Libby caught herself nodding and tried to pass it off as a cough, like she hadn’t noticed any intimate details about him. Not the way he smelled or his calf muscles or the color of his eyes or his body heat. Nope. Not her.
“My feet are sandy.” He didn’t look at Libby. “If that’s okay? I don’t want to mess up your plans.”
Ha! Too late for that.Before Libby could think of a less damning response, Mr. L leaped into the breach.
“A shower is never ‘okay,’” he sniffed. “Not in this house.”
“Because our showers are so very exceptional,” Libby said into the confused silence.
Her pretend-husband nodded. “Indoor, outdoor, steam, monsoon, thermostatic—”
“I can show you,” she cut in, hoping to spare them the full catalog.
“Are you sure that’s wise, now, lassie? What with the servin’ o’ dinner to supervise and all?”
If only I had—I don’t know—ahousekeeperto help with things like that,Libby glared back at Jean.
“Go ahead.” Hildy picked up the bowl of mixed arare crackers, tossing one into her mouth. “Maybe JJ can try one of your scented oils?”
Was the condensation on the windows from the rain, or had Libby fogged the glass by imagining her hands gliding across Jefferson’s chest?
“Hurry back.” Jean tapped the corner of her eye, their signal for,I’m watching you.
“Time is honey, as I like to say. Sticky and everlasting.” While everyone grappled with that stunningly opaque Lillibet-ism, Libby tried to slow her galloping pulse. It wasn’t only the prospect of alone time with Jefferson making her heart race. Or the showering, though that was certainly front and center in her consciousness. Full frontal, you might say.
Escaping this room would be like stepping offstage, away from the harsh glare of the spotlight—some of which was emanating from an artistic rendering of her left breast.
She turned to Jefferson, swallowing to keep her voice from coming out too husky. “Follow me.”
Chapter 8
lovelillibetWe all find our own path to quieting the storm inside, but I have to say that sensory deprivation tanks have never worked for me. I’d rather feel everything than nothing, chase fullness instead of absence.
Give me a sensory maximization chamber. That would be something.
Love, Lillibet
Image: Dark storm clouds mass above a wind-tossed sea.
#lightandshadow #wecontainmultitudes #ridethestorm #passionisalwaysinfashion
“You have a beautiful home,” Jefferson observed as he followed his hostess up the stairs.
It seemed like the right thing to say, even if the word felt wrong. A home suggested something scaled for humans. This was more of an estate. And it might not even be their main residence. He vaguely recalled Hildy referring to this as a beach house, which implied the existence of other homes.
“It’s what’s on the inside that counts,” Lillibet replied, after a pause so long he wondered if she’d heard him. There was a microscopic flinch before she added a smile.
“You’re not what I was expecting.” He meant it as a compliment, but the glance she gave him over her shoulder was wary.
“No?”
He couldn’t think of a socially acceptable way to explain that Hildy had made Lillibet sound like a spoiled nightmare, as opposed to the warm and appealing human in front of him. With the long limbs and softly swaying hips.
“Why do you do it?” he asked instead.
She stumbled over the top step, righting herself as she turned to face him. “I’m sorry?”
“Putting your life online.” He gestured at the foyer below them. “It’s not for money. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t seem like an attention-seeker.” She’d spent half the night trying to fade into the woodwork. Apart from the giant nude portrait. Possibly she hadn’t anticipated company when that particular piece of art was commissioned.
