Free Two Against the Odds by Joan Kilby Page B

would for me. Not you, of course. I mean, not that you’re not—” He broke off, sweating.
    â€œI know what you mean, dear, don’t worry. Let me see if I’ve got all this,” Hetty said, counting off on her fingers. “Suck up to the dog, don’t beat around the bush and channel my inner courtesan.”
    Rafe blew out a gusty breath. “That about sums it up.”
    â€œWhat do you think about pole dancing? Sex toys?”
    â€œI think you’ve got enough going on.” Rafe picked up his briefcase and started to back out of the room. “I’d better get to work on the audit.”
    â€œI thought you wanted to talk to Lexie?”
    â€œEr, that can wait. I don’t want to disturb her if she’s painting.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to disturb her,” Hetty announced,rising, too. “She can spare an hour to go shopping with me.” She put down her tea towel and walked out the back door to the studio.
    Rafe sat at the dining room table and unpacked his briefcase. He was up to his elbows in receipts and trying without much success not to think about Lexie’s mother pole dancing in a corset and garters when Lexie came breezing into the living room with her purse slung over her shoulder.
    â€œWhat did you and Mum talk about?” Lexie asked. “She’s champing at the bit to get down to some specialty shop in Frankston and she swears she can’t go without me.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know anything about that,” Rafe said. “But listen here, you can’t go telling her about us. You can’t tell anyone.”
    â€œSorry, it just slipped out this morning. She sort of guessed. But don’t worry. Hetty won’t tell anyone else, definitely not your boss.” Lexie waggled her fingers. “I’ll see you later.”
    Lexie and Hetty left. And finally, without distractions, he began to get somewhere. The pile of envelopes he’d gone through was now greater than the pile yet to be explored. Opening a new one was like unearthing the records of some ancient civilization. He could deduce a lot about Lexie’s life by the way she spent her money. Paints, restaurants, books, music, admission to art galleries, vet bills, professional dues—
    Rafe heard the front door creak open. Lexie must have forgotten something. But the click of high heels didn’t sound like her. She’d gone out in flat sandals.
    He glanced up.
    The attractive woman standing before him had bouncy brown chin-length hair and was carefully made up. Her royal-blue suit fit like a glove. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her. Didn’t anyone knock and wait to be invited in around here?
    â€œEr, can I help you?” he said. “Lexie’s just gone out.”
    â€œI’m Renita, her sister,” the woman said. “You must be the tax man. Hetty told me about you.”
    Hell. What exactly had Hetty said about him? He hoped Renita wasn’t looking for sex advice, too. But no, Hetty wouldn’t have had time to spread that news. He hoped.
    â€œRafe Ellersley.” He rose, extending a hand. “Australian Taxation Office.”
    â€œIs my mother here?”
    â€œShe and Lexie went shopping.”
    â€œReally? Lexie hates shopping,” Renita mused. “She must still be blocked.”
    â€œApparently she’s had a brainwave. She got up in the middle of the night to paint.”
    â€œOh?” Renita eyed him.
    â€œThat’s what she told me this morning,” Rafeadded quickly. All he needed was another Thatcher woman discussing his sexual relations with Lexie. They’d probably invite this Sienna person, too, and serve wine and cheese.
    â€œWell, good for her. Listen, I dropped by to borrow Lexie’s punch bowl. And to remind her we’re having a barbecue for Jack and Sienna tonight at Brett’s new house. They’re leaving for Bali next week to get