“Smart-ass,” she mutters, returning her focus to a paper napkin beneath her hand. She’s been sketching, and I’ve been stealing glances, watching it unfold. It’s unclear to me what it is beyond black slashes and curves drawn so lightly they don’t tear the delicate paper. Even though its concept is a mystery, it makes me feel something sharp and intense. It makes me want to see more.

“What are you drawing?” I ask her.

She freezes, then slaps her hand over the paper napkin. It crumples inside her grip as she drags it off the table and shoves it in her dress pocket.

“No need to stop on my account.”

A splash of color hits her cheeks as she avoids my eyes. “That’s all right. My drawing isn’t fit for public consumption.”

“How so?”

She hesitates a beat, then meets my eyes defiantly. “I’m an erotic artist.”

“A what?”

My expression must be amusing because a laugh pops out of her, bright and sparkling as confetti. “I’m an erotic artist. I celebrate the human body’s sensuality through art. At the Edgy Envelope—Sula’s place—I design card stock, stationery, and other paper-based designs that contain subtly interwoven erotic imagery. Is that a problem?”

“Ehrm.” I blink at her. “No?”

I’m having a very hard time processing this information. Bea draws nudes. Erotic art. Does she draw herself?

Heat roars through me.

“That sounded like a question,” she says, eyeing me critically.

“Apologies. No. It wasn’t. And it isn’t. A problem, that is.” Except that my body’s on fire and my mind’s turned pornographic, picturing wet paint and bare skin and—

“Great,” Bea says, wrenching me from my obscene thoughts. “Let’s talk about why we’re here. Because even after pounding a chocolate chip muffin the size of my head, I’m still pissed.”

“I understand.”

She narrows her eyes. “Do you? You don’t seem upset.”

I peer down at the board, advancing my bishop. “I’m . . . perturbed.”

“You asshole!”

“What? Perturbed is what I’m feeling.”

“I’m talking about your chess move, Jamie.” She scowls at the board.

I take a long sip of gunpowder green tea, watching her examine her options. She’s done for unless she—

Damn. She moves her queen out of danger.

“So.” She sips her coffee. “You were saying.”

I advance my knight. “I was saying I’m perturbed.”

“Well, I’d be perturbed, too, if I’d just had a ginger scone with green tea.” She makes a gagging noise.

“Excuse you. Ginger and green tea are a classic pairing.”

She sips her coffee again, making a show of how delicious it is. “Mmm. Coffee is where it’s at. Coffee and chocolate. Green tea? Ginger? They taste like hand soap and floor cleaner.”