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didn’t think so, until I got a whiff of whatever’s cooking right now.”
    Carla gave an understanding smile. It was a rare breed who could pass up her homemade meals. “That would be my baked pork chops,” she said. “Go through those French doors to the patio; we can eat and talk out there.”
    Lavon had noticed Carla’s ample cleavage as soon as she opened the door. He continued what he hoped was a discreet perusal of her shapely, plus-size figure from behind as she sashayed into the kitchen. She had on flat sandals and wore a floor-length jersey dress with a peek-a-boo slit to just above her knees. Thick, shapely calves teased him from behind the cut fabric. The jersey hugged Carla’s big behind, an attribute that made Lavon’s mouth water. He shook his head, trying to clear the sexual thoughts that quickly flooded his conscience. He walked toward the French doors while taking in as much of the house as he could see—Dr. Lee’s house, he silently reminded himself. As if to underscore the thought, he passed by five pairs of Lee eyes staring at him from a huge family painting mounted over the marble fireplace. “ Mrs. Carla Lee,” he muttered under his breath.
    Carla hadn’t missed a thing, had felt his eyes on her all the way down the hall to the kitchen, and heard his footsteps when they finally crossed the living room’s hardwood floor. The air fairly sizzled between Carla and Lavon every time they met. They both tried to ignore it, even as Carla’s body made other plans. She knew Lavon was thinking similar thoughts and beyond these illicit contemplations, she didn’t want to think of much else…her husband, for instance.
    Carla brought iced tea to the table and within minutes returned with two steaming platters of down-home Southern cooking: baked pork chops smothered in gravy, cabbage stewed with apples and onions, buttery mashed potatoes, and thick, golden slices of corn bread from scratch.
    “Lord have mercy, woman!” Lavon exclaimed as she set down his plate. He eyed the delicious fare appreciatively, at a loss for words. “Lord have mercy,” he murmured again, picking up his fork and diving in with relish.
    Carla laughed at how Lavon was very clearly enjoying the meal. As she’d expected, he had a voracious appetite, and she didn’t think it was limited to food. “Slow down there now,” she said as Lavon cleaned half his plate in minutes. “Nobody’s going to take it from you!”
    “Not unless they want to get shot,” he retorted. “Lady Cee, I haven’t had food this good since my mama died. I didn’t think women cooked like this anymore.”
    “Most women don’t,” Carla admitted. She took her hands and traced her ample figure. “And I guess I shouldn’t either, at least not very often.”
    Lavon set down his fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and took a drink of tea. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, looking at Carla without blinking.
    The simple statement caused Carla to catch her breath. There was such raw sexuality in his beady-eyed stare. While appearing totally respectful, Lavon had caused Carla to become wet with a single phrase and a solid glance.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, picking up her fork and trying to re-engage an appetite that was suddenly gone, replaced by a different kind of hunger. “You’re not bad yourself,” she added, not trusting herself to look up.
    Carla battled with what was suddenly an overwhelming need for physical love. The night she’d fantasized about the man now at her table flashed into her mind. The angel on one shoulder reminded her how much she loved her husband, while the devil on the other asked how well he’d loved her back—and how long was she going to deny her desires. Carla picked up the pork chop bone, not aware that Lavon watched her. She gnawed off the meat the fork missed and licked the gravy from her fingers.
    Lavon watched her tongue lick her fingers as if mesmerized. If the way she ate was any indication,