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“I feel so objectified,” he said as she took the first sip.
“You ate it up with a spoon.” She took another sip, and a long look when he laughed. “But you do look pretty superior. And since you’re already dressed I’d better get my skinny ass moving.”
“I adore your skinny ass.” He gestured toward the bed when they went out. “If you don’t care for the dress we’ll find another.”
She would have called it yellow, but it wasn’t accurate. It was deeper, richer than yellow. Not brown, not that deep, but something that blended both into the tawny. It had light, she mused. Not sparkle or shine, just light. No fuss, no flounce—to her relief—just a column as sleek as her hair, and at a touch of her finger, as fluid as water.
“I’d be stupid not to care for it. I’m not stupid. And I’m also smart enough to know I’m lucky you think about things like this so I don’t have to.”
“I enjoy it; you don’t. Leonardo does exceptional work, and he knows your body, your style, and your preferences.”
She couldn’t argue with that, especially after she’d put it on. The material simply slid down, light as air, leaving her shoulders bare and giving her breasts a bit more of a boost than she thought they deserved.
But the hidden pockets in the side seams distracted and pleased her. She could easily tuck her clutch piece in one, her badge in the other.
What else did a woman need?
“You’ll want these.” Roarke handed her earrings—canary diamonds in long teardrops—and a cuff that married yellow diamonds with white. She added the necklace herself, the Giant’s Tear diamond he’d given her the day he’d told her he loved her.
“You’re beautiful.”
Sparkly, she thought, shimmery, and a little sleek. A costume, she thought again. Everyone wore them.
“It’s hard not to look good with all this. What color is this thing?” She brushed a hand down the dress. “I can’t figure it.”
“It should be easy for you, as you look at it every day.” He stepped behind her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “It’s your eyes.” He laid his cheek against hers for a moment while she frowned. “We’d better be off or we’ll be more than fashionably late.”
“Why is late fashionable?”
“I suppose because it gives the impression you have so many things to do you couldn’t possibly be on time.”
“Hah. Who knew? I’m almost always fashionable.” She held out her hand. “Come on, man-flesh. We’ve got to rock.”
Music rang from the rooftop and into the deepening skies. People glittered and gleamed and glided, bussing each other’s cheeks, chattering happily over bubbling wine. Candles, already lighted, flickered. The wind was picking up, Eve noted.
They were likely to get that storm before it was done.
“They’re going to want to close the dome before long,” Eve said to Roarke.
“We might as well enjoy the night air while we can. You’ll want to congratulate Nadine.”
“She’s surrounded.” And Trina had been right. Nadine looked abso fab in siren red, her hair artfully tumbled and scattered with sparkling pins that caught the last light of the sun. “I’ll wait until she’s got some breathing room.”
“You’re here!” Peabody, her hand caught in McNab’s, hurried over on the famous shoes. They were silver, opened at the toe to show off pale pink toenails, strapped multiple times at the ankles, and as sparkly as Nadine’s pins.
“Isn’t this mag? Total. Everybody’s here, and Nadine’s so happy. The music’s completely hot, and Mavis said she’s agreed to do a number later. Gosh,” she said after she’d taken a moment to breathe. “You guys look beautiful. Seriously.”
“You couldn’t look lovelier.” Roarke took Peabody’s hand and kissed it. “You’re a lucky man, Ian.”
McNab grinned. “Damn right, and if things go my way I’ll get luckier later.”
Peabody giggled and elbowed him.
Eve heard the squeal and turned. No one squealed like Mavis Freestone squealed. Her hair, summer blond and cotton-candy pink, bounced down her back as she bulleted—on the towering toothpicks held on her feet by two skinny crisscrossing straps— toward Eve. Her pink gown, caught at the hip with an enormous jeweled pin, flowed and flared with a slit that showed her pretty leg right up to the hip.
“I knew that dress would be Triple T on you!” She danced into Eve’s arms, then back again. “This is the juiciest party, and look at us! We’re the juice. Moonpie! Come see what your dress does for Dallas.”
Moonpie—or Leonardo—walked over in his version of a tux. The long, smoked silver coat suited his coppery skin and his considerable size. That same silver wound here and there through the rich copper curls that fell around his wide, fascinating face.
