Page 68 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

“You could sitinthe chair.” She pointed. “As opposed to sittingagainstthe chair.”

“I don’t like chairs,” he said. “I only sit in them when I have to. We need to bring back Greek couches. Better for digestion. And making love. Missed opportunity for IKEA.”

“I’ll trade my love seat for your chair,” she said.

“Done.”

They swapped positions. She sat in the armchair and he took the love seat across from it. And, of course, he didn’t sit in it. He lounged on his side, and reposed himself like Caravaggio’sSleeping Cupid.

“Much better.” He grinned. “Oh, by the way, I did something else you’re going to be very angry about.”

“What now?” she asked.

“I found your note.” He pulled the envelope from his jeans pocket and opened it.

“You read the note from David?” she asked.

“I did.” He wrinkled his nose. Why was that so bloody adorable? She ought to be clawing his eyes out, not thinking of ripping his clothes off.

“Wonderful,” she said.

“But you shouldn’t be angry at me for reading your note. It was out in plain sight under a book on your side table. And when I see a note, I have to read it. It’s a religious precept,” he insisted. “Catholics eat fish on Friday during Lent. Muslims must give alms to the poor. Erotic cultists have to open secret notes they find.”

“I’m filing that information away in the same mental folder as the one that holds your ‘sex with a cloud’ comment.”

August rolled onto his back and propped his bare feet on the arm of her love seat.

“Come to think of it,” he said, pointing at the ceiling, then her. “It was really more of a thick fog than a cloud.” He turned his head and looked at her. “So it’s David Bell who’s blackmailing you.”

August held out the note to her as if she didn’t already know what it said. Lia stood and snatched the card from him.

“You know him?” she asked.

“The mural painter? The next Rex Whistler?” Lia nodded. “Don’t know him personally. What the hell could you have done to a muralist to make him come after you for a million pounds? Break his paintbrush?”

Lia sat back in the chair and started to raise her legs, planning to sit lotus-style. She quickly put her legs back on the floor and clamped her thighs together.

“I left my knickers on the floor of your office, didn’t I?”

“I brought them back,” August said.

“Where are they?”

“Gogo grabbed them from me. They’re, ah...on the floor.”

Lia peeked behind her chair and found her knickers, now damp with dog drool and full of teeth marks, on the rug.

“Lovely,” she said. “Just lovely. You break into my house. You read my letters. You let my dog eat my knickers. It’s really a good thing you’re attractive or I’d sack you.”

“You won’t tell me about David Bell?” August asked. “Before you sack me?”

Lia tugged her skirt a bit to cover herself. “I told you everything you need to know about him.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You said he was older than you, yes? How much older?”

“Twenty years older.” She waited for August to blink or raise an eyebrow. Nothing. The man was hard to shock.

“And when did you sleep with him?”

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