Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(30)

“Your knee, darling.” She moved to attack his ear and nearly unmanned him. “It’s very effective.”

“Oh, sorry.” Snorting, she lowered her knee, lowered her body, and let him roll her over. “Forgot.”

“A likely story. You may have caused permanent damage.”

“Aw.” With a wicked grin, she tugged open his trousers. “I bet we can make it all better.”

His eyes went dark when she stroked him, stayed open and on hers when their lips met again. This kiss, surprisingly tender, twined that terrifyingly strong emotion with the easy lust.

The lower edges of the sky were as wildly red as the blossoms arching over them. The shadows were long and soft. She could hear birdsong and the whisper of air through the dying leaves. The touch of his hands on her was like a miracle, chasing away all the ugliness and pain of the world she walked in.

She didn’t even know she needed to be soothed, he thought as he stroked, and he soothed, so that arousal was slow and warm and liquid. Perhaps neither had he, until they held like this, touched like this. The romance of the air, the light, the gradual surrender of a strong woman was gloriously seductive.

He eased into her, watching her face as the first orgasm rolled through her, feeling her body clench, shudder, go pliant as his fueled it and filled it.

She kept her eyes open, as fascinated by the intensity of his stare as the silvery ripples of sensation that pumped through her. She matched his pace, silky and smooth even as her breath tore. And when she saw those dark Celtic eyes cloud, go opaque, she framed his face with her hands, pulled his mouth to hers to savor his long, long groan of release.

When his body was ranged weightily over hers, his face buried in her hair, she wrapped her arms companionably around him. “I let you seduce me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Thank you. You tolerated it all so stoically, too.”

“It’s the training. Cops have to be stoic.”

He reached out, ran a hand over the grass, and plucked up her shield. “Your badge, Lieutenant.”

She snickered, slapped him on the ass. “Get off me. You weigh a ton.”

“Keep sweet-talking me, and God knows what could happen.” Lazily, he rolled aside, noted that the sky had gone from cloudy blue to pearl gray. “I’m starving. You distracted me, and now it’s well past dinnertime.”

“It’s going to be a little more past.” She sat up and began to tug on her clothes. “You had your sex, pal. Now it’s my turn. We have to talk.”

“We could talk over dinner.” He sighed when she sent him a steely stare. “Or we could talk here. Problem?” he asked and skimmed his thumb over the dent in her chin.

“Let’s just say I have some questions.”

“I might have the answers. What are they?”

“To begin with — ” She broke off, blew out a breath. He was sitting there, mostly naked, looking very much like a sleek, well-satisfied cat. “Put some clothes on, will you? You’re going to distract me.” She tossed his shirt at him when he only grinned. “Mavis was waiting for me when I got home.”

“Oh.” He shook out his shirt, noted its deplorable condition, but slipped it on. “Why didn’t she stay?”

“She’s got a gig at the Down and Dirty. Roarke, why didn’t you tell me you own Eclectic?”

“It’s not a secret.” He hitched into his slacks, then handed her her weapon harness. “I own a number of things.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She would be patient here, Eve told herself, because it was a delicate area for everyone. “Eclectic’s offered Mavis a contract.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I know you know,” she snapped, slapping away his hand as he attempted to smooth down her hair. “Damn it, Roarke, you could have told me. I’d have been prepared when she asked me about it.”

“Asked you what? It’s a standard contract. She’ll certainly want an agent or representative to look it over, but — ”

“Did you do it for me?” she interrupted, and her eyes were focused on his face.

“Did I do what for you?”

Now her teeth went on edge. “Offer Mavis the recording contract.”

He folded his hands, cocked his head. “You’re not planning on giving up law enforcement to be a theatrical agent, are you?”

“No, of course not. I — ”

“Well then, it has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re not going to sit there and tell me you like Mavis’s music.”

“Music is a term I’m not sure applies to Mavis’s talents.”

“There.” She jabbed a finger into his chest.

“That talent, however, is — I believe — commercial. Eclectic’s purpose is to produce and distribute commercial recording artists.”

She sat back, tapped her finger on her knee. “So it’s a business thing. Straight business.”

“Naturally. I take business very seriously.”

“You could be snowing me,” she said after a moment. “You’re good enough.”

“Yes, I am.” Pleased that he was one of the very few who could snow her, he smiled at her. “Either way, the deal’s done. Is that all?”