If the accent was the main problem with Jean pretending to be a domestic, a close second was her habit of ordering people around while she lounged and guzzled cocktails.
Jefferson started to reach into the box. “Are you sure?”
Libby’s first guess wassevered head,followed closely by the shriveled remains of my personal dignity.
He held up the desiccated corpse of a fish that would have been hideous even in life. It looked like a cursed experiment in papier-mâché, round-bodied, with nasty needle teeth and beady eyes.
Even Hildy was temporarily at a loss for words. “Is it—symbolic?”
This was clearly directed at Libby, or rather Lillibet, which meant Hildy expected more than,Hell, no! It’s a joke.
“Toxic waste.” The words seemed to come from nowhere, boxing Libby into a corner. How was Lillibet supposed to bringthat back around to Me-mas? “Sort of like with the food chain.” She looked at the fish for inspiration. “And mutations. Because I’m using the occasion to… shine a light on environmental issues.”
“It’s just an ugly fish—” Keoki began, but Jean cut him off.
“Change! Always nipping at our heels.” She made a biting motion with her hand. “Our Lillibet loves all the little beasties of the sea.”
“Deep thoughts,” Libby said, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. “Brought to you by Jose Cuervo,” she added under her breath as she stepped onto the ladder.
It wasn’t until she paused to hold her hand out to Jefferson that she realized the mask had slipped. He’d heard her make a highly un-Lillibet remark. Libby wasn’t sure how she knew, since he didn’t so much as twitch a brow, but the zing of awareness when their eyes met was undeniable.
Great. More fuel for the fire. Or maybepyrewas more accurate, since she was kindling her own funeral, one lie at a time. He’d probably added “basic bitch” to her cv. Right under “exhibitionist.”
He turned the fish so she could take it without touching the spiky fins, then braced the ladder as Libby climbed another rung. She was so acutely conscious of his presence, her legs trembled.
“Careful,” he said, and she tried not to jump at the phantom sensation of his breath caressing the back of her knees.
“Eyes over here.” Mr. L snapped a hand in Libby’s direction, and she felt the ladder vibrate as Jefferson stiffened. When she glanced down to make sure everything was okay, he was staring determinedly in the other direction.
Oh right. Because otherwise he could see up her dress. Libby wasn’t used to taking the geometry of miniskirts into account.
Her clothing was not Mr. L’s issue, however. He gestured at the hideous fish, sketching a sightline from its protruding eyeballs tohis own face to make sure the angle was just so. She might need to pull him aside later to explain that as her “husband,” he should pretend to care if a ruggedly attractive man had his face up his wife’s dress.Think of me like your favorite showerhead.
Libby was close enough to read the suppressed amusement on Jefferson’s face as he studied the fish, which had come to rest in her portrait’s hair like a demented fascinator. She wondered what he thought of the rest of it, assuming he’d looked.That’s not really me,she wanted to say.I have a lot more moles.
“Guess that’s his good side,” Jefferson’s voice rumbled, for her ears alone.
Something about the moment cut through all the pretense, transporting them back in time. He was talking to Libby, the girl on the beach, like he knew she was still in there. Without meaning to, she leaned toward him. Jefferson must have thought she was losing her balance, because his hand cupped the back of her calf for an instant before jerking away like he’d touched something hot.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded, telling herself to climb down before she did something stupid. Stupider.“Vertigo.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be on a ladder?” He side-eyed her supposed husband. To be fair, even if they were actually married, it wouldn’t make sense to put someone that vertically challenged on climbing detail.
“Hold on to your knickers,” Jean called out, hiccupping as the lights switched off, plunging the room into darkness. There was a rustling sound, and then a click. Electricity hummed as a network of tiny bulbs flared to life behind Libby’s portrait. One of them had been positioned directly behind the exposed nipple.
Libby felt for the next rung down with her toes, ready to put some distance between herself and this glow-in-the-dark peep show. She assumed Jefferson would move away as soon as shestarted to descend, but his hands stayed braced on either side of her body until it was almost as if those strong, warm arms were cradling Libby.
She knew she needed to move, but maybe she could get away with a few more seconds. He was close enough that she felt the cotton of his shirt brush her bare shoulders when he exhaled. Libby really needed a hug, even if it was an accidental one. Not a sexy hug necessarily, but that was a nice bonus.
The overhead lights flickered on. Libby froze in place for a tortured instant before hopping to the side and then back, like a solo line dancer.
“I think we should have a toast.” Hildy raised her glass, and Libby braced for the kind of scorched-earth speeches she occasionally witnessed as a cater waiter. Like the anniversary party at which a wife had thanked her husband of forty years for “honoring at least one of his wedding vows.”
Maybe Hildy was about to let it rip with something like,To my shameless hussy of a hostess, who clearly doesn’t want a job with my company, since she can’t stop throwing herself at my boyfriend!
“To new friends and new beginnings,” Hildy said with a cheerfulness that gave no indication she’d noticed Libby fawning over Jefferson.
