Read Online Seduced by Sunday by Catherine Bybee - Free Book Online Page B

heat and Val said, “Maybe if you found a wife that cooked, you’d still be married to one of them.”
    Jim slapped a meaty palm to Val’s back. “I might have to try that.”
    “What’s all this talk of wives? Is there another Mrs. Lewis close at hand?” Mrs. Masini asked.
    Meg’s personal icon draped a hand over her shoulders and pulled her close. “You didn’t hear? Meg loves me, and she sings. It’s meant to be.”
    The man flirted with style; Meg had to give him that.
    “Is that right?” Mrs. Masini had an actual twinkle at the corner of her eye. “What is Meg’s last name?”
    Jim glanced at the sky, leaned in close. “What’s your last name?”
    “Rosenthal.”
    Jim retreated with a playful smile. “Jewish? That might not work.”
    “Said the black kettle to the Jewish pot.”
    Jim pulled her against him again. “We can piss off all kinds of people with the union.” The man was joking, but damn if it wasn’t fun to be a part of a joke with Jim freaking Lewis.
    “My mother is Catholic.”
    That had Jim pulling away only to laugh. “Our children would be so messed up.”
    “You’re too old to give her children,” Val said with a frown.
    “I’m told that a healthy man can have sperm produce children until death.” Meg found Val’s eyes and held them.
    Gabi made her way back to the party and asked, “What’s this about children and death?”
    “Nothing,
tesoro
. Jim is just a shameless flirt and found an audience with poor Miss Rosenthal,” Mrs. Masini said.
    “Call me Meg.”
    Mrs. Masini patted her hand and Meg noticed Val frown.
    “Did he call you his future wife?” Gabi asked.
    “He did.”
    Gabi rolled her eyes. “You need a new line.”
    Val pulled away and encouraged all his guests to eat.
    Meg found herself sitting beside Gabi and Mrs. Masini.
    Jim and Val spoke with several guests, their laughter carrying over the courtyard.
    “You really don’t cook?” Mrs. Masini asked halfway through their meal.
    “Is a microwave considered cooking?”
    Gabi winced. “You didn’t just say that.”
    Mrs. Masini dropped her fork. “How will you find a husband if you don’t cook?”
    Meg thought of her database full of prospective husbands. “Well . . .”
    “You must know how to cook something.”
    “Spaghetti.”
    Mrs. Masini’s face lit up.
    “As in jar sauce and boiled bag pasta.”
    Mrs. Masini’s face fell.
    Gabi groaned. “Let me say this now . . . run, Meg.”
    “Pasta isn’t something that comes from a bag.” Mrs. Masini’s voice took on the quality of a Mom-Demon. Her low voice wasn’t something a mere mortal could ignore.
    “In my house—”
    “Jewish father, Catholic mother . . . I heard.” Mrs. Masini waved a hand in the air. “To find the right man, you must know how to cook at least one meal properly.”
    “I’m really not looking for the right—”
    “Enough!”
    Some people might say they felt the weight of the world coming down, but never had Meg felt it before. The determination in Mrs. Masini’s voice, her words, and the sheer distress hovering over Gabi’s face made Meg squirm.
    “Tomorrow you will meet me here, in Val’s kitchen.”
    Meg started to shake her head.
    Mrs. Masini narrowed her eyes and waved a hand in the air. “Jimmy!”
    Meg glanced at Gabi, who looked across the lawn. Jim Lewis nodded and moved toward them, Val at his side. Once the men were at Mrs. Masini’s side, she relaxed in her chair and offered a casual smile.
    “Yes, ma’am?”
    “You’re singing tonight, yes?”
    “Val asked if I would.”
    Mrs. Masini waved a hand in the air. Her eyes never left Meg’s. “You will sing something with Miss Rosenthal.”
    Meg’s mouth dropped.
    “You said you sing,” Mrs. Masini reminded Meg.
    There were no words. “But . . .”
    “You sing with Mr. Lewis, and tomorrow you will return here so I can teach you how to cook one meal properly.”
    Having grown up with a combination of Jewish guilt and a hefty dose