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He opted for Mexico. It was a quick, easy flight, and his villa there on the turbulent west coast was always prepared. Unlike his home in New York, he kept it fully automated, calling in domestics only for lengthy stays.
In Roarke’s mind, droids and computers were convenient but impersonal. For the purposes of this visit, however, he was content to rely on them. He wanted Eve alone, he wanted her relaxed,
and he wanted her happy.
“Jesus, Roarke.”
She took one look at the towering, multilayered building on the brink of a cliff and goggled. It looked like a extension of the rock, as if the sheer glass walls had been polished from it. Gardens tumbled over terraces in vivid colors, shapes, and fragrances.
Above, the deepening sky was devoid of any traffic. Just blue, the swirl of white clouds, the flashing wings of birds. It looked like another world.
She’d slept like a stone on the plane, barely surfacing when the pilot had executed a snazzy drop landing that had placed them neatly at the foot of zigzagging stone steps that climbed the towering cliff. She was groggy enough to reach up to be certain he hadn’t slipped VR goggles on her while she’d slept.
“Where are we?”
“Mexico,” he said simply.
“Mexico?” Stunned, she tried to rub the sleep and the shock from her eyes. Roarke thought, with affection, that she looked like a cranky child awakened from a nap. “But I can’t be in Mexico. I have to—”
“Ride or walk?” he asked, pulling her along like a stubborn puppy.
“I have to—”
“Ride,” he decided. “You’re still groggy.”
She could enjoy the climb later, he thought, and its many views of sea and cliffs. Instead, he nudged her into a sleek little air cart, taking the controls himself and shooting them up to vertical with a speed that knocked the rest of sleep out of her system.
“Christ, not so fast.” Her instinct for survival had her clutching the side, wincing as rocks, flowers, and water whizzed by. He was roaring with laughter when he slipped the little cart into place at the front patio.
“Awake now, darling?”
She had her breath back, barely. “I’m going to kill you as soon as I make sure all my internal organs are in place. What the hell are we doing in Mexico?”
“Taking a break. I need one.” He stepped out of the cart and came around to her side. “There’s no doubt you do.” Since she was still holding onto the side, knuckles white, he reached in, plucked her up, and carried her over the irregularly shaped stones toward the door.
“Cut it out. I can walk.”
“Stop complaining.” He turned his head, expertly finding her mouth, deepening the kiss until her hand stopped pushing at his shoulder and began to knead it.
“Damn it,” she murmured. “How come you can always do that to me?”
“Just lucky, I guess. Roarke, disengage,” he said, and the decorative bars across the entrance slid apart. Behind them, doors ornate with carving and etched glass clicked open and swung back in welcome. He stepped inside. “Secure,” he ordered, and the doors efficiently closed while Eve stared.
One wall of the entrance level was glass, and through it she could see the ocean. She’d never seen the Pacific, and she wondered now how it had earned its serene name when it looked so alive, so ready to boil.
They were in time for sunset, and as she watched, speechless, the sky exploded and shimmered with bolts and streams of wild color. And the fat red globe of the sun sank slowly, inevitably, toward the blue line of water.
“You’ll like it here,” he murmured.
She was staggered by the beauty of an ending day. It seemed that nature had waited for her, held the show. “It’s wonderful. I can’t stay.”
“A few hours.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Just overnight for now. We’ll come back and spend a few days when we have more time.”
Still carrying her, he walked closer to the glass wall until it seemed to Eve that the entire world was made of frantic color and shifting shapes.
“I love you, Eve.”
She looked away from the sun, the ocean, and into his eyes. And it was wonderful, and for the moment, it was simple. “I missed you.” She pressed her cheek to his and held him tightly. “I really missed you. I wore one of your shirts.” She could laugh at herself now because he was here. She could smell him, touch him. “I actually went into your closet and stole one of your shirts—one of the black silk ones you have dozens of. I put it on, then snuck out of the house like a thief so Summerset wouldn’t catch me.”
