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Pounding himself into her, he felt her heart gallop. He felt it burst. And he knew Kevin had been right. It was like being born.
He studied her after she was used up, when her body grew colder on the tangled sheets and rose petals. And knew one thing more. This had been his right. She was every girl who had ever ignored his needs, or turned away when he was unable to perform. Everyone who’d ever refused him, denied him, smirked at him.
She was, in essence, nothing.
He dressed, brushed at the sleeves of his suit jacket, shot his cuffs. Leaving the candles burning, he strolled out. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Kevin.
Eve felt fabulous. Sex and sleep, she decided. It was hard to beat the combo. Then when you started the day with a quick swim, a monster cup of real coffee strong enough to break bricks, you were in fat city.
The way she was feeling, she figured the bad guys had best take a day off.
“You look rested, Lieutenant.” Roarke leaned on the jamb of the doorway between their home offices.
“Ready to rock,” she said, watching him over the rim of her coffee cup. “I guess you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I made a pretty good start on that.”
She snorted. “Yeah, not bad, but I was thinking of work.”
“Ah. I’ve made a start on that as well.” He crossed over, caged her in between his body and the desk. Leaning over, he stroked the cat who’d draped himself over the ’link like a rag.
“You’re crowding me, pal, and I’m on the clock here.”
“Not for five minutes yet.”
She angled her head to look at her wrist unit. “You’re right. Five minutes.” She slid her arms around his waist. “We ought to be able to . . .” Just as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, she heard the approaching footsteps, the unmistakable clomp of cop shoes. “Peabody’s early.”
“Let’s pretend we didn’t hear her.” Roarke nibbled at her mouth. “That we can’t see her.” Traced it with his tongue. “That we don’t even know her name.”
“That’s a good plan except—” When he put sincere effort into the kiss, she was pretty sure she could feel her heart melting. “Down boy,” she murmured just as Peabody strode into the room.
“Oh. Um. Ahem.”
Roarke turned, picked up Galahad to scratch his ears. “Hello, Peabody.”
“Hi. Welcome home. Maybe I’ll just go in the kitchen there and get some coffee . . . and stuff.”
But when she started by, Roarke reached out, lifted her chin with a finger, and studied her face. It was pale, the eyes heavy and chased by shadows. “You look tired.”
“Guess I didn’t sleep very well.” She muttered, “Need that coffee.” Then she hurried away.
“Eve.”
“Don’t.” She held up a finger at Roarke’s quiet tone. “I don’t want to talk about that now. I don’t ever want to talk about it, but I especially don’t want to talk about it now. And if anybody had listened to me when I said she and McNab getting tangled was going to screw things up, we wouldn’t have to talk about it, would we?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you’re talking about it.”
“Oh, shut up. All I know is she’s going to suck it in and do the job, and so is he.” She gave the desk one bad-tempered little kick before walking around behind it. “Now go away.”
“You’re worried about her.”
“Damn it, you think I can’t see she’s hurt? That it doesn’t get to me?”
“I know you can, and I know it does.”
She opened her mouth, then heard more footsteps in the hallway. “Let it go,” she muttered. “Peabody.” She lifted her voice. “Feeney’s here. Coffee light and sweet.”
“How’d you know it was me?” Feeney demanded as he came inside.
