“If somebody doesn't call me a bitch once a day, I figure I'm not doing my job.”
“Hey. Hands off.”,
“Please. Please, please, soooo pretty. Lemme just have one little touch.”
“Peabody, isn’t it embarrassing enough you’re wearing pink cowboy boots, again, without standing here drooling on my coat?”
“I was having the surreal experience of having myself show myself around my office and bullpen.”
“Oh! My desk. I could’ve sat at my desk. I could’ve sat at your desk.”
“No.”
“It’s a vid set.”
“Even then, no.”
“EVE: I have work to do.
ROARKE: I know but it can wait. I have something to show you.
EVE: In the bedroom? She looks Roarke up and down. I've seen it. It's nice I might take time to play with it later.
ROARKE: You're to good to me.”
“I don't mind being a suspect when the corpse is a shit-for-brains fuckwit, but if I'd killed her it would've been bloody and loud. And I'd have enjoyed it too much to keep it to myself.”
“His mind’s always on something else. He’d live in a ratty cardigan, and he’s always worrying holes in the pockets of his pants. He can never seem to find his wallet or anything in the refrigerator. And just when you think he’s not paying any attention to what you’re saying or doing, he comes up with exactly the right answer or solution.”", [J.D. Robb, Celebrity In Death"“People""who expect perfection in a mate miss a lot of fun—and sweetness.", [J.D. Robb, Celebrity In Death]”
“After they left the office, Peabody shoved her hands in her pockets. "These nicknames are pissing me off."
"But you're not I'm-Too-Good-to-Pee-Body. Harris is."
"It's my damn name. And now I have to pee. It's like my bladder has to prove something."
"Pee at the bank. Consider it a deposit.”
“You’re not perfect, and that makes you just exactly right.”
“Real love’s beautiful, elusive, and mean as a snake.”
“Darling Eve!”
The Irish was a bit more ripe in the voice, and no, the eyes not as stunningly blue. But Julian Cross hit the gorgeous mark, and moved well.
In fact he moved straight to Eve, yanked her into a quick, hard kiss, with a hint of tongue.
“Hey!”
“I couldn’t help it.” The not-quite-blue-enough eyes twinkled at her. “I feel like we’re close.”
“Think that again and they’ll have to write a fat lip into your next scene.” She caught Roarke, eyes narrowed, across the room. “And possibly a broken jaw.”
“Something we’ve been working on in R and D for a while.” He crossed to her, ran his fingers over the lining himself. “It’s body armor.”
“Get out.” Her forehead creased as she examined it more closely. “It’s too thin and light. Plus it moves.”
“Trust me, it’s been thoroughly tested. Leonardo was able to take the material and fashion it into the coat. It will block a stun on full, though you’ll feel the impact. It’ll protect from a blaster, though the leather would suffer. And it will block a blade—though again, pity about the leather.”
“Seriously?” She pulled her weapon again, offered it. “Try it.”
He had to laugh even as he thought: Typical. Just typical. “I will not.”
“Not very confident in your research and development.”
“I’m not firing a stunner at my wife in our bedroom.”
“I know. And when I wake up I’m here. It’s okay; I’m okay, because I’m here. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll just feel guilty.”
“I’ll try to worry only a little so you’ll only feel a little guilty.”
“I guess that’ll have to do.” She shifted so they were nose-to-nose and heart-to-heart. “Don’t change your routine because of this. That’ll get me wired and worried. Besides, if you don’t keep up with your predawn quest for world financial domination, how are you going to keep me in coffee? If you slack off, I’ll have to find another Irish gazillion-aire with coffee bean connections.”
“Drinking doesn’t make problems go away. Just because you can’t remember them doesn’t mean they’re not there.”
“He’d tended her wounds, as she had his, and knew she healed well, healed fast. His resilient, hardheaded cop.
But there were parts inside that tough, disciplined body that remained fragile—perhaps always would. And those vulnerable places pulled at him to protect, to comfort, to do anything he could to spare her a bruise or blow.
The vulnerability undid him even as the strength brought him pride. And the whole of her brought him love beyond the measuring of it.”
“He was hitting on you, however.”
“Reflex, not targeted.”
“Agreed, which is why he lives.”
“That's perfect, isn't it? I'm sex and money; you're dead bodies. What a team we are ."
"Best to stick with our strengths.”
“Who’s a girl?”
“You’re mine.” His hands glided down her back, around and up to her breasts. “You’re my girl.”
“Sap,” she said, but in a little sigh as she gave him her lips again.
She’d never been anybody’s girl, had never wanted to be. It had always seemed a weak term to her, one of submission and vulnerability. But with him, it was sweet and foolish, and just exactly right.”
“Wear your new boots." He passed her the clothes. "They'll work well with that, and with the coat as well."
"What new boots?" Her eyebrows drew together as he took them off a shelf. "And where did they come from?"
"The boot elves, I assume."
"The boot elves are going to be pissed when they're dinged and scuffed inside a week."
"Oh, I think they're more tolerant than that."
"Those elves keep this up I'm going to need a bigger closet."
But she dressed as advised, then sat to pull on the boots while Roarke programmed breakfast for two.
They slid on like--as Peabody might say--butter. "Okay." She stood, took some strides. "They're great. Sturdy--I could definitely kick some teeth in with these."
"The elves had that as top priority.”
“Get ready to do just that.” Eve grabbed her coat.
“Oh my God.” Reo made a hum of almost sexual pleasure.
“Really?” Keeping some distance, Eve shrugged into the coat. “Seriously, sex noises over a coat?”
“It’s … delicious.”
“Don’t lick it. Once,” Eve said, knowing damn well she wouldn’t get past Reo without it. “You can touch it, but just once.”
“People who expect perfection in a mate miss a lot of fun—and sweetness.”
“What are you smiling at?” she snapped at Roarke.
“I’m a man, and I’m sitting here having coffee and cookies while two beautiful women snarl at each other. Being a man I’m required to wonder—perhaps imagine—whether there will soon be physical contact. Clothing may be ripped away. Why wouldn’t I smile?”
“Not perfect,” Eve muttered. “Shut up for five seconds,” she ordered Nadine, “before we’re in his head naked, oiled up, and rolling around on the floor.”
“And my smile grows wider.”
“There’s one more reason I opted against sleeping with Julian.”
“Okay.”
“He’s not like Roarke, but he gives the illusion of being a lot like him when he’s in the mode. So the idea of sleeping with him felt disloyal—and just, well, icky.”
Eve started to laugh it off, then realized Nadine was perfectly serious. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“All right, not completely understood, but appreciated anyway.”
“I hear he bangs like a turbohammer.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t like Roarke.”
“Oh, that was cruel. Maybe I’ll give him a spin after all.”
“Very low. It’s going to be one of the cast or crew, one of the people who worked with her, one of the people she pushed, insulted, threatened.”
“Who pushed back.” He got to his feet. “Celebrity murders,” he muttered. “They’ll probably make another goddamn vid.” At Eve’s stunned, slightly horrified expression, he smiled. “You could make book on it,” he said. “Keep me updated. And don’t be late for the media conference.”
“Shit,” Eve said when he’d gone out. “Shit. He could be right.”
“Who’d play me in this one? I mean, it’s really wild, isn’t it? Somebody playing me investigating the murder of somebody who was playing me. And then there’s—”
“Don’t. You’re giving me a headache. Get those runs done.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, give the ass-kissing a rest, Julian.” K.T. knocked back a slug of wine, then slapped her glass on the table. She actually snapped her fingers at one of the servers so he would deal with the refill. “Even your mouth ought to be tired of puckering up by now.”
“We’re having a conversation,” Julian began.
“Is that what you call it? You act like you and Marlo are the only ones in this goddamn vid, and the two people you’re trying so hard to mimic are the only ones who count. It’s insulting. So why don’t you give it a fucking rest, set up your threesome with Marlo and Dallas on your own time? Some of us are trying to eat.”
In the beat of horrified silence, Eve studied K.T. down the length of the table. “Peabody?”
“Yes, sir,” Peabody said, shoulders hunched.
“You know how I occasionally mention the possibility of kicking your ass?”
“I’d term that as regularly, but yes, sir, I do.”
“You may get the chance to watch me kick your fake ass while you sit comfortably on your own. That’s an opportunity that doesn’t come around every day.”
“I don’t give a rat’s warty ass she’s dead. It only means she’s a dead cunt.”
“That’s a strong opinion.”
“And the only kind worth having. I threatened to shove a stick up her twat and light it on fire just yesterday. Maybe the day before. I lose track as there was rarely a day that went by she didn’t make me want to strangle her with my bare hands after I’d beaten her in the face with a rusty shovel.”
“I don’t like to think of her as pretend Peabody anymore. The more we find out, the meaner and crazier she gets. It’s like it’s bad enough fake Peabody got murdered, but now fake Peabody is a dead, blackmailing asshole on top of it. It’s depressing.”
“Yeah, it’s all really too bad for you.”
“Well, it kind of is. How am I supposed to enjoy the vid now, when I’ll be thinking how behind the scenes I was trying to blackmail McNab into bed, and the whole time he’s in love with you? And that maybe there’s a vid of the two of you all naked and sexy and—”
“Stop right there before I boot.”
“Hey! Maybe there’s a vid of fake Peabody and fake Roarke all naked and sexy. That would definitely make up for it. Maybe I can get a copy.”
“There’s going to be a vid of me tearing strips off your ass then using them to wallpaper my office. I’ll make copies for everybody. Get Marlo down here. I’ll start on Julian.”
“I can’t believe I was juiced when they cast her to play me. Please-body,” Peabody muttered. “She didn’t have any respect for me at all. I wish I’d known what a crappy human being she was before she got dead. I’d have shown her a Pleasebody.”
“How long do you figure you’re going to stew over this?”
“Awhile. I’ve never worked on a vic I wished I’d punched in the face before somebody killed her. I’ve been working on my hand-to-hand.”
“Yeah. They used to bang, and people tend to blab after a bang.”
“I’ll be sure to guard my tongue.”
“It’s usually tired from all the work during the bang,” she pointed out, and made him laugh.
“True enough.”
“What? I’m not wearing clothes today?”
“Oh, if only. Today, you take a rare moment to think about clothes.”
“I think about them. They keep me from being arrested for indecent exposure. And if I have to tackle some asshole during the course of the day, it prevents him from thinking I’m a sex fiend.”
“Both excellent purposes for wardrobe. Another is presentation. You’re going to be presenting your case—and yourself—to your commander and others.”
“Which is cop work.” She may have been barefoot, but she prepared to dig in her heels. “I’m not fancying up for cop work.”
“There is, Lieutenant, considerable area between indecent exposure/ sex fiend and fancying up.”
“Fuck me sideways.”
“Thanks, but you’re just not my type.”
“You’re sure.”
“I’m sure men are my type, but if I went for women, I’d do you.”
“Her scent hit him. For a second, he could only breathe it deep into his lungs,his Fae instincts roaring that this was his family, this was his queen, this was Aelin. He would have known her even if he were blind. Even if there was another scent entwined with hers. Staggeringly powerful and ancient and—male. Interesting.”
“Fiction is a solution, the best solution, to the problem of existential solitude.”
“I've got to stop being such a snob about leather-bound books, he reminded himself. E-books do have their moments.”
“Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was. "Light! give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour.”
“Never did he once consider directing his hatred toward the hunters. Such an emotion would have destroyed him ... His subconscious knew what his min did not guess-that hating them would have consumed him, burned him up like a piece of soft coal, leaving only flakes of ash and a question mark of smoke.”
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