Wyoming Wife?. Shawna Delacorte

a feeble gesture toward the stove, then shrugged in a halfhearted manner that said she clearly did not have any sort of a plan in mind. In an attempt to salvage whatever credibility she could, she pointed to the table in the dining room. “I made a salad.”

      “So I see.” He also saw that the table was set for a dinner party, not for dinner. She had made a salad but had nearly destroyed a chicken. He folded his arms across his chest and leveled an appraising look at her while doing his best to hide his amusement.

      Samantha steeled herself against Jace’s penetrating gaze. She made her living with her communication skills. Her strengths centered on her ability to analyze a problem and pinpoint an efficient and logical solution. However, this one had her stumped. She had nowhere to go and no viable excuse to offer. She had only the truth, as mortifying as it was. She looked at him, squared her shoulders, took a determined breath, then blurted out, “I can’t cook. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.” She glanced around the kitchen, then returned her attention to Jace. “Maybe if you had a microwave...”

      He stared at her for a moment, disbelief covering his face. “You don’t know how to cook?”

      “I’ve never had occasion or the time to learn. I’ve been too busy, first with school and then with my career.” She tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to keep the edge of irritation out of her voice. “The fact that I’m a woman doesn’t mean I was born with a fully realized set of domestic skills.”