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  “The music’s started,” said Mom. She was looking out the window, too. “And Wyatt just checked his watch for the second time.”

  Before he blew his impatience gasket, we all trooped down to the foyer, with Siana and Jenni behind me helping me hold up the short train on the gown so I wouldn’t trip on it and fall down the stairs. My latest batch of bruises and scrapes had just healed; we didn’t want to start another bunch.

  Then they kissed me, the four of them—my mom, my almost-mother-in-law, and my sisters—and walked out into the garden to take their seats. No one was escorting me down the aisle. No one was giving me away. Dad had already done his duty once, and that was enough for any man. I was going to Wyatt under my own steam, walking alone. And he was waiting for me, alone.

  The music swelled, turned joyful, and I walked out. The gown flowed around me, showing the shape of my leg here, the curve of my hip there, for a fleeting instant before all was hidden again. The bodice clung to my breasts like the candy coating to an M&M. I did not limp. Not at all. Truth to tell, I completely forgot about my broken toe, because Wyatt had turned to watch me walking toward him and his green eyes blazed with fire and light.

  After the ceremony, when we were standing holding hands. Mom came up to hug and kiss both of us. Wyatt caught her right hand and carried it to his lips. “If it’s true that in thirty years a bride will be just like her mother…I can’t wait.”

  He’s a smart man, my husband, maybe too smart. With that one sentence, he put my mother firmly in his corner for the rest of her life.

  I wanted her in mine.

  Thirty-four days out

  “I can’t believe you did this!” Wyatt barked into my ear.

  “Can’t believe I did what?” I asked innocently. He was at work, and so was I. Married life had been rocking along just great, thank you, except for a few little details.

  “It’s notarized!”

  I waited, but he didn’t add anything. “And?” I finally prompted.

  “And only legal documents are supposed to be notarized! This is a list!”

  “But you weren’t paying any attention to it.” When his list of transgressions had been lying ignored on the table for over a week, just what was I supposed to do?

  Have it notarized and sent to him registered mail, that’s what.

  Blair’s Krispy Kreme Doughnut Bread Pudding

  There’s, like, a hundred different versions of this recipe. I only make it for special occasions or when I want to suck up to somebody, because it’s so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. And I don’t put raisins in my bread pudding; raisins are a Yankee thing. I think they look like bugs.

  To begin with, use a 13 x 9-inch glass pan. The glass is so the pudding won’t stick. If you want to use a disposable aluminum pan, then I guess it doesn’t matter if the pudding sticks.

  Anyway, preheat the oven to 350. That’s Fahrenheit. I don’t do Kelvin or Celsius because they’re just weird.

  Here’s what you need:

  2 dozen Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts, torn into little chunks. Actually, I like the crullers better than the glazed doughnuts, because the texture seems more bread-pudding-like, but go with your favorite. Put the chunks in a large bowl.

  3 eggs, beaten. You may like yours merely subdued, but I want mine beaten. Don’t add them to the doughnuts yet.

  1 can sweetened condensed milk. Add to eggs. Beat together.

  Vanilla flavoring to taste. Add to milk and egg mixture. Use 1 teaspoon if you don’t like a strong vanilla taste, add more if you do. The whole point of this is to make the bread pudding the way you like it.

  ½ stick melted butter

  Cinnamon to taste. It takes way more cinnamon than you probably expect, but start out with a little and keep adding until it tastes right.

  Pour all this into the bowl of doughnut chunks, and stir. It’ll be too dry, because now you have to make a choice. You can either put in a can of fruit cocktail, with the juice, which gives the pudding enough moisture—and in a weird way the fruit cocktail cuts down on the sweetness—or, if the idea of fruit cocktail in a bread pudding gives you the heebie-jeebies, just start adding milk, a little at a time, and stirring it in, until the texture seems right to you, not so juicy that it’s soup but moist enough that it’s kind of like a lumpy cake batter.

  Now you have another choice to make: chopped pecans, or no chopped pecans. I love it with the pecans. If you decide to use them, add 1 cup to the mixture and stir well.

  You can also add a little nutmeg, about 1 teaspoon, if you like. I usually don’t.

  Pour into pan and bake for 30 minutes. Check with a toothpick to see if it’s done. If it isn’t, let it cook for another five minutes and check it again. Ovens are weird; what’s 350 on mine might be 342 on someone else’s. And I don’t get the altitude thing at all.

  Take it out and let it cool. Add a glaze if you like, then dig in. If you don’t want to fool with a glaze but the pudding looks naked with nothing on top, then buy some cans of ready-made frosting and put it on. Talk about sugar overload. Whoa, Mama. If you want to make a glaze, here are two recipes:

  Simple Sugar Glaze

  2 cups confectioners’ sugar

  3 to 4 tablespoons milk or water

  Mix together, and beat until it becomes smooth and pourable. Drizzle over the bread pudding. If this isn’t enough, make more.

  Buttermilk Glaze

  ¼ cup buttermilk

  ½ cup sugar

  ¼ teaspoon soda

  1½ teaspoons cornstarch

  ¼ cup margarine

  1½ teaspoons vanilla extract

  Combine first five ingredients in a saucepan, bring to a boil, remove from heat. Cool slightly, then stir in the vanilla. Pour over the pudding.

  That’s it. Have fun! —Blair

  Acknowledgments

  Blair Mallory couldn’t have been written without the unwitting help of some of my friends and family, whom I have used shamelessly in her creation. Yes, a lot of what Blair thought and said came out of their mouths first. Scary, huh?

  This is to express my love and appreciation for, in no particular order: Brandy Wiemann, Beverly Barton, Linda Winstead Jones, Joyce Farley, Catherine Coulter, and Kelley St. John. Your minds are strange and wondrous places.

  And to the Children—Andrea, Danniele, Kim, Kira, and Marilyn. You guys rock.

  Also by Linda Howard

  A Lady of the West

  Angel Creek

  The Touch of Fire

  Heart of Fire

  Dream Man

  After the Night

  Shades of Twilight

  Son of the Morning

  Kill and Tell

  Now You See Her

  All the Queen’s Men

  Mr. Perfect

  Open Season

  Dying to Please

  Cry No More

  Kiss Me While I Sleep

  To Die For

  Killing Time

  Cover of Night

  Drop Dead Gorgeous is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2006 by Linda Howington

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  www.ballantinebooks.com

  eISBN: 978-0-345-49531-0

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