Desperado. Diana Palmer

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      Cord’s attitude puzzled Maggie. It was oddly like jealousy. But that was an outlandish assumption. It would take a miracle to get Cord jealous of her.

      He led the way through the living room, where she left her purse, and into the dining room. Four places were set at the table, and an older white-haired man was occupying one of them while June put dishes of food on it.

      “Hi!” she called to Maggie. “I hope you like chili and Mexican corn bread.”

      “Love them. And there’s supposed to be a cherry pie?” she added hopefully.

      June grinned, with a glance at Cord. “Oh, I heard somebody had a passion for it. I’m famous for my cherry pie. You can even have vanilla ice cream on it, if you like. It’s homemade, too,” she added.

      Maggie smiled at her. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven!”