J. Robb - Innocent In Death

She wondered if he’d gone horseback riding with Magdelana. She wondered how many timeshe’d ridden Magdelana.

Goddamn it.

She turned in the bedroom doorway, pushed him back against the jamb and pressed her lips to his in an avid, energetic kiss. “Or that’s good,” she said, and took a quick bite of his lower lip, “as second place on the thrill-o-meter.”

“Second place, is it?”

“Well, psychos are pretty damn thrilling.”

“I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?” He reversed their positions quickly, had his mouth on hers, his hands under her sweatshirt. “Wouldn’t want my wife seeking out homicidal maniacs just for a bit of a rush, would I?”

“All in a day’s work. But…” She boosted herself up, wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’ve clocked out.”

Their mouths met again, hot and seeking. Then she took hers on a crazed journey of his face, his throat. The taste, his taste-it was everything she craved. He was everything.

She kept her legs locked around him when he lowered her to the bed, wound her arms around his neck. “Tell me you want me.”

“Always. Endlessly.”

“Show me.”

Desire. She could feel it in him. In his hands, in the way they moved over her, in what they took, in what they gave. She could taste it on his lips, that heat.

And still it wasn’t enough. She knew only that she needed more.

For the first time since they’d come together, she wasn’t sure what that more was. She only knew there was a small, cold place inside her that hadn’t been there before. She needed it warmed, she needed it filled.

Desperate, she rolled with him, dragging at his sweater, digging her fingers into flesh and muscle. “Touch me,” she demanded. “Touch me. Touch me.”

Her urgency surprised him. Aroused him. So he feasted on her skin, used his hands to take her over. She moaned his name, a sound of both pleasure and plea. And still she quaked, quivered with needs not yet met.

“Eve.” He lay a hand on her cheek, wanting to see her eyes, to see into them. “Look at me.”

She did what he asked, struggling to let herself fall away. Just fall away. “Inside me. I want you inside me.”

She rose up, not in offer but demand, and guided him to her.

Linked, as only they could be, she told herself. Their rhythm, their heat, their scent. She watched him watch her until her vision blurred. Until there was only speed and movement, the building-frantic and wild-toward that final, sharp-edged release.

When she lay curled against him, her skin dewed from passion, there was still that small, cold place inside her where the heat hadn’t quite reached.

In the morning, he was up and out of bed before she was. But he wasn’t in the sitting area, drinking coffee while he watched the financial reports on screen.

She readied for the day, keenly missing the routine-the conversation, sharing breakfast. Why wasn’t he there, telling her she was wearing the wrong jacket with the wrong pants?

And the night before? Why hadn’t he pushed himself into her work? Why wasn’t he here, right now, nagging her to eat something?

She strapped on her weapon harness with an irritated jerk. It was just fine. He was busy, so was she. She didn’t need or want the man in her pocket every hour of the day.

She strode to her office to retrieve files, though she’d already copied them to her unit at Central. She turned casually toward his office door, had taken only one step when she heard his voice.

“No, I was up. Yes, old habits die hard.”

On the ’link, Eve realized, and since there was only his voice, he had it on privacy mode.

“It was, yes, quite a surprise. I would, of course. I’m sure we do. Why don’t we say one o’clock then, at Sisters Three. I think you’ll like it. Shall I send a car for you? No, Maggie, it’s no trouble. I’ll see you then.”

Maggie, Eve thought as her stomach sank. Not Magdelana, who was glamorous and just a little distant. But Maggie, who was warm and affectionate.

She stepped into the doorway and saw she’d done the nearly impossible and caught him off guard. Still, she couldn’t read him in that instant when he stared off into some thought or memory that wasn’t hers to share. Then his attention, along with a distracted smile, was on her.

“There you are.”

“Yeah, here I am. At your desk early.”

“I had a ’link conference with London at six our time.” Behind him the laser fax signaled an incoming he ignored. “I was about to head back and talk you into breakfast.”

“Full of meal plans today. Lunch?”

“Sorry? Oh, yes. Apparently Magdelana remembered I’m an early riser.” He slipped the date book he had on his desk into his pocket as he got to his feet. “We’ll have lunch.”

“So I heard. You’re going to want to be careful there, pal.”

“Of what?”

“It wouldn’t be the first old friend you’ve had come around hoping you’d dip back into the game for old times’ sake. You might want to remind her you’re sleeping with a cop these days.”

Irritation, faint as a whisper, passed over his face. “I’ve no intention of dabbling in old habits.”

“Old habits die hard, didn’t you say?”

Now a hint of ice came into his eyes, into his voice. “Eavesdropping now, Lieutenant?”

“I was standing in my office. Your door was open. I have ears.”

“Then use them to hear this. I’m having lunch, nothing more or less.” His head angled slightly while those wild blue eyes narrowed speculatively on her face. “Or don’t you trust me?”

“I’d trust you a hell of a lot more if you didn’t refer to her as an oldfriend when we both know she was a hell of a lot more.”

“What she was is nearly a dozen years in the past. Years before I ever set eyes on you.” Now simple bafflement joined the irritation and the ice. “Christ Jesus, are you jealous of a woman I haven’t spoken to, seen, or thought of in years?”

Eve only looked at him for one long moment. “You’re thinking of her now,” she said, and walked away.

She jogged down the steps, and there was Summerset, Roarke’s majordomo, his guardian, his man of all work. And the chronic pain in her ass. He stood, tall and thin in unrelieved black, his pewter hair swept back into wings, and cool disdain in his dark eyes.

She only grabbed the coat, which was draped over the newel post. “If you say a word to me, just one fucking word, I’ll yank that stick out of your ass and beat you bloody with it.”

She strode toward the door, then spun around. “And tell yourkeeper if I were the jealous type I’d have beatenhim bloody two years ago. Goddamn it.”

Summerset arched his brows, speculated, then glanced up as Roarke came to the top of the stairs.

“The lieutenant seems more abrasive than usual this morning,” Summerset commented.

“She’s having a mood.” Hands in his pockets, Roarke frowned at the front door. A damned uncharacteristic mood, he thought. “Magdelana’s in town. We’re having lunch today. Apparently, Eve doesn’t like it.”

He met Summerset’s eyes and the expression in them had the temper he’d barely gotten back under control straining again. “Don’t start on me. I’ve had enough drama for one day, and it’s not even eight in the bloody morning.”

“Why would you complicate your life?”

“I’m not. I’m having fucking lunch. Leave it be,” Roarke warned before walking away.

The snow at the curbs had gone to dirty gray, and slick patches of ice were booby traps on the sidewalks and people glides. Half-frozen commuters stood bundled to the eyes waiting at maxibus stations. On the corners, glide-cart vendors had their grills smoking as much for personal warmth as business.