StillWaters:Book4oftheSophieGreenMysteries Read Free Page B

not look good. I was shaking slightly.
    I went to get some vitamins from my toiletry bag and guzzled them down. Now I felt better. Annoyed with Maria, scared that Luke would get the truth out of her—but Maria was a good spy. She never told anyone anything she wasn’t supposed to.
    Even if she had nearly just given me away.
    I washed my face and cleaned my teeth and ran down the stairs to my room to get undressed in lightning time, just in case Luke decided to come and try and get the truth out of me.
    But he didn’t. I read my book, I glared at the cherubs, I pulled the duvet right up to my chin and I shivered. Sleeping in the basement was chilly—concrete not being the cosiest building material. And all those cherubs were creepy. I switched out the light and closed my eyes but all I could see were Chuckie-like cherubs coming at me, their little cheeks bulging malevolently. My heart was hammering. This was ridiculous!
    Outside, I suddenly heard angry footsteps, saw the shadow of a woman running past, then someone caught her, and her feet spun back on themselves.
    “Just fuck off,” she screamed. “I don’t need you getting in my way!”
    “Molly—” a male voice pleaded. “Molly, just listen to me.”
    “All I’ve ever done is listen to you,” Molly cried. “Go away, leave me alone!”
    And with that, she broke free and ran away, down the alley. The male feet paused, then set after her, more slowly.
    Hmm. Maybe Cornwall isn’t as quiet as people think. Certainly my room wasn’t.
    The music from upstairs had stopped quite a while ago and so had all the footsteps. I was pretty sure they’d both gone to bed. I heard a noise and stayed very still—but it was Norma Jean’s claws tapping on the kitchen’s slate floor.
    I made my decision and got up. I was not going to be tortured out of sleep by a bunch of cherubs and a cold, concrete floor. I gathered up the woefully thin duvet and my pillows and shuffled up the stairs to the living room. It was empty, so I dumped my stuff on the sofa and made myself a little bed there, Norma Jean coming over and climbing clumsily onto my legs.
    I closed my eyes, more content now, and was just about to abandon myself to the prospect of a good night’s sleep when I heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door open.
    And I froze. I never checked the bathroom .
    And who should come out but Luke, looking delicious in a faded Crowded House T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, yawning and stretching so I could see the muscles move under his clothes. I told you he was physically perfect: long and lean, not burly, but definitely well-defined.
    I held my breath.
    “Norma, get down,” he said, coming over, and I closed my eyes, wincing as Norma Jean skulked back to her basket, and Luke stood silently by the sofa, waiting.
    I opened one eye.
    “Why are you sleeping on the sofa?”
    I scrunched up my nose. “My room is cold. And the cherubs are creepy.”
    He nodded as if this made perfect sense. “You want to sleep in my room?”
    I opened my mouth, but Luke cut in with a weary, “There are two beds.”
    I closed my mouth. A single bed would be more comfortable than the sofa. And at least Luke was wearing something.
    Even while I was telling myself it was a bad idea, I found my arms pushing back the duvet, my legs swinging out over the edge of the sofa, and my feet taking my weight. It seemed my body wanted the bed more than my brain wanted to resist.
    And at least this way I’d be able to look at Luke, maybe, as he slept… Because he was beautiful when he slept…
    And I’m actually disgusting myself here. I scowled at my reflection in the mirror at the foot of the stairs as I followed Luke’s luscious backside up the steep steps.
    He took his holdall (why don’t men ever use suitcases?) off the bed by the window and gestured to it as he closed the door and dropped the latch so Norma couldn’t come nosing in. I pulled back the duvet and got into bed, all without looking at him,