I decided that this was not a good time to tell Colin that amusing story about the guy who had blundered into our bathroom while I was showering. Picture Psycho, only without the axe and with more Herbal Essences.

“I was thinking buckets of water on the doorjamb,” I said. “If I could figure out how to rig it without getting soaked.”

“Pots and pans,” contributed Colin. “For them to trip over.”

We exchanged rueful smiles.

I stood on my tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Are you going to be okay in here?”

Colin’s eyes drifted to the window. “I’ll put my headphones on,” he promised. “If I can’t hear it, it’s not happening.”

“That’s the spirit!” I cheered. I paused with one hand on the doorknob. “If you get to the point where you can’t take it anymore, you know where to find me. We can drop water balloons on the film crew from the library windows. Or not.”

“Hmph,” said Colin, and pulled his headphones firmly down over his ears. They made him look a bit like Princess Leia.

I decided not to share that observation.

I grinned and waved and drew the door shut behind me, making my way back down the corridor, past the door to the master bedroom, over to the center of the house and the wing that housed the library. We’d taped signs that said “Private” on the door of the master bedroom, the bathroom, Colin’s study, and the library, but, so far, those signs had been just about as effective as the paper they were printed on, when it came to keeping people out.

It was going to be even worse starting this evening.

The high mucky-mucks were first showing up tonight and we were all going to have a great big get-to-know-one-another shindig in the dining room, catered courtesy of DreamStone. With big names to be found, Jeremy had condescended to come out to the wilds of Sussex for it.