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And as the discussion raged on, suddenly I thought I heard something behind us. When I glanced back, I distinctly saw movement. Someone or something furtively ducking into the bushes lining the sidewalk, moving out of sight.

Odd, I thought. But when I tried to bring this to the attention of my friends, they were too busy discussing Tex’s future prospects—or lack thereof—to bother.

And as we finally reached the park, I had this strong sense of foreboding, and when I glanced back once more, I clearly saw a flash. And this time I was more certain than ever: it was the light of a streetlamp reflecting on a smartphone.

Someone was filming us!

CHAPTER 13

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“Honey, what were you thinking!”

“I was thinking about you, with that naked model artist guy,” said Tex miserably as he carefully folded his pants and draped them over the back of a chair.

They were in their bedroom, where no prying eyes or inquisitive voices could interrupt them. Marge was washing her face with a special lotion preparatory to applying the even more special—and costly—cream she’d recently bought on Scarlett Canyon’s instigation. A cream designed to keep her looking young forever, if the commercials were to be believed. And even though by all rights she should be mad at her husband, thinking back to the moment he’d been lying there, in thoseridiculous pink boxers, once again brought a smile to her face.

“At least you could have worn a decent pair of boxers,” she now said.

“I had no idea I was actually going to have to be a model!” Tex cried, sitting down on the bed, bouncing down once, then bouncing up again, too wired to sit still for even one second. “All I wanted was to talk to your teacher. Tell him to switch from live model drawing to still lifes. But themoment I arrived he seemed to think I was volunteering as a model, and before I knew what was going on, he had me in a dressing gown and mounting that stage!”

“I thought you’d managed for the other guy not to show up.”

“I had nothing to do with that. And Chekhov didn’t seem to know either.”

Marge laughed her tinkling laugh.“You should have told Chanda you’re a doctor, not a model.”

“I did tell him. More than once. But I don’t think he heard.”

“He was probably glad to have someone—anyone to model for us.”

“I can’t believe he actually made me go through with that,” Tex grumbled.

“And I can’t believe you agreed to go through with it,” said Marge. She smiled at her hubby of twenty-five years. “Though I have to say you still have what it takes, honey. You were a big hit.”

“I don’t care. This was the first and last time I’m doing something like this.”

“Are you sure? You could turn this into a career. Quit medicine and go into modeling full-time.”

“Never!” he cried, aghast at her suggestion.

“So you’re just going to let this other guy model in the nude for your wife again?” she asked. A spasm of unease galvanized his lanky frame and he grimaced. “Are you sure you won’t get jealous again and storm in there to drag me out?”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” he complained.

“Of course I’m teasing you! Though I have to say I appreciate you standing up to protect my virtue, honey.”

“When Ida told me the story about this guy I had to do something,” he said with a shrug, then eyed her curiously. “So you thought I looked all right out there?”

“You looked absolutely fine,” she said, and meant it, too.

He might not have the chiseled chest and sculpted musculature of the other guy, but Tex still looked pretty good for his age. He’d obviously been taking good care of himself. And besides, he looked like a real person, whereas the other guy looked like something out of a magazine, photoshopped and unreal.

“Just promise me next time you’ll change your boxers,” she repeated.

“There will be no next time,” he grumbled.

“So you say,” she said, and gave him a light pat on those boxers—the same ones he’d worn in class. Somehow she had a feeling those boxers would be the talk of the town tomorrow. She got up, ready to turn in. “Let’s go to bed, mh?”

He gave her a lopsided grin.“Want me to do some private modeling for you?”

“Oh, yes, please, Doctor Poole,” she said virtuously.

Half an hour later a knock sounded at the door.

“Is everything all right in there?” the voice of her mother sounded behind the door. “You two haven’t killed each other, have you?”

She smiled at her husband, who gave her a wolfish grin in return.

“No, we’re fine,” she yelled back. “In fact we’re better than fine!”

Who knew that some light male modeling would prove such a boon for their love life? Something to mention to Odelia. She could write about it for the women’s section of theGazette tomorrow. Without naming names, of course.

But then Tex got his second wind, and she forgot all about their daughter.

Ma must have been listening, for she could hear her mumble,“Get a room.”

CHAPTER 14

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