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And he wasn’t there to be irritated by her leaving her car in front instead of stowing it in the garage. It almost compelled her to put it away herself.
But there was no need to get crazy.
She left it where it was, trudged through the smothering heat, and into the glorious cool of home.
She’d nearly turned to the monitor to ask Roarke’s location when she caught the faint drift of music. Following it, she found him in the parlor.
He sat in one of the plush antique chairs he favored, a glass of wine in his hand, his eyes closed. It was so rare to see him completely shut down, she felt a little twist under her heart. Then his eyes opened, that shock of blue, and when he smiled the pressure released again.
“Hello, Lieutenant.”
“How’s it going?”
“Better than it was. Wine?”
“Sure. I’ll get it.” She crossed over to the bottle he’d left on the table, poured a glass for herself. “Been home long?”
“I haven’t, no. A few minutes.”
“Did you eat?”
His eyebrows arched, the eyes beneath warming with humor. “I did, if one considers what’s available at the hospital edible. And you?”
“I caught something, and yours couldn’t have been worse than what I can get at Central. So you went by to see Mr. Grace and Agility?”
“He sends you equally fond thoughts.” Roarke sipped his wine, watched her over the rim. Waited.
“Okay, okay.” She dropped into a chair. “How’s he doing?”
“Well enough for someone who fell down a flight of steps this morning. Which he wouldn’t have done if he’d use the flaming elevator. Snapped his fucking leg like a twig, ripped bloody hell out of his shoulder. Well.”
He closed his eyes again, tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Opened his eyes again. And made her wonder if he went through that same routine when he was settling down after dealing with what he liked to call one of her “snits.”
“Well. They’ve got the leg in a skin cast and brace, and tell me it’ll fuse like new. A clean break. The shoulder’s likely to trouble him longer. He’s sixty-eight. I couldn’t remember that this morning. You’d think he’d use the elevator when he’s got an armload of something or other. And why he’d bother with linens when he should’ve been getting himself out the door for holiday is another that’s beyond me.”
“Because he’s a stubborn, tight-assed son of a bitch who has to do everything himself, and his way?”
Roarke let out a half-laugh and drank more wine. “Well, so he is.”
And you love him, Eve thought. He’s your father in every way that counts.
“So, you’re bringing him home tomorrow.”
“I am. My ears are still ringing from his annoyance that he isn’t home tonight. You’d think I’d locked him in a snake pit rather than seeing he’s in a private suite at the best medical facility in the goddamn city. Fuck me, I should be used to that sort of thing.”
She pursed her lips when he shoved out of the chair and headed back to the wine bottle. “I guess you bitch to him about how I complain when you dump me in a health center. Maybe the two of us can arrange for you to have some hospital time. Then Summerset and I will finally bond.”
“What a happy day that’ll be.”
“Had a crappy day, haven’t you, ace?” She set her glass aside and rose.
“Tomorrow promises to be just as delightful. He’s not happy with the idea of having a medical aide in-house here for the next week or so.”
“Can’t blame him. He’s feeling stupid, uncomfortable, and pissed off. So he kicks at you, because he loves you best.” She took the glass from Roarke’s hand, set it down. “That’s what I do.”
“From the bruises on my ass, both of you must love me desperately.”
“I guess I do.” She linked her arms around his neck, fit her body to his. “Why don’t I show you?”
