Witness in Death (In Death #10)(68)

In the midst of it, Eve stood in an alarm-red dress that left her arms and shoulders bare as it skimmed down her long, slim body like an avid lover's hungry hands.

Her face was flushed, her eyes bright with concentration, as she twisted the wire on a bottle of champagne.

"Excuse me." He saw her lovely shoulders jerk, her only sign of surprise. "I'm looking for my wife."

Her stomach jittered a little, but she turned, smiled. He had a face made for candlelight, she thought. For slow and simmering fires. Looking at it never failed to start one in her blood. "Hi."

"Hello." Glancing around the room, he walked toward her. "What's all this?"

"Dinner."

"Dinner," he repeated, and his eyes narrowed. "What have you done? You're not hurt?"

"No. I'm fine." Still smiling, she popped the cork, relieved when champagne didn't come spraying out.

He frowned as she poured champagne into crystal flutes. "All right, what do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I know a setup when I see one. What do you want?"

Her smile wavered. It took a great deal of effort to keep it from turning into a snarl. Sticking to the steps she'd carefully outlined, she handed him his wine, gently tapped her glass to his. "What, I can't put together a nice dinner without ulterior motives?"

He thought about it. "No."

She set the bottle on the table with an ominous crack. "Look, it's dinner, okay? You don't want to eat, fine."

"I didn't say I didn't want to eat." She was wearing perfume, he noted. And lip dye. She'd fussed with her eyes. He reached out to toy with the tear-shaped diamond pendant he'd given her. "What are you up to, Eve?"

That tore it. "Nothing. Forget it. I don't know what came over me. Obviously, I lost my mind for a minute. No, for two sweaty, stupid hours. That's what it took to put this fiasco together. I'm going to work."

He caught her arm before she could march past him and wasn't the least surprised to see the quick flare of violence in her eyes. But he was surprised to see hurt.

"I don't think so."

"You want to keep that hand, pal, you'll move it."

"Ah, there she is. For a moment, I thought you'd been replaced by a droid. It gave me a bad start."

"I bet you think that's funny."

"I think I've hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry." He brushed his lips over her forehead even as he flipped desperately through his mental calendar. "Have I forgotten an occasion?"

"No. No." She stepped back. "No," she said again, and felt ridiculous. "I just wanted to do something for you. To give you something. And you can just stop looking at me like I've fried a few circuits. You think you're the only one who can put this kind of deal together? Well, you're right. You are. I nearly stunned myself with my own weapon a half a dozen times tonight just to put myself out of my misery. Oh f**k it."

She picked up her glass again, stalked to the wide, curved window.

Roarke winced and began the delicate task of extracting his feet from his mouth. "It's lovely, Eve. And so are you."

"Oh, don't start with me."

"Eve -- "

"Just because I don't do this kind of thing, because I don't take the time -- hell because I don't think of it, doesn't mean I don't love you. I do." She spun around, and he wouldn't have described the look on her face as particularly loving. She'd gone back to fury. "You're the one who's always doing the things, saying the words. Giving..." She fumbled a moment. "Just giving. I wanted to give something back."

She was beautiful. Hurt and angry, passionate and pissed, she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. "You steal my breath," he murmured.

"I've got this whole love of a lifetime thing in my head. Murder, betrayal, rage."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind." She paused, took a deep breath. "The last couple of days people have said things that keep sticking in my brain. Would you jump in front of a maxibus for me?"

"Absolutely. They don't go very fast."

She laughed, relieving him considerably. "That's what I said. Oh hell, I messed this up. I knew I would."

"No, I took care of that." He moved to her, took her hand. "Do you love me enough to give me another chance at this?"

"Maybe."

"Darling Eve." He lifted her hand to his lips. "What you've done here means a great deal to me. You, you mean everything to me."

"See how you do that. Slick as spit."

He trailed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. "I like the dress."

It was a good thing, she thought, he hadn't seen her frozen panic when she'd opened her closet. "I thought it would work."

"It does. Very well." He picked up her glass, then his own. "Let's try this again. Thank you."

"Yeah, well, I'd say it was nothing, but that would be a big, fat lie. Just tell me this one thing. Why do you have a million plates?"

"I'm sure that's an exaggeration."

"Not by much."