Marrying Maddy by Kasey Michaels Page B

against his shoulder, giving her a hug. “That’s my girl. I’m going to enjoy having you as a sister-in-law.”
    â€œYou’re unbelievably sure of yourself, aren’t you…Joe?”
    â€œMade me what I am today, Jessie,” he told her, taking her hand in his as they approached the car. “I don’t suppose you’d agree to hand-feeding me oysters out of the half-shell at dinner tonight? Or maybe that’s just a little over the top.”
    Jessie giggled in spite of herself, and Maddy stiffened, frowned.
    Joe opened the front passenger door for Jessie and smiled over the top of the car, looking into the slowly setting sun. Yup, it was going to be a real fun evening….

Chapter Seven
    I f he smiles at her like that one more time, I’m going to lose my dinner, Maddy thought, pushing her fork so hard against her plate that the tines began to bend. And what’s Jessie doing, anyway? Giggling at every word Joe says? Jessie’s giggling? Jessie never giggles. Never!
    But Jessie was giggling. She was smiling, laughing, having the time of her life. So was Matt.
    In fact, everybody was so happy, so full of bright chatter that she could have cheerfully strangled each and every one of them. Her sister, her fiancé, her nemesis. The Three Joke-ateers.
    How did a person make jokes about prime rates and megabytes? What was so blasted hilarious about a customer calling the help line to say that his cup holder broke on his computer? Oh, wait. Joe had explained that one to her. The guy was using the CD receptacle tray for his coffee cup. Ha. Ha, ha, ha. This was what passed for computer humor?
    Well, okay. So it was a little funny. Just a little. She’d even smiled, in spite of herself. She understood computers; she’d used one at college, used one now to keep track of her recipes, used the World Wide Web to visit a very good home gardening site.
    But computers were like automobiles. At least to Maddy they were. As long as the thing moved when she wanted, took her where she wanted to go, she saw no need to know more about computers or cars than where to slide the floppy disk, where to insert the gas. What went on under the hood, or beneath the bright aqua plastic computer monitor—well, she really couldn’t care less.
    And as for federal interest rates, stocks and bonds, tax free municipal bonds? Double ha. She’d have as much luck trying to understand how to split the atom. And about as much interest in the subject.
    Which made her—what? Not at all a proper wife for a software king? Not at all a proper wife for a banker?
    Maddy sighed, wishing she’d ordered dessert. Maybe two desserts. And Irish coffee. Not for the liquor. For the whipped cream. In fact, another couple of meals like this one, and they could just roll her to the table and let her graze.
    Maddy looked at her sister from beneath her eyelashes. Jessie was positively blooming. Both men were paying attention to her, nodding their agreement with her every statement, going out of their way to listen, to comment, to tell her without words that she was scintillating company.
    While ignoring Maddy. How rude.
    Okay, so Matt had asked her if her prime rib was done to her liking.
    That was it.
    And it was all Joe’s fault, damn him. He was the one who kept asking questions, setting off into new areas of conversation—all of which interested Maddy so little that after a while she didn’t even bother trying to keep up or add her own opinion.
    And he’d done it on purpose. She could tell. She could read the man like a book with only two pages. The Table of Contents, and the only chapter: Joe O’Malley, why he thinks everybody should love him.
    Love him? She wanted to fricassee his liver. Pickle his kidneys. Slice his tongue, cold, for lunch.
    And Matt was just as bad. Not that he was exactly fawning over Joe, but he certainly couldn’t be nicer to the guy if he tried. All right,