“That’s my cue,” I groaned, rolling off of Mike on the navy quilted bedspread. It was a sure bet that she’d be up here sniffing around before Mike could even collect himself after all the hard work I’d been doing.

“To be continued,” Mike said, pulling on my earlobe with his lips. “Hi, Mom,” he called loudly, crossing the room to rifle through his nautical mahogany trunk for some clothes.

I managed to shut my scantily clad self inside Mike’s Jacuzzi-equipped bathroom exactly one nanosecond before Diana took over the bedroom. I could smell her signature Shalimar perfume as she stood in the doorway. And from the hurried rummaging in the next room, it sounded like Mike was still scrambling into his shirt. Perfect. As if Diana needed more ammunition to play Ice Queen with me.

“I didn’t realize you were coming out today,” Mike said smoothly, probably standing to give her the double-cheeked kiss she always insisted on. “What’s the occasion?”

“Tsk tsk,” I heard Diana say, recalling my own mother’s favorite zinger about that annoying blue-blood habit of speaking in onomatopoeias: like they’re not rich enough to buy a vowel?

“Darling, don’t act so surprised,” Mike’s mother was saying. “You can’t think Natalie’s the only one who likes to make use of our villa. She’s here with you, no doubt?”

Sniff sniff. I envisioned her rhinoplastied — excuse me — deviated-septum-altered nostrils flaring with thinly veiled suspicion.

“She’s, uh, in the shower,” Mike covered for me, and I promptly turned on the faucet. I hadn’t been planning on showering until after we finished what we’d started in the bedroom and squeezed in a couple hours of sunset tubing on the boat. But then again, whenever Mike’s mother made a cameo, it wasn’t unusual for our plans to go to hell in one of her designer handbags.