Ian moved toward me, but I kept stepping away. Despite all the times we’d been together, he could still make me feel wary; and, yet, I trusted him implicitly, inexplicably. I trembled with anticipation.

I said, “I only came here to deliver a package from Gigi. It’s on the table. It’s a framed mug shot.”

“How thoughtful. I’d like to have a photo of you now, my raven-haired Venus rising from the waters.”

“I bet you would.”

He feinted a move left and I took a step right.

“Hellooo!” came a woman’s voice.

As I looked to see who was calling, Ian moved swiftly to me and grabbed my wrist. I yanked hard, trying to throw him off balance, but I was distracted by the woman who appeared around the side of the house.

She was a pretty honey blonde with hair below her shoulders and a golden tan. She had the look of the wealthy women here, from her neatly arched brows to her narrow nose to her perfectly polished toenails in chic sandals. She wore a gauzy sleeveless shift and her arms and long legs were toned. She seemed to be about thirty, but it was hard to tell.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said cheerfully.

“Not at all,” Ian said with a smile as he let go of my wrist.

It’s amazing how accurate those dreams of being naked are: you think that if you act normal, no one will notice. I held my hands demurely in front of my hoo-ha.

She said, “I saw your Jag here and thought I’d introduce myself. I live next door.”

Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses and I couldn’t read her expression as she took in my nakedness. I stood straight and pulled my shoulders back, although parts of me continued to point forward. “Do excuse me for being underdressed.” And overfleshed.

“What’s the good of having a pool if you can’t skinny-dip?” she said, and turned her attention to Ian. “I’m Christine Poindexter, but everyone calls me Cricket.”

“Delighted. This lovely young woman is Milagro de Los Santos and I’m Ian Ducharme.”

Cricket tilted her head in a way that her first boyfriend probably told her was adorable. “Lord Ian Ducharme? You’re a friend of Gigi Barton’s, aren’t you?” Her smile broadened, showing lots of straight white teeth.

I said, “Yes, Gigi’s fab. I just came from her place,” but Cricket wasn’t asking me.

“Milagro redesigned Gigi’s garden to reflect her vivid personality,” Ian said, gazing fondly at me. “Milagro has a talent for bringing out one’s essential character.”

I liked that he never left me out of conversations even when he dragged me naked into them.