He showed her his two pairs, fours and eights. “Sure can. So, when’s dinner?” he inquired as he gathered up the pot.

Jenny chuckled. “You still think you won, don’t you? Wait till you try Mom’s cooking!”

“Jenny,” Janet protested. “How’s tomorrow? I’m sure I can grill a hamburger or something that will be edible.”

“That’ll be a first,” her daughter retorted. She glanced at Harlan. “You might want to bring along a roll of antacids. Mom’s still trying to figure out how to cope with life without takeout.”

“I’m sure anything your mother cooks will be just fine,” Harlan said staunchly. “I’ll be there about six.”

Mule cackled. “Think I’ll let the rescue squad know to be standing by just in case.”

They could all joke all they wanted, Harlan thought as he tilted his chair onto its back legs and studied the trio. Even if Janet’s food tasted like cinders, he had definitely come out of this a winner.

5

The kitchen was in shambles. Janet stood amid the collection of messy bowls, streaks of chocolate cake batter and spatters of frosting and despaired of ever getting a meal on the table by six o’clock.

“Why did you let me do that?” she asked Jenny, who was standing in the doorway gloating. “Why on earth did you let me make a bet like that?”

“You sounded like you were on a roll, Mom. How was I supposed to know you just had a piddly pair of aces?”

“Because you know what a competitor I am. I always get caught up in the moment, start bluffing and get carried away. You were doubling your allowance playing poker with me when you were eight for that very reason.”

“I know,” Jenny said, grinning. “If you’d gotten any more carried away yesterday, the man would be moving in with us.”

“Hardly,” Janet denied.

“Mom, it’s true. He leveled those baby blues of his on you and you perked up as if he’d showered you with diamonds.”

Janet winced at the accuracy of the accusation. She had enjoyed the challenge and the blatant masculine approval she’d been able to stir with a little teasing. Harlan Adams was the kind of man who could make any woman lose sight of her independent streak.

“All women are a little susceptible to flattery and the attention of an attractive man,” she said to defend herself. “It’s not something to be taken seriously.”

“You’ve got my jailer coming to dinner in twenty minutes and you think that’s not serious,” Jenny retorted.

“Would you stop calling him that?” she implored. “Mr. Adams did you a favor, young lady. And the truth is, you’re having fun at White Pines, aren’t you?”

“Oh, sure, I just love spending my summer vacation breaking my back mucking out that stinky old barn.”