“Us,” Mike said, and Sara groaned.
Once they were inside, she followed Mike and saw that he knew nearly everyone. Men—with arms the size of truck tires—shook his hand and leaned toward him in what she assumed was a masculine greeting in South Florida. Women—who had behinds hard enough to repel buckshot—kissed his cheeks and stood much, much too close to him.
Mike introduced her as his wife to all the men, but in Sara’s opinion he reacted too slowly with the women, so she introduced herself.
When a pretty, young woman, Megan, came in, Sara was reluctant to leave him alone. But Mike sent Sara off with the yoga instructor and they went into the big wooden-floored court.
“So let’s see what you can do,” Megan said.
An hour later, Sara was released, and Mike, showered and freshly dressed, met her by the door.
“Well?” he said to Megan.
“Exactly as you said.”
“Thanks a lot,” Mike said and kissed Megan’s cheek. He opened the door for Sara, and they went outside where it was just barely daylight.
“What was that all about?” Sara asked when they got in the car.
“It was Megan’s report and she agreed with my assessment of you. You have no muscles to speak of, but you’re flexible as all hell. She thinks that if you work really hard, in a year or two you could be good enough to become a real student of yoga. From Megan that’s high praise.”
“Yeah?” she asked, pleased. Not that she wanted to do that, but it was nice to hear.
“But you need some muscle. I’ll take care of that.”
“Does that mean I’m to get on top more often? Good for the ol’ legs.”
“Don’t start tempting me. I have to go to work.”
“And what am I supposed to do all day?”
“You can—” He broke off because his cell phone rang. He checked the ID before answering. “I’ll be there—Oh. All right. I have no idea.” He looked at Sara. “Can you type?”
“Yes.”
Mike listened at the phone, then turned back to Sara. “Can you take dictation?”
“Luke dictated his first book to me.”
Mike looked impressed. “She writes Luke Adams’s books for him,” he said into the phone.
“I do no such—” Sara began before she realized he was teasing.
Mike said a few more words then hung up. “That was the captain. He said I needed to write down everything I’d done and learned in Edilean, and since I’m the world’s worst typist, he suggested I dictate it all to you. And what’s the mystery about the tarot cards?”
Sara wanted to jump up and down in happiness that she and Mike would get to spend the day together. If her body hadn’t just been twisted into several unnatural positions, she might have done so.
They’d reached the house, and Sara waited until they got out before answering. “Shamus made portraits of the people of Edilean.”
“He did what?”
“He painted everyone on the cards.”
“I guess ‘everyone’ means the people from the founding families, not the newcomers like me.”
“Don’t get snobby on me. Your picture and Tess’s are on there, and Shamus included a lot of clients from the dress shop.”
Mike’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that Mitzi Vandlo’s picture could be on those cards?”