J.D. Robb - Visions In Death

Released her weapon harness and tossed it on the sofa.

Yanked off boots by hopping one-footed toward the bathroom, and had her shirt off when she heard the water running.

Damn, he'd beaten her home after all.

She peeled off the rest. "Turn that water temp up." "Done. I adjusted when I heard the graceful patter of your delicate feet stomping about in the bedroom." Knowing Roarke wasn't above being hysterically amused by having her scream after jumping into cold water, she stuck her hand in the spray first.

"Trusting soul," he said and grabbing her hand hauled her in. "Let's stay home and make hot, wet love in the shower." "Forget it." She elbowed him aside, pumped soap into her hand. "We're going to dinner. We're going to sit around somebody else's house and make stupid conversation and eat food we don't even get to pick for ourselves and pretend not to wonder exactly where in the apartment McNab and Charles punched each other out." "I can hardly wait." He pumped shampoo and began to lather it into her hair.

"What are you doing?" "Saving you time. What have you done here?" She hunched her shoulders. "Nothing." "You have. You've been whacking at your hair again." "It was in my eyes." "Back here?" He tugged. "Fascinating. Does the NYPSD know they have a cop with eyes in the back of her head? Has the CIA been notified?"

"I can do this myself." She pulled back, scrubbed vigorously at her hair while glaring at him. "Don't tell Trina." He smiled, wolfishly. "And what would my silence be worth to you?" "You want a quick hand job?" "See, you're being deliberately crude to put me off." He tapped her chin. "Oddly enough, it doesn't work." "She'll know anyway," Eve muttered, and stuck her head under the jets. "She'll know, the next time she gets her hands on me. And she'll make me pay. She'll pour goo all over me, and lecture, and paint my nipples blue or something." "What an interesting picture that creates in my fevered brain." "I don't know why I did it." She jumped out and into the drying tube. "I couldn't help myself." Tell it to the judge," Roarke advised.

They weren't very late, Peabody thought. And when you had two cops two currently overworked, sleep-deprived cops being on time wasn't even in the realm.

Besides, she'd wanted to take as much time as she could squeeze out to make sure she looked her best. Since McNab had given her a big, "Oh, baby!" she figured she'd pulled it off.

He looked pretty adorable himself. His hair was all shiny and slick, and his cute little butt was nice and snug against the seat of black pants saved from being too conservative by the fluorescent silver stripe running down each leg.

She had her hostess gift a clutch of fairly fresh tiger lilies she'd snagged from a vender near her subway stop and they'd been cleared through the lobby to the elevator.

"Now, you're going to play nice, right?" "Of course I'm going to play nice." He fiddled with the collar of his silver shirt and wondered if he should've added a tie. Give Monroe a run for his sophisticated money. "Why wouldn't I?" She rolled her eyes at him as they stepped into the elevator.

"Then. Now. Then you were sleeping with him, and I was drunk and pissed off. Now you're not and neither am I. Drunk and pissed off," he qualified.

She ordered Charles's floor, fluffed at her hair, and wished she'd had time to curl it, just for a change. "Neither was I." "What did you have to be drunk and pissed off about?" he asked.

"Sleeping with him. You sure my ass doesn't look fat in these pants?" "What?" "My ass." She craned her head around to try to see for herself. "It feels like it looks fat." "What do you mean you weren't sleeping with him? After Louise? You mean after Louise." "I mean ever. There ought to be a mirror in here so I could check my fat ass." "Your ass isn't fat, and shut up. You were going around with him for months." She gave the flowers she carried a little sniff. "You sleep with everybody you go around with?" "Pretty much. Now just a damn minute." "We're going to be late," she said as she stepped off the elevator and into the hall.

"We're going to be later. You telling me you never boinked the LC? Ever?" "Charles and I were, are, friends. That's it." McNab grabbed her arm, hauled her back a step. "You let me think you were boinking him." "No, you let you think I was." She poked a finger into his chest. "And made an ass of yourself, which is a pretty short walk, really."

"You -he-" He paced down the hall and back again.

"Why?" "Because we were friends, and because I was boinking you, moron." "But we broke up because…" "Because, instead of asking what was going on, you accused and you ordered, and took that short walk to Assville." "And you tell me now, a minute before we walk in his door." "Yeah." "That's cold, Peabody." "Yeah." She patted his cheek. "I wait for payback, and I deliver. You were a jerk coming over here toasted and punching him, but I like that part. Which is why I was magnanimous enough to forgive you for sleeping with the twins." "I didn't." He tapped a finger on her nose. "Gotcha." "You didn't?" "I was going to, and I could have because we were on the breakup shuttle. But I didn't want the twins." "You bragged about it." "Hey, I've got a dick. Man's got a dick, he's gotta have pride in it." "You are a dick," she said, but with a sloppy grin. "Now I forgive you for thinking I was bouncing back and forth between you and Charles like some sex bunny." "She-body, you're my little sex bunny." "Aw." She flung her arms around him to exchange the sloppy grin for a big, sloppy kiss.

The elevator doors opened behind them. "Oh God! There goes my appetite." "Dallas." Peabody sent a dreamy look over McNab's shoulder. "We're making up."

"Next time make up in a dark, locked room. McNab, your hands are in violation of several civil codes." "Whoops." Still, he gave Peabody's butt a final squeeze.

"You start on the transit discs?" "Eve." Roarke laid a hand on her shoulder, aimed her toward Charles's apartment. "Let's at least try to make it through the door before you grill the detectives. Peabody, you look charming." "Thanks. This is going to be fun." They answered together, Charles Monroe, the urbane LC, and Louise Dimatto, the blue-blooded doctor dedicated to the downtrodden. Eve had to admit, they looked good together. He with his handsome vid king looks, and she with her polished-gold beauty.

It didn't mean she didn't consider it one of the oddest couplings of her acquaintance, but they looked good together.

"Everyone at once." Louise laughed and reached for Eve, the closest. "Come in. It's so good to see everybody when none of us is working." She kissed Eve's cheek, then made a fuss over the flowers Peabody offered.

"Lieutenant Sugar." Charles went for the hello kiss as well, but he aimed for the mouth. There was a twinkle in his eye shot in McNab's direction, as he gave Peabody the same greeting.

It was going to be, Eve decided, a really weird evening.

The wine Roarke brought was welcomed, and opened.

Conversation, Eve realized after ten minutes, wasn't stilted or sparse. Everyone appeared to be in a party mood. She'd just have to tuck the case into another area of the brain and get into the personal game for a few hours.

There was Louise, looking happy and picture pretty perched on the arm of Charles's chair, and wearing the casual gear of a dark pink sweater and black pants. Bare feet with pink toenails. And to Eve's considerable surprise, a little gold toe ring.

Charles kept touching her in that absent and intimate way a man touched a woman who was his focus. A brush on the arm, a stroke on the knee.

Didn't she wonder about the women who paid him to touch them and a hell of a lot more? Apparently not, Eve decided, by the gooey looks they sent each other every five minutes.

And there were McNab and Peabody, snuggled together on the cushy leather couch laughing and talking without any sign of awkwardness. Just one big happy family.