Irresistible? by Stephanie Bond Page B

finished, she swallowed, amazed at how unkind the picture had turned out. With a bemused smile, Gloria reached for the drawing as everyone gathered around. Instantly her smile dissolved and her face reddened, then she handed it back to Ellie and huffed away amid choruses of laughter from her family.
    Mark stepped forward to look at the sketch, a buxom insect with a tiara on her head, wielding a giant-size stinger. He pursed his lips. “Queen bee,” he said, studying the drawing with a tight smile. “So true. You’re very good.”
    Ellie watched people drift away to the dessert table and said, “It was hurtful to her, and I should apologize.”
    Mark shook his head. “You’re doing just what I asked you to do,” he said, handing the sketch back to her and looking into her eyes. “Everyone got a chuckle out of it. Mom’s just not very good at laughing at herself.”
    â€œStill, I feel so mean,” she said, biting her lower lip.
    He extended his hand to her and pulled her up. “Let’s get dessert.” His first touch sent charges of electricity through her fingers. She quickly withdrew her hand once she got to her feet.
    When everyone discovered Ellie’s cake was low-fat, most of the women relented and served themselves portions ranging from polite to generous. Uncle Jerome even teased Gloria into having a chunk, pointing out it wouldn’t hurt her to start counting her fat grams. Gloria begrudgingly ate every crumb. The men deferred to more fattening fare. Mark declined, saying he wasn’t big on sweets, and Ellie declined as well so someone else could have the remaining piece. To her surprise, it was Gloria.
    â€œAre you sure this is low in fat?” she asked Ellie, shoveling in the second piece. “It’s surprisingly good.”
    Ellie beamed, glad she would leave with one redeeming mark. “The guy I live with gave me the recipe.” When she saw Gloria’s eyes widen in response to the remark about her roommate, Ellie hurried on, “This is the first time I’ve made it. I’m glad it’s as good as he said it would be.”
    â€œYou know,” Gloria said thickly through a mouthful, “Marcus needs a good cook in his kitchen.”
    Ellie’s smile froze, wondering if Mark had overheard the comment. She nodded woodenly, surprised at the concession his mother had made, but more surprised at how good the idea sounded, her cooking in Mark’s kitchen. Of course, they’d have to eat chocolate cake every night since it was the first and only thing she’d ever made that had turned out well enough to actually serve. Avoiding Mark’s eyes, Ellie enjoyed the slight lifting of her heart.
    About halfway through the hokey-pokey, the Blackwell women started dropping like flies. Clutching their stomachs, they ran for the nearest bathroom, several yards away. Gloria seemed to be the most violently ill. When they emerged an hour later, wiping sweat from their clammy foreheads, they’d determined the culprit must be Ellie’s cake since no one else had been afflicted.
    White as a sheet and mad as a hornet, Gloria demanded, “What did you put in that cake?”
    Ellie backed up a step and tried to keep the shakiness out of her voice. “The normal stuff—flour, eggs, cocoa, prune juice—”
    â€œPrune juice?” Gloria screeched. “Who puts prune juice in chocolate cake?”
    â€œIt replaces the oil and m-makes the cake low f-fat,” Ellie stammered.
    â€œHow much did you put in?” Gloria asked, her eyes bulging.
    â€œA b-bottle of concentrated—” She stopped at the horrified looks around her. “A s-small bottle,” she added weakly, holding up her thumb and index finger.
    â€œA whole bottle? Lord, we’ll be purging for a week—” Gloria stopped, grabbed her stomach and trotted back up the hill to the rest room, followed by six