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Savannah and Katie covered their mouths to keep from laughing.
Jack glanced around the kitchen, looking for something?anything?to take his mind off the creamy swell of cleavage that looked so damned inviting. "You're using the Sunday tablecloth."
Dumb, Jack. Really dumb. Now she'll rip it off the table and throw it at?
"Thursday."
He frowned. "Huh?"
"Now it's the Thursday tablecloth. Tomorrow it'll be the Friday tablecloth. Then I think we'll have a picnic. What do you think, girls? Wouldn't a picnic be nice on Satur day?"
"A picnic? You must be joking."
"It may rain, of course, so we'll have to have a contingency plan?like dinner in the barn."
He wondered suddenly if she'd been hit on the head or fallen down the porch steps. "Amarylis? Are you all right?"
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"I'm glad you brought that up." She bent over the table and collected the plates.
Jack felt a headache start. It swelled behind his eyes like a giant wall of pressure. She had to be toying with him. She had to be....
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for the strength to remain numb. When he thought he could speak without raising his voice, he said, "Brought what up, Amarylis?"
"My name. It stinks. What could her?I mean, my mother have been thinking?"
Jack opened his eyes and stared at her. "You always liked your name. You said it showed good southern breeding."
"Breeding? What am I? A pig? Here, follow me."
Without waiting, she went to the kitchener.
Reluctantly he followed.
She peered into the pot and started ladling stew onto the plates. "Now, about my name . . . Hmph, it's sort of runny."
He was holding on to his temper by a thread. "Your name?"
She laughed. It was a clear, guileless sound that made his headache double in intensity. "Of course not. The stew is runny. My name is just plain ugly. I've been giving it some thought lately, and I've decided to change it ... at least a little. Sort of a nickname." She paused, frowning. "How do you spell it, anyway?"
It was a few seconds before Jack felt it was safe to answer. "A-M-A-R-Y-L-I-S."
"Ugh. Sorta limits my choices. I'd love to choose, say ... Tess, but I don't think that's quite right. After all, a new life deserves a new name. How about Amy?"
Jack was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, but he couldn't think of a damn thing to say anyway.
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"No," she said finally. "Too young. Mary's too traditional, and Maryl probably hasn't been invented yet." Her frown deepened for a moment, then vanished. "I've got it! Lissa." She cocked her head and looked right at him. "From now on, I'd like to be called Lissa, okay?"
They were so close, he could feel the whisper of her breath against his lips. Jack stiffened, fighting the urge to leap backward.
She gave him a smile that sent feelers of warmth shooting into his groin. Then she reached out to touch him.
This time he did leap backward. "Lissa is fine," he said through gritted teeth.
"Great, I'm glad we got that settled. It's pretty, don't you think? Now, let's sit down."
