What She Wants. Sheila Roberts

I had to add it.”

      “But since you did add it, the cake should have risen better,” Mom said, playing culinary detective. Even Columbo couldn’t solve the mystery of why Juliet’s kitchen creations never turned out, so Jonathan didn’t know why Mom was trying.

      “Then Cecily called about book group and I forgot the eggs.” Juliet sighed. “I hoped the baking powder would be enough.”

      “The baked potatoes weren’t so bad,” said her husband, Neil. “Anyway, it’s hard to screw those up.”

      Was that a compliment? Jonathan wasn’t sure. That was often the case when he listened to his brother-in-law talking to his sister. “She made the effort and that’s what counts.” And even if the spuds were a little underdone you hardly noticed after smothering them with sour cream and butter.

      “I’m not complaining,” Neil said. “My girl’s got other talents.”

      From the way he was looking at Juliet, Jonathan could guess what they were. He held up a hand. “You don’t have to tell us.” There were some things a guy didn’t want to think about his sister doing.

      “It was a lovely dinner, dear,” said their mother.

      “No, it wasn’t.” Juliet frowned at the frosted yuck on her plate. “I’m sorry, Mom. I wanted this day to be special.”

      “It is.” Mom swept her gaze around the table. “I’m with all of you and that makes it perfect. But if you want to top it off...”

      “I’ll go get ice cream,” Neil offered.

      “Oh, I wasn’t thinking of anything to eat. I was thinking of—”

      “Farkle,” Jonathan and Juliet finished with her. Their family had played a lot of games when Jonathan was growing up, and his mother still loved to beat him at Words With Friends. He’d gotten Farkle for her last Christmas and it had become a new favorite.

      “I just happen to have it in my purse,” Mom said with a grin.

      Jonathan wouldn’t have been surprised to hear she had the entire population of Luxembourg in there, too. How much stuff women could fit in their purses amazed him.

      “Dice,” Neil said, rubbing his hands together. “That’s a game even I can get into.”

      Unlike their family, Neil wasn’t much of a game player, unless it involved a football and a good dose of aggression. He was a big, well-muscled guy, who used those muscles working in the Sweet Dreams warehouse. Today Jonathan couldn’t help thinking (with only a tinge of jealousy) that his brother-in-law could pose for a cover on one of Juliet’s books.

      Neil’s looks—that was what had hooked her in the first place. Jonathan wasn’t sure what kept her hooked, although she seemed happy enough with her choice. Other than going dancing at the Red Barn, their favorite honky tonk, they didn’t appear to have much in common. Juliet loved to read. About the only thing Neil read was the sports page. When it came to movies, she liked chick flicks and Neil preferred action movies. He was big on eating, she was bad at cooking. Family was everything to her. His family was dysfunctional and he’d moved as far away from them as possible. And he never seemed that excited to see hers.

      Although maybe Jonathan was imagining that, because he always felt a little uncomfortable around Neil, rather like a mule standing next to a Thoroughbred racehorse.

      Mom had taken the can of dice out of her purse and Jonathan pulled his mind away from thoughts of mules and horses. But later that evening, when he got back home, he found himself revisiting the subject. Some men just seemed to be born babe magnets. Others...

      Well, Chica loved him.

      She rushed out her dog door to greet him the minute he pulled up back at the house. “Did you miss me, girl?” he asked.

      Chica woofed and wagged her tail. Yes.

      “I bet you’re ready for some fetch, huh?” He grabbed her tennis ball from the porch and threw it for her and she raced after it. Dogs were so easy to please. If only it was as easy to please a woman.

      After a rousing game of fetch they went inside the house, and that was when Jonathan discovered his loss. Chica had developed a taste for romance and had devoured two of his library book sale paperbacks.

      “Aw, Chica,” he said in disgust as he surveyed the mess of mangled books and shredded paper on the couch and the living room floor. He picked up what was left of one cover and saw that the Viscount Vampire now bore canine teeth marks all over his face and neck. He’d survived better than the cowboy. All Jonathan could find of him was his Stetson.

      He shook the fragment at Chica. “What is this?”

      Her tail curled between her legs and her head hung. She turned, slinking off toward the kitchen.

      “Yeah, you should be ashamed. Bad dog!” She had a dog door and a huge yard to play in. She didn’t need to swipe his books and eat them. “Why did you do that?” he demanded. She didn’t make a habit of eating his books. But then, he didn’t make a habit of leaving them lying around on the couch. And, he had to admit, these had smelled a little musty. Maybe Chica had mistaken them for something dead.

      Well, they were as good as dead now, he thought.

      He picked up part of a page and read.

      “Armande, I have never met a man like you,” breathed the contessa.

      “And you never will. I will satisfy your every desire. Forever,” he whispered as he gently lifted her hair, exposing her lovely white neck.

      Desire and a lovely white neck—that was all he was going to see of the contessa and Armande. Jonathan retrieved the waste can from under the kitchen sink and got to work.

      Chica watched as he cleaned up the mess.

      “Yeah, you did this. Those were research, you know,” he informed her.

      She whined.

      He relented. “Okay, you’re forgiven. Come here.”

      She came, her tail wagging hopefully.

      He knelt and pulled her against him and rubbed her head. “I guess those books just looked too good to resist, huh?”

      She licked his face.

      “Yeah, yeah. I know, you’re sorry. I’ll find ’em online and download them on to my e-reader. But no more eating my books, okay?”

      Chica barked. Okay.

      Once the mess was cleaned up, he’d spend some time on the island of Crete, with a suave tycoon and a beautiful businesswoman. He’d snitched The Undercover Tycoon from Juliet. He’d spotted it lying on top of a pile of books on the stairs and, unable to stop himself, had pinched it and smuggled it out in the pocket of his windbreaker. She’d happily have lent it to him if he asked, but no way was he asking to borrow one of Juliet’s romance novels. He’d never have heard the end of it, especially from Neil. He’d managed to get it out of the house undetected and he’d get it back in the same way. Nobody would be the wiser.

      “No eating this one,” he told Chica, showing it to her. “It’s not ours.”

      She yawned and settled down next to him on the couch.

      This story had a contemporary setting, and it didn’t take long for him to get involved in the plot. Although the hero and heroine were hot for each other, something was standing in the way of their love—the business. Her family used to own it but now she only ran it. And the tycoon wanted to sell it out from under her.

      As Jonathan read, he made notes on his iPad, treating the novel as if it were a college textbook, the same as he’d done with the other book he’d read. This particular hero seemed to have an overabundance of testosterone. He was strong and forceful, and while he and the heroine clashed—a lot—she seemed to appreciate that forcefulness. So, women wanted