Innocent in Death (In Death #24)(81)

“Just a droid. It seems to work so well for you when you’re pissed at me.”

“You should get your R-and-D department to come up with one that regenerates or something.” She touched her lips to them. “You should put something on them.”

“You just did. Look how tired you are,” he said, stroking her cheek. “My Eve. Worn to the bone. And I wager you didn’t eat at all today.”

“I couldn’t. Morris even had homemade brownies. Fudge brownies.”

“We’ll have some soup.”

“I’m too tired to eat.”

“All right, then. No soup, no work. Just sleep.” He slid his arm around her waist, and she slid hers around his as they started out of the room. “Will you let me back in there? Into the work?”

She’d shut him out there, she realized. They’d shut each other out here and there. Little doors closing. “Yeah. I could use some help. Questions about a security system to start.”

“I’m your man.”

She looked over at him, smiled. “Yeah, you are.”

She slid into sleep, then before dawn lightened the sky, slid into love. His mouth woke her, warm on hers. Sweet and warm and welcoming. And steeped in his taste, hers answered. His hands stirred her, so that her heart seemed to sigh. Feeling the beat of his against her, she opened.

In the utter quiet, in the soft, soothing dark, they moved together.

Comfort was sought, and found. Pledges were remade without words. And everything needed was given.

She lay, tucked in the curve of his arm. Drifting.

“I should’ve let you sleep.”

“The way I feel right now, you did just fine. Pretty damn perfect.” So perfect, she thought, she could curl there for the next millennium. “What time is it anyway?”

“Nearly six.”

“You probably have to get up.”

“I’m liking where I am at the moment.”

She smiled in the dark. “I’m starving.”

“Are you now?”

“Seriously starving. I wish I had a damn fudge brownie.”

“It isn’t fudge your system needs.”

“You want to bang again, ace, I need coffee first.”

And, he thought, We’re back . “The cat got the best part of two full Irish breakfasts yesterday. Why don’t we try that again, and eat them ourselves.”

“You didn’t eat either?”

“I didn’t, no.”

She smiled again. It was nice to know he’d suffered along with her. But she rolled, bracing on her elbows to look down at him. “Let’s eat. A lot.”

They ate in bed, sitting crosslegged, the plates between them. She shoveled in eggs as if they were going to be banned within the hour.

There was color back in her face, he noted. And those shadows, those hints of wounds behind her eyes were gone. Then she aimed them at him, and he saw there was something else in them.

“What?”

“I don’t want to screw things up, but I want to mention something that’s bugging me.”

“All right, then.”

“Red dress.”

“Fuck.”

“No, no.” She waggled her fork, determined to get through this part without a fight or an emotional crisis. “Just hear me out, okay? You said that when you first saw her she was wearing a red dress. Are you going to buy the coincidence that she was wearing a red dress when you saw her again out of the blue?”

“Well, I doubt she’s worn red all these years, in case we crossed paths again.”

“You’re not thinking. You’ve still got blinders on when it comes to her. Don’t get pissed.”

“It’s hard work not to.” Somewhat irritably, he stabbed a fried potato. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, she set it up. She didn’t just happen to be in that restaurant, at that time, in a red f**king dress, Roarke. She knew you’d be there, and wanted to give you the jolt. Remember, lover? Remember me?”

“Well, how would she know where…” He trailed off, and she saw the blinders fall away.

It took considerable strength of will—and she congratulated herself on it—not to leap up and do a dance of joy and victory on the bed.

“You said she was good, and you probably taught her more. You knew the guy she was with that night, you do business with him. Not that hard, if you want to take some time, to pin down where Roarke has a dinner reservation.”

“No, she could work that.”

“Tags you at home, early morning, then it’s lunch—give me some advice, some help for old times’ sake. I bet she was full of apologies and shame for what she did to you all those years ago.”

She paused a moment, then decided it would fester if she just didn’t say it. “And you’re not going to tell me she didn’t make a move on you. At least test the waters.”

“The waters,” he said, “were not receptive.”

“If they had been, I’d have drowned her in them already.”

“Darling, that’s so…you.”

“Keep that in mind,” she warned, and since she’d finished her bacon, stole a slice of his. “That had to chap her thighs. Then there’s the fact she’s the anti-me.”