Free Sunrise in a Garden of Love & Evil by Barbara Monajem Page B

at the art school, and someone took pictures of her."
    "What's wrong with that crazy girl? If she was short of money, she should have come to me."
    "You're behaving just like she said you would. There's nothing wrong with posing nude. Maybe she enjoys it. Maybe she likes people looking at her naked body. Many women do."
    The whine of a vacuum came from inside the house, too close to be a coincidence, and Ophelia gave a tiny spurt of laughter. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the narrow window beside the door, while Gideon stood well back. Women. All of them were insane.
    "Scaredy-cat," Ophelia taunted. The beginnings of a grin tilted her mouth.
    Gideon fought amusement. "If you want to clean house in the buff, honey, I won't be shy. You'd look cute with a feather duster." He leaned on a column and looked her over.
    "That is so sexist." Ophelia returned his stare, hot and haughty. "But then, you're used to being that way. Your bimbos will do anything you ask."
    Bimbos? "I suppose you got that from my sister, who doesn't know any more about my sex life than I do about hers." His eyes drank in the swell of Ophelia's breasts and the lush curve of her hips and he almost caught fire. Something pushed him in one smooth motion away from the pillar and toward those hot eyes and lips, something primal. He settled a hand on her waist, hard, cupped a warm breast with the other and fastened his lips on hers. Ophelia whimpered and pressed herself into his hand, parted her lips, and licked back at him with a hot, eager tongue.
    "Gideon O'Toole!" A voice out of the past slapped at him. Gretchen barked, and sharp footsteps clomped up the steps. "You should be ashamed of yourself!"
    Gideon pulled dazedly away as a hickory switch smacked his legs. Gretchen barked again and felt the switch in her turn, and Ophelia skittered down the stairs, saying, "Thanks, Mrs. Cotter," her face white, hands to her lips. "I don't know what got into me." She hurried toward the garden.
    "Gideon's been like this since he was a boy," Mrs. Cotter replied. Twenty-odd years had left her unchanged when it came to dispensing untender care. "I caught him kissing the girls in first grade."
    "Yes, Mrs. Cotter," Gideon admitted. "And they always enjoyed it--as Ophelia was doing until you came along."
    "Sassy boy, making a display of yourself, kissing and fondling in public. Such things should be kept private." Mrs. Cotter clopped away down the walk. "As for you, Ophelia, be warned. This boy's been trouble from day one."
    Ophelia was scanning the flower bed. "Thanks again, Mrs. Cotter. I really appreciate it. I have work to do. Here"--she marked with a trowel from her belt--"here and here." Dirt was soon leaping obediently into neat piles beside precise little holes. Gretchen snuffled at the aromatic earth. Mrs. Cotter continued briskly down the sidewalk, no doubt planning to call the chief of police.
    "Kissing and fondling in private sounds like fun," Gideon suggested.
    Ophelia's eyes remained on the ground. "No."
    "You were enjoying it. I was enjoying it. Why not?"
    "No," Ophelia said again. She pushed Gretchen gently away and strode along the flagstone path to disappear through a gate in the stone wall. A minute later, still not looking at him, she returned with two flats of impatiens.
    You knew this was a bad idea, Gideon told himself, unable to walk away but needing to take care of Art. This woman was a mess. His sister was a mess. He wasn't a frigging therapist.
    "What's Ms. Dukas being blackmailed about?"
    For a long second, he thought Ophelia would refuse to reply. Then, "Her husband took pictures of her nursing her baby naked." When he made an impatient noise, she added, "You never know when some social worker will decide that's perverted. Andrea won't take chances with her kids."
    "The blackmailer's someone at a photo shop? There's only one left in town. It's a print shop, too, as I recall."
    "Yes." She sounded grudging.
    "I suppose you're