You have to. You can’t throw away forty years of marriage.”
“I don’t want to,” Hetty said. “But right now, I can’t live at home.”
Lexie gave her mum another hug. “Stay here as long as you want. You could help me look for my receipts.”
She didn’t want to mention she was low on groceries or that she had a cash flow problem. With luck she would sell a painting this week. The seascapes she did were bread and butter between the odd commission she got for portraits.
“I’ll pay rent, of course,” Hetty said, somehow reading her mind.
“Don’t even think about it,” Lexie said. “But I’d love you to show me some of the new yoga techniques you learned at the retreat.”
“Gladly.” Hetty gave her a watery smile.
Lexie released her mother. She picked up the bundle of clothes in the hallway and carried them to the front door. First thing tomorrow she would donate them to the thrift shop.
She was already beginning to feel lighter. It was good to start afresh. With a clearer mind she might find the key to finishing Sienna’s portrait.
But as she walked toward the spare room her footsteps slowed.
Lexie reached the box of clothes and removed the pink dress. She took it to her bedroom and hung it at the back of her closet.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT THE HELL’S going on, Murph?” Rafe said as he pulled up in front of Lexie’s house the next morning. Bulging plastic garbage bags were piled along the path. Boxes of odds and ends were stacked behind her car. The front door was propped open. Was she turning the house inside out in her search for the envelopes?
He parked at the curb and unloaded his briefcase and a couple bags of groceries. Murphy, his black-and-white mutt, scampered at his heel, sniffing boxes, relieving himself on the gardenia bush, barking at the brown cat that hissed at him before darting into the shrubbery.
Rafe stopped. The skeleton clock was in one of the boxes clearly destined for rubbish. He tucked it under his arm and knocked on the open door. Soft music was playing and vanilla incense drifted through the house. “Lexie?”
“Come in.” Her voice sounded constricted.
Rafe slipped off his shoes and walked through the hall, turning left into the living room. The coffee table and armchair had been pushed back so Lexie and her mother had space for yoga. Hetty was in a deep lunge, arms outstretched. Lexie was standing on one leg, doubled over and touching the floor. Her other long and shapely leg straight up in the air, toe pointed. Her hair hung in a curtain around her head.
It was rude to stare but he couldn’t help it. Lexie’s aqua blue tank top and low-slung cropped pants fit her like a second skin, molding to every slender curve. Man, she could bend.
Cool it, Ellersley. Independent state of mind, remember?
Positioning his briefcase in front of him, he began to recite the Taxation Administration Act of 1953 in his head. Murphy settled onto his haunches at Rafe’s feet.
Lexie lowered her leg with exquisite control and straightened, flipping her hair back. “Rafe, I found the envelopes!”
“Excellent.” His name on her lips, her excitement… Pursuant to Schedule A, Section D, the party of the first part shall pay a portion of their income to the Commonwealth of Australia, calculated for the financial period from the first day of July to the thirtieth day of June…
Then, before he could ask where the envelopes were, Lexie noticed Murphy. “Oh, my God, a stray followed you in. Quick, get him out before he goes after Yin and Yang.” She came at him, making shooing motions. “Go on, bad doggy, out!”
Murphy started licking her hands. She snatched her hands away.
“This is Murphy,” Rafe said. “Sorry, I should have asked first if I could bring him here. I couldn’t leave him home alone for days on end. He’s a good boy. He likes cats.”
Likes to annoy them. The truth was, Rafe had forgotten all about Lexie’s Burmese cats.
“All right,” Lexie said reluctantly. “But if they get stressed, he’ll have to stay in the backyard.” She noticed the grocery bags. “What’s this?”
“I thought I’d pick up a few things since I’ll be around a lot this week. You know how crabby I get when I’m hungry.” His conscience wouldn’t allow him to go out to eat knowing she was lunching on two-minute noodles.
Hetty straightened out of her yoga pose. “Hello,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Hetty. I arrived yesterday just as you were leaving.”
“Pleased to meet you officially,” he said, shaking hands.
Lexie peeked inside the grocery bags at the meat, cheese, eggs, fruit and vegetables he’d bought. She gazed at him, her eyes so dazzling they were hard to look at and impossible to turn away from. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“So,” he said, rubbing his hands together like some cartoon character because otherwise he’d reach out and touch her or do something equally inappropriate. “Show me to the envelopes.”
“Ta-da!” She gestured grandly to the dining table.
Rafe’s heart plummeted to the soles of his croc skins.
Holy shit.
Manila envelopes full to bursting were stacked four high and five or six wide. There must be dozens of them. As he looked, a precariously balanced envelope slid off the top of the pile and fell on the floor.
“I’ll put away the groceries.” Hetty picked up the bags and carried them to the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mum,” Lexie said.
Rafe walked over to the table and picked up one of the bulging envelopes. “Where did you find them?”
“In the garden shed,” she said excitedly. “I remembered where they were in the middle of the night. You know how sometimes you wake up and the answer to something that’s been puzzling you is right there, clear as a bell? I woke up with a picture in my mind of me shoving them on the potting table.”
The woman was certifiable.
And she was standing too close. Her perfume combined with the scent of her warm skin was stirring his hormones. Occasionally he was attracted to women he audited, but until Lexie they’d always been easy to resist. All he could think of right now was wanting to grab her and kiss her breathless.
He’d never encountered anyone like her—sexy and exasperating in almost equal measures. “Why would you put them in the garden shed?”
“They were driving me nuts. I had to paint.” Her gaze seemed to get stuck on the open neck of his shirt. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
“What if you needed to garden?” And didn’t that just make him picture her kneeling in the garden bed, her ass in the air?
“It
