Festive in Death (In Death #39)(61)

She wore what Eve supposed would be called a peignoir—white as the snowflakes—a duet of a long silky gown, cut low on very healthy br**sts, and an unbelted robe with fluffy white feathers decking the collar.

She had a heart-shaped face, all rose and cream, with a deeply bowed mouth—accented with a tiny beauty mark at the corner. Sleepy eyes in china-doll blue smiled out of a thick fringe of dark lashes.

“I’m not supposed to let just anybody in, you know? But since you’re the police . . . OH! I just love your coat. It’s so totally mag! I couldn’t carry it, but—OH! Is it real leather?”

Before Eve could respond or evade, Felicity reached out to stroke the sleeve. “OH! It is! It’s just gooshy-smooshy. I love real leather, don’t you? I wonder if they make it in red. I love red, and I could have it cut down to knee-length maybe. Where’d you get it?”

“It was a gift.”

The china-doll eyes sparkled. “I just love gifts, don’t you?”

“Can I come in and speak with you, Ms. Prinze?”

“Oh, sure, sorry. You can call me Felicity. I’m sort of thinking of dropping the last name—professionally, you know? It’s more fun, and sexier. Just one name. You know, like Roarke.”

“Huh” was the best Eve could think of.

“You know: Roarke. The abso-ult rich guy. And completely iced. He actually owns this building. I would die to meet him, wouldn’t you?”

“Well.” She decided it was best not to mention she’d just recently banged said abso-ult iced Roarke into a mutual puddle.

“Hey, sorry! You maybe want some coffee? I have a stash of real. Police probably don’t get real very much. I have a friend whose brother is a policeman back in Shipshewana. He’s a sweetheart, but they sure don’t make much money.”

“What ship?”

“Shipshewana,” Felicity said with a bubbly giggle. “Indiana. That’s where I’m from, but I’ve been in New York almost a whole year now. I just got up, so I could sure use some coffee. I’ll get us some, okay?”

“Great.”

It gave Eve a chance to think. She watched Felicity walk away—who knew an ass could move in so many directions—then took stock.

As love nests went, Eve considered it upscale. A good-sized living area with a stellar view of the river through a wall of glass. The holiday tree stood front and center, rising from floor to ceiling, topped by a white angel and covered with red and gold balls.

She suspected Copley had let Felicity have her way with the decor as it ran to bright and fussy, feathers and beads. Like a cheerful bordello, Eve decided, all plush and girlie.

She wandered, noted the dining alcove—large enough for dinner parties with a red lacquer table holding a center Santa easily three feet tall.

She moved quietly, took a quick scan of a powder room—red accents, fussy soaps, frilly towels—a room with a ballet bar, a keyboard, a wall screen, rolled yoga mats, a glass-fronted friggie stocked with bottled water. One wall held a screen, another was completely mirrored.

She took a quick glance in the master bedroom—golds and reds, more feathers and beads, a huge mirrored bed, a bureau topped with a half dozen fancy perfume bottles, a masculine chest of drawers. A chaise piled with stuffed animals and dolls.

Gauging the time, Eve slipped back into the living area just before Felicity came out carrying a red tray holding two flowery cups with a matching creamer and sugar bowl.

“I didn’t ask how you take your coffee.”

“Just black’s good.”

“Ugh! I like lots of cream and sugar.” She set the tray on a low table, sat. When she leaned over to doctor her coffee—and she did mean “lots”—Eve expected the impressive br**sts to tumble right out of the peignoir.

“So.” Felicity sat back, holding her cup with her pinkie curled out. “Are you all ready for Christmas?”

“Pretty much. Listen.” How to begin? With a standard side piece, she’d have known her approach. But bombshell or not, this one was green as grass. “You live here with John Jake Copley?”

“You know JJ!” Delight pinkened her cheeks. “Why didn’t you say so! Isn’t he a dream? He’s the sweetest man, and so good to me. I’m not really supposed to talk about him too much because, well, you know, he has to get his divorce and all.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?”

“We didn’t get into that.”

“It was so cute! I’m a dancer. I’m going to be a triple threat—that’s what my voice coach says. I’m taking lessons, and acting lessons, and more dance lessons. JJ’s paying for all of it. I’m an investment.”

She flushed prettily.

“Anyway, I just couldn’t stay in Shipshewana my whole life, could I?”

Eve got a strange picture of a pirate ship sailing through fields of corn and cows. “I don’t see how.”

“I know. Even though I miss everybody like crazy, you have to, you know, try to like fulfill your destiny. My theater teacher back home said I had real talent. A natural talent. So I came to New York. I want to work on Broadway, but it’s really hard. They can be so mean at the auditions. And I didn’t have as much money as maybe I should have. Things are really expensive here. I got a job as a waitress, but it gets really confusing. Then I got a dancing job. In one of those places, you know.”