Connections in Death (In Death #48)(2)

“I’ve done it about a million times already. Nadine knows a shitload—I mean, a lot of people.”

“‘Shitload’ covers it,” Eve said. And as they moved through the foyer, through the open doors, was just a little horrified to see she knew most of them herself.

How did that happen?

“Dig the dress, Dallas. The color’s like bang.”

“It’s green.”

“Jade,” Quilla qualified.

“Exactly.” Roarke sent Quilla a wink.

“So anyway, I can take the gift, too, unless you want to give it to her, like, personally. We’ve got a gift table in the morning room.”

“‘Morning room’?”

“I don’t know why it’s called that,” Quilla said to Eve. “But we’re putting the hostess gifts in there.”

“Great.” She shoved the fancy bag at Quilla.

“Chill. Okay, hope you have a kick.”

“A kick at what?” Eve wondered as Quilla headed off.

“I think it means have a good time. Which should speak to you,” Roarke added, “as you enjoy kicking things.” He trailed his fingers down her back. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“Let’s get me several.”

The passage to the bar, however, proved fraught with obstacles: people she knew. And those people had something to say, which cornered her into saying something back.

She was spared cold-sober small talk by passing waitstaff and Roarke’s quick hands.

His quick thinking and smooth moves also saved her from the chatty chat of one of Nadine’s researchers. “Darling, there’s Nadine. We need to say hello. Excuse us.”

With a hand on the small of Eve’s back, he steered her away.

Nadine stepped in from the terrace. Eve deduced the party do—lots of tumbling curls—as Trina’s handiwork. Though far from the usual polished, professional style, Eve supposed the streaky blond curls suited the dress. Strapless, short, snug, in hot tamale red.

Those cat-green eyes scanned, landed on Eve and Roarke. She met them halfway, rose to the toes of her skyscraper red heels and kissed Roarke enthusiastically.

“I’d say this proves our place is perfect for entertaining.”

“‘Our place’?”

Nadine smiled at Eve. “Well, it is Roarke’s building. A lot of your crew’s out on the terrace. It’s heated, and there’s a small bar setup, another buffet.”

Despite the fact that friendship often baffled her, Eve knew her job. “So where is it?”

Nadine fluffed her hair, batted her cat-green eyes. “Where’s what?”

“Well, if you don’t want to show it off—”

“I do. Yes, I do.” Laughing, Nadine grabbed Eve’s hand. With the skill of a running back, she snaked through people, wove around furniture, bolted up the curve of stairs and into her pretty damn swank home office. It held a couple of sofas in classy blue, chairs that picked up the classy blue in a swirly pattern on white, tables in slate gray that matched the T-shaped workstation in front of a killer view of New York City.

A square, recessed fireplace flickered in the left wall. The gold statue stood on the mantel above it. Eve moved closer, studied it. Weird-looking dickless gold dude, she thought, but the nameplate read NADINE FURST, and that’s what counted.

But if they weren’t going to give him a dick, why didn’t they give him pants?

“Nice.” Curious, she lifted, it, glanced over her shoulder. “It’s got weight. Blunt-force trauma waiting to happen.”

“Only you.” Nadine slid an arm around Eve’s waist. “I meant what I said in my acceptance speech.”

“Oh, did you say something?”

Nadine added a solid hip bump, and with a laugh, Eve set the award down again.

“It’s all yours, pal.”

“Not nearly, but—I get to look at it every freaking day. So.” Turning, she reached out a hand for Roarke’s. “Let’s go down and drink lots of champagne.”

Jake Kincade stepped into the doorway. The rock star, and Nadine’s heartthrob said, “Hey.”

His dark hair spilled and swept around a strong face currently sporting a three-day scruff. He wore black—not a suit, but black jeans with a studded belt, black shirt, and black boots Eve admired because they looked sturdy and comfortable.

How come, she wondered, he got to dress like a real person?

“How’s it going?” he said to Roarke as they shook hands. “Looking prime, Dallas. Got to gander the gold guy? He’s shiny, but you gotta wonder. If they weren’t going to suit him up, why not give him his works? One or the other.”

“Good God,” Roarke murmured.

Jake flicked him a glance. “Sorry.”

“No, not at all. It’s only, I know my wife and have no doubt she thought exactly the same.”

“Maybe. More or less. It’s a reasonable question.”

“At least Jake didn’t look at it and see a murder weapon.”

The creases in his cheeks deepening, Jake grinned down at Nadine. “Maybe. More or less. Anyway, you got another wave coming in, Lois. How does anybody know so many people?”

Now Roarke laughed, took Eve’s hand. “I’m beginning to think it’s a good thing I saw her first.”