Rapture in Death (In Death #4)(50)

He managed to shut his mouth, but it wasn’t easy. Slowly he reached over to disengage the monitor. “Eve — “

“Really, it would be great. Leonardo has a terrific design for your costume.”

“For my — ” Thoroughly shaken, Roarke got to his feet. “You want me to wear a costume and sing a duet with Mavis? In public?”

“It would mean so much to her. Just think of the press we could get.”

“Press.” Now he blanched. “Christ Jesus, Eve.”

“It’s really a sexy number.” Testing them both, she walked over, began to toy with the buttons of his shirt as she looked hopefully up into his eyes. “It could put her right over the top.”

“Eve, I’m fond of her, really I am. I just don’t think — “

“You’re so important.” She trailed her finger down the center of his chest “So influential. And so… gorgeous.”

It was just a little too thick. He narrowed his eyes, caught the laughter in hers. “You’re putting me on.”

Her laughter burst out. “You bought it. Oh, you should have seen your face.” She pressed a hand to her belly, yelping when he yanked her ear. “I would have talked you into it.”

“I don’t think so.” Not at all sure of himself, he turned away, started to reach for his coffee again.

“I could have. You’d have done it if I’d played it right.” All but doubled over with laughter, she threw her arms around him, hugged herself to his back. “Oh, I love you.”

He went very still as emotion delivered a hard, bruising punch to his heart. Shaken, he turned, gripped her arms.

“What?” The laughter died out of her face. He looked stunned, and his eyes were dark and fierce. “What is it?”

“You never say it.” Swamped, he dragged her close and buried his face in her hair. “You never say it,” he repeated.

She could do nothing but hold on, rocked by the emotions pulsing from him. Where had this come from? she wondered. Where had he hidden it? “Yes, I do. Sure I do.”

“Not like that.” He hadn’t known how much he’d needed to hear her say it, just like that. “Not without prompting. Without thinking about it first.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again. It was true, and it was foolish, cowardly. “I’m sorry. It’s hard for me. I do love you,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it scares me because you’re the first. And the only.”

He held her there until he was sure he could speak, then eased her back, looked into her eyes. “You’ve changed my life. Become my life.” He touched his lips to hers, let the kiss deepen slowly, silkily. “I need you.”

She linked her arms around his neck, pressed close. “Show me. Now.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Eve started off to work humming. Her body felt soft and strong, her mind rested. She took it as an omen when her vehicle purred to life on the first attempt, and the temperature control hung at a pleasant seventy-two degrees.

She felt ready to face her commander and convince him she had a case to pursue.

Then she got to Fifth and Forty-seventh and hit the jam. Street traffic was stopped, air traffic was circling like vultures, and no one was paying any heed to the noise pollution laws. The horns, shouts, curses, catcalls screamed out and echoed. The minute she stopped, her temperature control gleefully pumped up to ninety-five.

Eve slammed out of her car and joined the melee.

The glide-cart hawkers were taking advantage of the moment, slipping and sliding through the pack and doing a monster business on frozen fruit sticks and coffee. She didn’t bother to flash her badge and remind any of them they weren’t allowed the vend off the curbs. Instead, she snagged a vendor, bought a tube of Pepsi, and asked what the hell was going on.

“Free-Agers.” Eyes shifting for more customers, he slid her credits into his safe slot. “Protest on conspicuous consumption. Hundreds of ‘em, stretched across Fifth like a pretty ribbon. Singing. Want a wheat muffin to go with that? Fresh.”

“No.”

“Gonna be here awhile,” he warned and stepped onto his cart to glide through standing traffic.

“Son of a bitch.” Eve scanned the scene. She was blocked in on all sides by furious commuters. Her ears were ringing and heat was pumping out of her car like a furnace.

She slammed back in, beat on the control panel with her fist, and managed to knock the temperature down to a brisk sixty. Overhead, a tourist blimp trundled by, full of gawkers.

With no faith whatsoever in her vehicle, Eve rammed it into vertical lift and hit her official warning siren. The siren wheezed on, no match for the cacophony of noise, but she managed a shaky lift. Her wheels missed the roof of the car in front of her by at least an inch as her vehicle coughed and choked its way into the air.

“Next stop, recycling heap. I swear it,” she muttered and she punched at her communicator. “Peabody, what the f**k is going on here?”

“Sir.” Peabody popped on screen, eyes bland, mouth sober. “I believe you’ve encountered the jam incited by the protest on Fifth.”

“That wasn’t scheduled. I know damn well it wasn’t on the boards for this morning. They can’t have a permit.”

“Free-Agers don’t believe in permits, sir.” She cleared her throat when Eve snarled. “I believe if you head west, you’ll have better luck on Seventh. Traffic is heavy there, but it’s moving. If you check your dash monitor — “