonished.
She glared at him over one shoulder. “You didn’t notice? Margie hasn’t cooked a meal any time I’ve been down here for the weekend, except for one barbecue that the cowboys roasted a side of beef for.”
He didn’t say another word, but he looked unusually thoughtful.
The meal came out beautifully. By the time she had it on the table, Jodie was flushed from the heat of the kitchen and her hair was disheveled, but she’d produced a perfect meal.
Margie enthused over the results with every dish she tasted, and so did Derek. Alexander was unusually quiet. He finished his chocolate pound cake and a second cup of coffee before he gave his sister a dark look.
“You told me you’d been doing all the cooking when Jessie wasn’t here and Jodie was,” he said flatly.
Margie actually flushed. She dropped her fork and couldn’t meet Jodie’s surprised glance.
“You always made such a fuss of extra company when Jessie was gone,” she protested without realizing she was only making things worse.
Alexander’s teeth ground together when he saw the look on Jodie’s face. He threw down his napkin and got noisily to his feet. “You’re as insensitive as a cactus plant, Margie,” he said angrily.
“You’re better?” she retorted, with her eyebrows reaching for her hairline. “You’re the one who always complains when I invite Jodie, even though she hasn’t got any family except us…oh, dear.”
Jodie had already gotten to her own feet and was collecting dirty dishes. She didn’t respond to the bickering. She felt it, though. It hurt to know that Alexander barely tolerated her; almost as much as it hurt to know Margie had taken credit for her cooking all these years.
“I’ll help you clear, darlin’,” Derek offered with a meaningful look at the Cobbs. “Both of you could use some sensitivity training. You just step all over Jodie’s feelings without the least notice. Some ‘second family’ you turned out to be!”
He propelled Jodie ahead of him into the kitchen and closed the door. For once, he looked angry.
She smiled at him. “Don’t take it so personally, Derek,” she said. “Insults just bounce off me. I’m so used to Alexander by now that I hardly listen.”
He tilted her chin up and read the pain in her soft eyes. “He walks on your heart every time he speaks to you,” he said bluntly. “He doesn’t even know how you feel, when a blind man could see it.”
She patted his cheek. “You’re a nice man, Derek.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always been a nice man, for all the good it does me. Women flock to hang all over Cobb while he glowers and insults them.”
“Someday a nice, sweet woman will come along and take you in hand, and thank God every day for you,” she told him.
He chuckled. “Want to take me on?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re very sweet, but I’ve got my eye on a rather nice man at my office. He’s sweet, too, and his girlfriend treats him like dirt. He deserves someone better.”
“He’d be lucky to get you,” Derek said.
She smiled.
They were frozen in that affectionate tableau when the door opened and Alexander exploded into the room. He stopped short, obviously unsettled by what he thought he was seeing. Especially when Jodie jerked her hand down from Derek’s cheek, and he let go of her chin.
“Something you forgot to say about Jodie’s unwanted presence in your life?” Derek drawled, and for an instant, the smiling, gentle man Jodie knew became a threatening presence.
Alexander scowled. “Margie didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he returned.
“Margie never means things the way they sound,” Derek said coldly, “but she never stops to think how much words can hurt, either. She walks around in a perpetual Margie-haze of self-absorption. Even now, Jodie’s only here because she can make canapés for the party tomorrow night—or didn’t you know?” he added with absolute venom.
Margie came into the room behind her brother, downcast and quiet. She winced as she met Derek’s accusing eyes.
“I’m a pig,” she confessed. “I really don’t mean to hurt people. I love Jodie. She knows it, even if you don’t.”
“You have a great way of showing it, honey,” Derek replied, a little less antagonistic to her than to her brother. “Inviting Jodie down just to cook for a party is pretty thoughtless.”
Margie’s eyes fell. “You can go home if you want to, Jodie, and I’m really sorry,” she offered.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t mind cooking!” Jodie went to Margie and hugged her hard. “I could always say no if I didn’t want to do it! Derek’s just being kind, that’s all.”
Margie glared at her cousin. “Kind.”
Derek glared back. “Sure I am. It runs in the family. Glad you could come, Jodie, want to wash and wax my car when you finish doing the dishes?” he added sarcastically.
“You stop that!” Margie raged at him.
“Then get in here and help her do the dishes,” Derek drawled. “Or do your hands melt in hot water?”
“We do have a dishwasher,” Alexander said tersely.
“Gosh! You’ve actually seen it, then?” Derek exclaimed.
Alexander said a nasty word and stormed out of the kitchen.
“One down,” Derek said with twinkling eyes and looking at Margie. “One to go.”