Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(40)

“Laugh. Then help her put more on.”

“And there you have it. I’ll be an hour.”

“That works for me.”

She spent another minute in bed, stroking the cat.

“You know, between you and Roarke I ended up with a couple of solid moms. Not an insult,” she added, and gave him a good scratch before she got up.

She fed him, and if she indulged him with seared tuna he deserved it.

After pulling on shorts, a support tank, she rode down to the gym. A good sweat, she decided, because in truth, seeing herself as a child, that helpless need, that helpless fear, unnerved her.

She programmed a five-mile obstacle course run, and, on a whim, on the streets of Prague. When she finished, dripping and satisfied, she spent another fifteen on resistance and power lifting before she stretched it out.

Her initial thought was to end the whole deal with a swim, but she found herself turning into the dojo.

She didn’t like meditation. In fact, it usually annoyed the crap out of her. But she decided, considering all, to give it a shot.

She programmed five minutes with the master, sat on the mat, crossed her legs.

She breathed, exhaling tension (or trying to) as instructed. She let her mantra play in her head, which was—her secret—fuck this, fuck this, fuck this.

She pictured a blank screen, normally the best she could do before her mind started wandering to a case, or paperwork, or why chocolate wasn’t one of the major food groups.

The blank screen turned a soft blue, began to ripple gently. She floated on it, just floated until the chimes sounded.

“You did well,” the master told her. “Take the calm and clear into your day.” He put his hands together at his heart, bowed. “Namaste.”

She bowed in return. “Namaste.”

When she stepped out of the elevator, Roarke walked in.

“And here’s timing,” he said.

“I went to Prague, too. Five-mile run, obstacles. You probably bought or already own some of what I ran through. Gonna grab a shower. Oh, hey.” She shoved at her hair as she walked toward the bathroom. “I meditated for, like, five minutes. Okay, probably three before I got there, but that’s two minutes and fifty seconds more than I’ve managed before.”

She hit the bathroom, called back, “And I fed the cat. Don’t let him bullshit you.”

Roarke glanced over at Galahad. “It appears the lieutenant’s back in form.”

When she came back, he sat, the stock reports muted on the wall screen, a tablet in hand and the cat across his lap. Breakfast, whatever he’d chosen, sat domed on the table.

She poured coffee, then lifted the lids to find he’d gone for the full Irish.

“You’re worried I’ll skip lunch again.”

“If you do”—he set the cat on the floor—“you’ll have a good breakfast in you.”

“I guess we’re going to see the Irish next month, right?”

He looked up, met her eyes. “I’d like to.”

“Fine with me.” She sat and started on the bacon. “That quick trip to catch Cobbe doesn’t really count. Where else?”

He rubbed a hand on her thigh. “Where would you like to go?”

“You’ve got something in mind. You always have something in mind.”

“I thought you might enjoy Greece, play tourist among the ancient sites, then there’s a villa on Corfu. Sun-washed beaches, olive groves, vineyards.”

“See, you always have something in mind. Your villa?”

He smiled. “Not yet. We’ll see how you like it.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be critical of a villa in Greece. What were you working on? On the tablet.”

“Not work. I was looking at the final design for Mavis’s studio.”

He picked up the tablet, brought it up for her.

“Seriously? It looks so…”

“Professional?”

“Yeah, it does. Sure, it’s got Mavis all over it. The colors—lots of color in that … I guess it’s a lounge or break area.”

“Energy, Mavis claims.”

“Play area for the kid, and the next one.”

“Kitchen area.” Roarke brought the view in. “Full bath, half bath, a dressing area. That for when she wants to get into costume. But the equipment, the studio proper—state-of-the-art. And she’s learned her art very well indeed.”

It shouldn’t be such a surprise, Eve admitted, to see the Mavis mix of the colorful and foolish with the absolute solid.

“Back when, I never thought she was serious, working at the Blue Squirrel. She didn’t sound serious, either. Not like now.”

“Suited her audience, got her attention. Her style’s still very much her own.”

“Hobe has a poster of her, signed, personalized, on her wall. I didn’t tell Mavis that.”

“No need, is there?”

“No. Mavis might’ve gone into Mike’s Place, it’s the kind of place she’d go for fun. Maybe even met Hobe at some point, but it doesn’t connect. So no point in telling her.”

“I’ll have a list of possible properties sometime today.”

“That’ll be good. I’m counting on the lab giving me something. Getting an early enough start I can hit there before Harvo or any of them get started on something else, so I can cut the line if I need to.”