What's Cooking? by Sherryl Woods Page A

that, how's the magazine getting along without you?"
    "The magazine is doing just fine. I'm able to do most things by e-mail anyway." She gave Rick a daunting look when he tried to slip a couple of houses off one of her properties. He grinned, clearly not the least bit contrite. "Ashley, I really do have to go. I have a lot riding on the outcome of this game."
    "Oh?"
    "If I win, we go out for ice cream."
    "Ah, I think I'm beginning to see what you're up to. And what happens if Rick wins?"
    "I have to fix him Dad's famous lasagna for dinner tomorrow." She tried really hard to inject a self-pitying note into her voice for Rick's benefit. He was very proud of himself for coming up with such an extreme and demanding penalty.
    "You do know there's a frozen lasagna in the fridge, don't you?" Ashley asked. "We brought it down for Melanie before the wedding."
    "I know that," Maggie said cheerfully. "Rick doesn't."
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    "Ah," Ashley murmured knowingly. "He'll be impressed and you'll barely have to lift a finger."
    "Exactly."
    "Very clever," Ashley said with approval. "But tell me again, why are you trying so hard to impress him if you think there's no future in the relationship?"
    "I'm not trying to impress anyone," Maggie insisted. "I'm trying to keep him entertained. He is a guest, after all."
    "I'm sure there are other forms of entertainment Rick would find more to his liking than Monopoly."
    Maggie laughed. "I'm sure you're absolutely right, but most of those are absolutely off-limits. This is tonight's diversion."
    "And tomorrow's?"
    Maggie wasn't sure she had an adequate answer to that one. She'd been scrambling for safe diversions from the moment Rick arrived. It was not a topic she intended to discuss with Ashley while Rick was blatantly eavesdropping on every word.
    "Got to go," she said instead, and hung up before Ashley could ask any more uncomfortable questions.
    She frowned at Rick as she sat back down. "Did you cheat?"
    "How could I? You were watching me every second," he grumbled. "Want some more wine?"
    She'd noticed that he hadn't touched the wine tonight. She had to wonder if that was part of his plan. "You just want me to have another glass so my defenses will be weakened and you can sneak something past me," she accused. "Forget about it." She rolled the dice
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    and moved her token to a pricey piece of property. She bought it without comment.
    Rick laughed. "You really don't trust me at all, do you?" he asked as he took his turn.
    "Not when it comes to Monopoly," she confirmed. "Or any other game, for that matter. I know you did something behind my back to win at Scrabble last night."
    He tried very hard to look offended, but he couldn't quite pull it off. "How does anybody cheat at Scrabble?" he demanded.
    "That's what I'd like to know, but I guarantee you I'm not even leaving the room to go to the bathroom next time we play."
    "I think this distrust of yours is symptomatic of a bigger issue," he said. "I think you have deep, psychological scars going back to childhood, probably when one of your sisters consistently beat you at games. My money's on Ashley."
    "Ashley never had time for games," she said, putting a hotel on another property. "And I don't have any scars from childhood except the one on my knee from when Jo pushed me down in the gravel so she could get to the ice-cream truck first."
    A mischievous spark lit his eyes. "I've seen that scar," he recalled. "Kissed it, too."
    A little shiver washed over her. He had, indeed. It was just one of the wicked kisses that had turned her into putty the first night they were together. "Let's not go there," she said hurriedly. Too much talk of kissing was almost as bad as having his lips locked with hers. It was fascinating how that worked. Since Rick, too, seemed
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    to be distracted, she claimed another piece of property. Pretty soon he wasn't going to be able to make a move without going into serious debt.
    "Why don't you want to talk about