LITMIR.BIZ

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press would crucify him.”

      “I don’t plan to tell anyone,” Sue said. “Do you?”

      “No.” Gemma worked to keep her voice casual. “Have you talked to him?”

      “As a matter of fact, I ran into him today in the lobby of the capitol building.”

      Gemma closed her eyes, hating herself for caring but unable to resist asking, “How is he?”

      “Fine. He’s fine, Gemma.”

      In the awkward pause that followed, Gemma sensed that Sue wasn’t being honest with her. Had Jason met someone else? Or had there been someone else all along?

      “Have you seen your new neighbor lately?” Sue asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

      Gemma’s thighs warmed as the image of Chev slid into her mind. She spoke carefully. “I saw him this morning as I was leaving. He chased away a peacock that was blocking my driveway.”

      “A peacock? Where on earth did that come from?”

      “I have no idea. Chev says they’re wild.”

      “Chev?”

      “Er, that’s his name. Chev Martinez.”

      “Sounds exotic. Is he Mexican?”

      “Puerto Rican, I believe he said.”

      “I had a Latin lover once,” Sue said with a sigh. “He was heavenly in bed.”

      Gemma squirmed. “That’s nice. And completely irrelevant to this conversation.”

      “I’m just saying.”

      “I’m not ready to move on,” Gemma said. “You know that Jason is the only man I’ve ever been with.”

      “All the more reason to have a fling,” Sue insisted. “Gemma, you and Jason are divorced. You don’t owe him any loyalty.”

      “I know. I just don’t remember how to be single.”

      “Be indulgent. Try on new things … new men.”

      Just the thought of “trying on” a new man made Gemma panic. She was better at performing at a distance than performing face-to-face.

      Why else would her husband have left her?

      “Right now I’m more worried about trying to pay the bills,” Gemma said, derailing the conversation.

      “I can still make those phone calls on your behalf.”

      “I’m hoping this tour guide gig will lead to a full-time job in the museum with a little more … coverage. If it doesn’t, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

      “Okay. Gotta run. Talk to you soon.”

      Gemma disconnected the call and shifted in her seat, staring at the long line of cars in front of her in the falling dusk. She tapped her finger on the steering wheel to the beat of the tune on the radio, frowning slightly when she realized she was listening to a Latino pop music station. She told herself it had nothing to do with the ethnicity of her next-door neighbor and the attraction simmering between them.

      It was the job, that was all. The suggestive outfit that she’d worn all day had her on a slow burn and sensitive to the throb of the exotic music. Her dirty little secret was that deep down, she’d experienced a thrill when she’d learned that flirty costumes were part of her new employment. She could feign consternation with Sue, but the only shameful part of being a tour guide for a naughty exhibit was how much she enjoyed it.

      She had reveled in watching the eyes of men—and more than one woman—rove over her breasts and legs as she lectured from index cards about the history of erotica and pinups. Just talking about the taboo of nude photography over history had made her breasts heavy and sent moisture to the juncture of her thighs as she explained the lengths that the photographers and models had gone to—including breaking the law—in order to fulfill their own fantasies and the fantasies of people who would secretly view the shocking, illegal photos. The provocative nature of the exhibit hadn’t been lost on the patrons. She had noticed couples touching more as the tour progressed and trading knowing looks as they left.

      Gemma tugged at the short skirt that had crept up her thighs. The other tour guides had changed out of their costumes before leaving the museum, but she’d wanted to view herself in the getup at home, and at her leisure. She didn’t plan to stop anywhere—she’d drive directly into the garage. No one would see her dressed in early fifties’ “pinup girl” black miniskirt, fitted pink blouse, fishnet stockings, and peep-toe black high-heeled shoes. In her lap, she toyed with the crisp lace that added a feminine touch to the provocative black mask. The sensation sent erotic vibrations traveling up her arm.

      When she drove by the Spanish-style home, she didn’t turn her head, but in her peripheral vision she saw that the silver pickup was there. Willing herself not to react to the fact that Chev Martinez was nearby, she wheeled into her driveway.

      But blocking her way was the pesky peacock.

      He sat in the center of her driveway, head bobbing and tail sweeping the ground behind him.

      “Not you again,” she said with a groan. Then she rolled down the window and leaned out. “Shoo! Go away!”

      When the bird didn’t move, she set her jaw. She’d pull forward slowly. As soon as the bird sensed the heat from her car, surely it would move, simply out of self-preservation. She inched the car forward, wincing when the bird seemed determined to stand its ground. The bird disappeared from her sight beneath the front of her car, then appeared suddenly in front of her windshield in a flurry of flapping wings and honking noises, landing on the hood. Gemma cried out and accidentally sounded the horn, sending the bird into another round of hysterics, its claws gouging long marks into the paint of the blue Volvo.

      “You’re ruining my car,” she screeched out the window. The agitated bird screeched back, then unleashed its tail fan on her, as if to scare her off with its dazzling plumage. Among the tail feathers were multicolored eye-shaped designs, a natural defense against predators, meant to confuse. Gemma’s irritation gave way to wonderment—the creature truly was extraordinary.

      “Quite a hood ornament you got there.”

      Gemma closed her eyes briefly in half-dread before turning her head to see Chev standing there, his dark head covered in a red bandanna, his skin and clothing coated with dust, his shirt sweat-stained and clinging to his broad shoulders. His dark eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter.

      “Hello,” she murmured, for lack of anything else to say.

      “I think he likes you,” he said with a grin. “Although I can’t say that I blame him.”

      Her cheeks warmed as he walked up to the car. She cursed her decision to wear her costume home. What if she’d been in an accident? Or what if her sexy next-door neighbor happened to see her?

      She shifted forward in her seat to hide the fact that she was scantily clad, hoping he couldn’t see her in the waning light. “I hate to bother you again, but would you mind chasing him off my car?”

      Chev waved his arms, grazing the big bird’s feather enough to give it a start. It clambered off the car hood and strutted away, crossing her lawn. Her neighbor leaned over to inspect the scratches in the paint. “I think these can be buffed out.”

      “Thanks for your help,” she said, then pressed the button on the garage door remote.

      “Don’t mention it.”

      Gemma pulled into the garage, thinking she’d dodged an embarrassing bullet, then realized that Chev was still standing next to her driveway, as if he wanted to talk to her. Lowering the garage door would be inexcusably rude, especially considering that he’d helped her not once, but twice today. So, swallowing her pride, Gemma opened her car door and stepped out. The black mask tumbled to the garage floor. She crouched to scoop

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