Chapter 28

I turned to the last wall, where the fireplace Mark had talked about took up a good portion of the space. In front of the hearth, a surprisingly thick, plush rug encouraged the observer to stretch out and perhaps nap on it.

Beside the fireplace was the large, lifelike statue of a black and brown dog, and I had to stifle my amusement at its whimsicality. A Santa hat perched at a jaunty angle over one ear, while a Christmas ornament—Santa in his shirtsleeves, holding a bottle of Coke—dangled from a piece of denim secured in its mouth. Odd. I would have thought the hook would have fit handily over a canine tooth.

I removed my suit jacket and placed it over the side of the couch. The throw looked so soft I couldn’t resist stroking the pattern of cream and beige swirls. Would I have the opportunity to feel it against my body? Well, we’d see. I reached for my tie, then paused. Mark had said he wanted to undo it.

“Mark,” I called. “May I turn on the fireplace?”