Read Online Wicked Craving by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online

he has one.”
    â€œPlus,” Ryan said, “his whole schtick is highly suspect, to say the least.”
    â€œAbsolutely,” John agreed. “He was chattering away about this spectacular weight loss program of his, telling a group of us about how listening to his CD and engaging in some sort of self-hypnosis could enable one to drop all excess weight in a matter of days.”
    â€œWithout following a nutritious diet and strength-training exercise?” Tammy was scandalized.
    Savannah sniffed. “The only way to lose a bunch of unwanted, excess weight without starving to death is to get a divorce. And even that takes six months here in California.”
    â€œPeople worry far too much about a number on a scale,” John said.
    Granny nodded, buttering her biscuit. “You’d think that one number was all there was to ’em. There’s a gal there in McGill who’s got a voice like an angel…fills up the church every Sunday with the pure beauty of it. But boy, she gains a pound, she’s miserable. Loses a pound, she’s shoutin’ ‘glory!’ Up and down, all the time.”
    â€œAnd, lucky for Wellman,” Dirk said, “there are lots of people out there willing to plunk down a couple hundred dollars for a quick fix. You oughta see that joint of his on the beach.”
    Savannah nodded. “Beautiful place. Spacious, nicely decorated, chic but comfortable. A gorgeous view.” She sighed and put down her fork, suddenly a little less hungry. “All except for the dead body on the beach.”
    â€œYeap,” Granny said. “A corpse in front of your house, that’ll put a damper on a party ever’ last time.”
    Â 
    After everyone had finished eating, Savannah and her guests retired to the living room for coffee and Death by Chocolate cake. It took nearly two hours for Granny to get them caught up on McGill gossip. The rural, north Georgia community had surprisingly juicy scandals for such a tiny town.
    Granny was in fine form, regaling them with tales of how the mayor had been caught sneaking out the back door of the mortician’s house at daybreak, when the undertaker was out of town. The librarian had been accused of dipping into the moneys collected from the annual book drive. And the chief of police had run his cruiser into a tree and totaled it—his second major accident in six months. “Hear tell he had something he shouldn’t have in his coffee thermos…somethin’ a mite stronger than coffee, if you know what I mean,” Granny had said in a conspiratorial tone that made Savannah stifle a snicker.
    But once the tales were told, and the coffee and cake devoured, Savannah noticed that Gran’s eyelids were getting a bit heavy.
    Ryan and John noticed, too.
    Standing and smoothing his cream-colored wool slacks, Ryan smiled at Savannah—causing her pulse rate to go up at least twenty-five percent—and said, “We have to get going. Thank you for a lovely evening, as always.”
    John rose and picked up his cashmere sweater from a nearby chair. “Yes, this was positively delightful.” He gave Gran a courtly kiss on the back of her hand. “As always, beautiful lady, it was a pure joy to see you.”
    Granny giggled, blushed, and ducked her head. “Ah, stop messin’ with my heart, boy. I’m old enough to be your mother.”
    He leaned over and gave her a mustache-tickling peck on her cheek. “Perhaps,” he said, his voice velvety, his eyes twinkling, “but you aren’t my mother.”
    â€œTake him and those blue eyes of his home,” she said to Ryan, “before I forget I’m a lady.”
    â€œYeah,” Savannah said, “this ain’t McGill, Georgia. We’ve got ourselves moral standards here in Southern California!”
    As Savannah was walking them to the front door, Dirk jumped up from his chair and followed close