LITMIR.BIZ

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stifled a laugh. “Of course not. Do you have any preferences? Thick chunks of banana? Thin?”

      “Thick,” he and Bette said in unison.

      As the caterer began to prepare the sandwiches, Jake said, “This is Bette Howland, grand dame of the horse world in these parts. She’s also my godmother and one of my best friends.”

      “Nice to meet you. I’m Marlo Mayfield.” She took a plate of sandwiches to the table. “Milk?”

      Bette looked at Jake with a twinkle in her eye. “A woman who can cook. You should be nice to this one, Jake.” Eyeing the attractive caterer, Jake couldn’t disagree.

      “Too many of these pretty young things after Jake are useless in the kitchen. Don’t know how they get by with it, but it’s shameful. Don’t they know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

      Bette turned again to him. “Right?”

      “Absolutely.” Jake smiled, glad to spend a few minutes with Bette, away from the gathering in the other room. But after gulping down a half a sandwich, he pushed away from the table. Realizing he should get back to the party, he said, “Bette, I’ll come and get you in a few minutes.”

      The elderly woman waved a sandwich in the air as if to shoo him away. “Take your time, dearie,” she said, watching Jake leave.

      Bette turned her bright eyes and full attention on Marlo.

      “You’re a pretty thing. Jake could do much worse than you.”

      Marlo felt a blush burning up from her neck. “I’m just the caterer.”

      Bette snorted. “That has nothing to do with anything. Jake doesn’t have a pretentious bone in his body, unlike his father, I might add. Jake is like his grandfather, Samuel, my brother.” Her expression softened. “Those two are cut of the same cloth—compassionate, fair, loving. And Jake, bless his heart, puts up with a crotchety old woman like me.” She lowered her voice. “We go out on dates, you know.”

      She grinned at Marlo’s puzzled expression. “Movies no one else thinks I should see—action-adventure mostly, suspense, mystery. Gory ones sometimes, although Jake refuses to take me to a horror movie. He’s afraid I might like them. Then we eat at a little diner around the corner from the movie theater. Oh, the heartburn I get!” Bette said happily. “I just love that boy.”

      The old woman’s eyes turned sly. “I think you’d love him, too.”

      Marlo didn’t doubt it. Bette had just described a man that fit perfectly with the List. Unfortunately, that was Jake’s decision, not Bette’s.

      At that moment the kitchen door burst open. “Come on, Bette, let’s stroll back in like we’ve never been gone,” Jake said. Bette jumped to her feet as though that cane of hers was a mere prop, and they vanished together into the din in the other room.

      A big grin spread across her face. She liked Jake Hammond.

      Two hours later, Marlo and Lucy were eyeing the last of the meatballs, a single plate of veggies and dip and the empty trays they’d stacked on the kitchen counter.

      If the guests didn’t quit eating soon, they would run out of food. Hammond had told Lucy there would be twenty or thirty people in attendance, but there were at least fifty. Marlo hoped they had cans of smoked oysters in the van. Perhaps they could do something with them on a cracker.

      As she planned their next move, the kitchen door swung open and Jake strode in. His tie was loosened and pulled to one side, the top button of his shirt open, as if he’d worked up a sweat entertaining the crowd. “I had no idea I’d invited a plague of locusts to this party,” he said apologetically, his eyes warm with sympathy, “but they love your food. The guests are leaving with truffles in their pockets and sushi in their purses.”

      He grinned impishly and a slash of appealing dimple appeared in one cheek. His skin tone was that of an outdoorsman, tan and healthy-looking, not the pasty look of an office-dwelling architect. “My reputation as high-class host is sealed, thanks to you.” With a thumbs-up, he disappeared again into the din in the main room.

      “That was thoughtful,” Lucy commented. “It was as if he read our minds.”

      “Not mine.” Marlo tapped a finger to her temple. “There’s nothing up here to read.”

      “Reading your mind is like trying to read a newspaper while riding a Tilt-a-Whirl,” Lucy said cheerfully. “There’s too much happening at once to make any sense of it.”

      Marlo wasn’t sure she liked the analogy, even if it was apt, but she didn’t have time to debate the statement. She and Lucy needed to make the serving trays and platters discreetly disappear in the next few minutes.

      By eleven, the kitchen was spotless and most of the guests had taken their leave, except for Sabrina the kittenish blonde attached to Jake by Super Glue. Marlo had watched them all evening, as she moved in and out of the main rooms refilling trays and removing dishes. There was something so engaging about Jake Hammond that she couldn’t tear her eyes from him.

      As if thinking of them actually conjured them up, they walked into the kitchen looking like a pair of dolls, Soiree Sabrina and her boyfriend, Tuxedo Jake.

      “I’ve called you a cab,” Hammond was telling Sabrina as they entered.

      She pouted. “I’m not done partying yet, darling.”

      “Then you’ll have to find someone else,” Hammond advised her pleasantly, his charm not slipping for an instant. “I’m out of steam.”

      “But you promised—” Her words were cut short by the sharp blast of a horn.

      “Cab’s here. Come on, sweets, I’ll tuck you in and pay the fare.” Smoothly, Hammond navigated his reluctant package toward the door.

      Chivalrous. Check.

      Only moments after they’d left, the door swung open again and the party’s other host, Randall Hammond, strode into the room. The senior Hammond was shorter than his son by two or three inches, strong-looking but thin and sinewy, like, Marlo mused, a piece of human beef jerky. There was a hardness about the man, an inflexible, unbending quality, totally unlike that of his son. As much as Marlo had liked Jake upon first meeting him, she felt conversely wary of his father.

      But perhaps she’d judged too quickly, since the first words out of his mouth were a compliment. “Well done. My guests appreciated your hard work.” His pale eyes darted around the room. “Is Jake…”

      “He’s outside. He sent for a cab and…”

      “He’s sending Sabrina home in a cab? Odd. He always drives her home.” The older Hammond appeared puzzled. “Those two usually close down every party. What a pair they make.” He looked both pleased and paternal at the notion.

      Another man of Randall’s age strolled through the kitchen door. He held the hand of a child with bright eyes, a curious expression on her perfectly oval face and a mass of blond curls cascading down her back.

      Marlo couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a child so beautiful.

      “It’s time to get you home to bed, Cammi.”

      “Not so soon, Grandpa. I don’t have school tomorrow.” She released her grandfather’s hand and skipped to the glass-fronted refrigerator and pressed her nose against the glass. “I’ve never been in this part of the house before. It’s fun.”

      “Your grandmother never uses that adjective to describe her kitchen, I’m afraid,” the child’s grandfather said, with a chuckle. “I’m not sure that she’s even visited her kitchen lately, except for the occasional glass of water or to harass a caterer or two.”

      “Oh, Grandpa!” Cammi chided. “I’m telling.”

      “Don’t you dare, little miss.” He leaned

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