Page 113 of Freeing Lark

“Time to update your furniture?” Jeeves asked.

“Or maybe those Swedish designs aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”

“I think that has more to do with who assembled it,” Spark mused.

“Must have been a hearty meal,” joked Jeeves. Lark wished the floor would open and swallow her. Jeeves glanced between the mangled furniture and the two of them, his eyebrows climbing suggestively.

“Don’t,” Cormac warned.

Lark’s face was on fire. She suddenly became fascinated by the floor.

Jeeves folded his arms. “So this is why you’ve been ignoring our calls.”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything.”

“Right.” Spark nodded solemnly. “You were just conducting... important field research.”

Lark covered her face with both hands. “Oh, this is humiliating.”

That only made them laugh harder. Cormac shot them a look that should have stopped a lesser man. It didn’t.

Jeeves pointed at the table. “You know, furniture isn’t cheap.”

“I’ll buy another one.”

Spark snorted. “I’m sure you will.”

Lark peeked through her fingers. “Do you two have an actual reason for being here?”

They exchanged a glance. “No,” Jeeves admitted.

“We were bored,” Spark added.

Cormac stared at them. “You walked into my house because you were bored?”

“Pretty much.”

Lark dropped her hands. “These are the men protecting me?”

Cormac’s mouth twitched. “Unfortunately.”

Spark grinned at her. “Don’t worry. We’re much more professional when bullets are involved.”

Lark wasn’t sure that made her feel better. She looked at the broken table again and groaned. “I am never going to recover from this.”

Jeeves laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. Around this group?” He shook his head. “You’ve just given them material for the next decade.”

Lark looked at Cormac. He had the audacity to look amused. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Traitor.”

His grin widened. And somehow, despite her embarrassment, she found herself smiling too.

CHAPTER 36

By the time Hoot and Lark arrived at the Meadows’ Georgetown house, he’d already decided he disliked the place. It wasn’t the house itself. The sprawling brick townhome was beautiful, if a little too polished for his taste. Every window gleamed. Every shrub looked professionally groomed. Even the damn front steps seemed to have been scrubbed into submission.