Concealed in Death (In Death #38)(107)

“What I put in it was for comfort, for show, or because I could. It mattered to have it, this place. My place. But I could never quite reach that feeling, until you.”

“I get that,” she realized. “It matters that you mean it, and that I get it.” She took a breath while he opened a bottle of wine. “You know how they are, the Miras. So connected, so just right. I swear if I didn’t love you, if it wasn’t for her, I’d really go for him.”

At Roarke’s laugh, she shook her head again, took the wine he offered.

“I think I could take him,” Roarke considered.

“I don’t know. He might surprise you. Anyway, it’s not like that really. There’s just . . . he’s just . . . There’s something about him that hits all my soft spots. I didn’t know I had some of them.”

“I think that’s lovely.”

“He brought me those silly gloves and that stupid hat, and put them on me like I was a kid. I ended up wearing them because he can’t button his sweater right half the time but he hunted up a cap and gloves for me because it’s cold out. He’s so kind, and they have this amazing connection between them.”

She had to take a steadying breath, amazed at how sloppy she felt about . . . all of it.

“I want that. I mean when we’ve been together like them a couple decades, I want that with us.”

“Darling Eve.” This time he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “There’s more every day.”

“It feels like it. Sometimes I don’t know how I got through not feeling it. And later, this couple. I need to talk to Mira about her. DeLonna.”

“Ah.” He sat now. “Sebastian came through. I thought he must have when you didn’t ask me to dig him up.”

“She goes by Lonna, Sebastian neglected to tell me he’d helped her change her name off the books. Lonna Moon. She and her guy own this swank little club. The Purple Moon.”

“I know it.”

“You don’t own the building, do you?”

“I don’t, but I’ve heard of the club. It has a good rep.” His hand glided gently along her thigh. Affection. Connection. “We should go.”

“We should. Yeah, we should. I’ll get into the whole thing, but what I wanted to say to you was listening to her, seeing them together, it struck close to home. She’s solid, no washout, but he worries about her because of what she went through. She has nightmares.”

Those eyes, those wild blue eyes met hers. He didn’t have to say a thing to say everything.

“Looking at them, seeing them, I could see some of us. And it was really good, what I saw. I don’t know his story, but there’s something there. Slick, he’s slick, and looks like he can and has handled himself. But they were connected.

“So.” She let out another breath. “I want to let you know if the day comes when you forget how to button-your sweater—when you start wearing those button-sweater deals—I’ll fix it.”

“Every day there’s more,” he murmured. Swamped with love, he drew her off the arm of the chair into his lap.

She curled there, utterly content.

“They still have sex. You can tell.”

Now he let out a laughing sigh. “I’d as soon not think too deeply on that.”

“Me either. I’m just saying that mixing up your socks or buttons doesn’t mean you don’t have sex.” Lifting her head, she touched her lips to his.

“You might wait to indulge yourselves,” Summerset said from the doorway, in the tone of a parent catching kids sneaking cookies before dinner. “Your guests are arriving. I’ve cleared them through the gate.”

Eve rolled her eyes as he walked away. “Indulging? You know his problem is he doesn’t have anyone bored or stupid enough to indulge with him.”

“I wouldn’t be quite so sure.”

She frowned down at Roarke, saw the knowledgeable gleam in his eyes. “Eeuuww. Don’t tell me. Seriously. Don’t. Ever. Tell me.”

She pulled herself up, and decided she really wanted that glass of wine now.

Roarke rose as well, greeting the Miras when Summerset brought them in.

“Charlotte, you look lovely.” The exchange of cheek kisses was followed by a warm handshake for Dennis. “It’s so good to see you.”

“I appreciate you making the detour,” Eve began.

“We’re just having some wine.” Roarke spoke smoothly before Eve could launch into her case notes. “What can I get you?”

“I’d love whatever you’re having. Wouldn’t you, Dennis?”

“That’d be nice.” He smiled at the tree in his dreamy way. “That’s a pretty one. It looks good in here. The whole place looks festive when you drive up. There’s nothing like Christmas.”

“Dennis loves Christmas.” Mira gave him an indulgent look as Roarke led them to a sofa near the fire. “The lights, the music, the bustle. The cookies.”

“I have a weak spot for Charlie’s snickerdoodles.”

“You bake cookies,” Eve said with a kind of wonder.

“At Christmas I do, then hide half of them or Dennis wouldn’t leave a crumb for company. Thank you,” she added when Roarke served the wine. “We’re looking forward to your party later this month. It’s always memorable.”