Witness in Death

The room was lit with dozens of white candles, and the fragrance of them waltzed with the tender perfume of dozens of silver roses. Crystal glinted, silver gleamed, and the romance of harp strings wept in the air.

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?"

"Di

"Di

"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 di

He thought about it. "No."

She set the bottle on the table with an ominous crack. "Look, it's di

"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 For a moment, I thought you'd been replaced by a droid.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 fu

"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 stu

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."

"Well, you never know who might be coming to di

"Including the entire population of New Zealand." She sipped champagne. "Now, I'm behind schedule."

"Have we a schedule?"

"Yeah. You know, drinks, di

"I like the end goal. Since I came close to spoiling things, the least I can do now is cooperate." He started to pick up the bottle, but she laid a hand on his arm.

"Dance with me." She slid her hands up his chest, linked them behind his neck. "Close. And slow."

His arms came around her. His body swayed with hers. And his blood leapt with love, with lust, as her mouth brushed silkily over his.

"I love the taste of you." Her voice was husky now, soft. "It always makes me want more."

"Have more."

But when he attempted to deepen the kiss, she turned her head, skimmed those heated lips along his jaw. "Slow," she said again. "The way I'm going to make love with you." She nibbled her way to his ear. "So that it's almost torture."

She threaded her fingers through his hair, all that gorgeous black, fisted them, drew his head back until their eyes met. His were deep and blue and already hot.

"I want you to say my name when I take you." She teased his mouth with hers again, retreated, felt his body tighten like a bow against hers. "Say it so that I know nothing exists for you but me at that moment. Nothing exists for me but you. You're all there is."

Her mouth took his now, a frantic mating of lips, teeth, tongues. She felt his moan start low, start deep, then merge with her own. She let herself tremble, let herself ache, then pulled back, pulled away a breath before surrender.

"Eve."

She heard the strain in his voice, enjoyed it as she picked up their glasses again. "Thirsty?"

"No." He started to reach for her, but she shifted away, thrust out his glass. "I am. Have a drink. I want to go to your head."

"You do. Let me have you."

"I will. After I've had you." She picked up a small remote, pressed a series of buttons. On the side wall, panels opened. The bed that had been tucked behind them was heaped with pillows. "That's where I want you. Eventually."

She took a long sip of champagne, watching him over the rim. "You're not drinking."

"You're killing me."

Delighted, she laughed, and the sound was like smoke. "It's going to get worse."

Now he did drink, then set his glass aside. "Praise God."

She walked back to him, slipped his jacket from his shoulders. "I love your body," she murmured, slowly working open the buttons of his shirt. "I'm going to spend a lot of time enjoying it tonight."