Chapter 1
Phoebe Somerville outraged everyone by bringing a French poodle and a
Hungarian lover to her father's funeral. She sat at the gravesite like a
fifties movie queen with the small white poodle perched in her lap and a pair
of rhinestone-studded cat's-eye sunglasses shielding her eyes. It was
difficult for the mourners to decide who looked more out of place—the
perfectly clipped poodle sporting a pair of matching peach satin ear bows,
Phoebe's unbelievably handsome Hungarian with his long, beaded ponytail, or
Phoebe herself.
Phoebe's ash blond hair, artfully streaked with platinum, swooped down over
one eye like Marilyn Monroe's in The Seven Year Itch. Her moist, full lips,
painted a delicious shade of peony pink, were slightly parted as she gazed
toward the shiny black casket that held what was left of Bert Somerville.
She wore an ivory suit with a silky, quilted jacket, but the outrageous gold
metallic bustier beneath was more appropriate to a rock concert than a
funeral. And the slim skirt, belted with loops of gold chain (one of which
sported a dangling fig leaf) was slit at the side to the middle of her shapely
thigh.