Ceremony in Death by J. D. Robb

swallowed by the fog.
    Roarke couldn’t have said why he’d given the order to go in Gaelic. It had simply come out that way. He was still pondering it when he slid in beside Eve.
    “Listen, Roarke, I can’t tap Feeney for any E-work on this. At least not until the commander loosens up. I may have to go to the family for access to Frank’s personal records, but if I do that, I’ll have to tell them something.”
    “And you’d rather not.”
    “Not yet, in any case. So how do you feel about using your… skills to access Frank’s personal unit and logs?”
    His mood lifted as he started the car, guiding it down to street level. “That depends, Lieutenant. Do I get a badge?”
    Her lips twitched into a smirk. “No. But you get to have sex with a cop.”
    “Do I get to pick the cop?” He only smiled when she punched his arm. “I’d pick you. Probably. And I suppose you want me to begin my unofficial consultation tonight.”
    “That’s the idea.”
    “All right, but I want sex first.” He tucked his tongue in his cheek as she chuckled. “How long do you think Peabody’s going to be busy? Just joking,” he said quickly, but shifted into autodrive just in case Eve got violent. “She did look quite appealing tonight though.”
    Laughing, he caught her fist in his hand, then snuck the other one up to her breast.
    “Listen, pal, you’re in deep enough without trying that. Engaging in any sexual act in a moving vehicle is in violation of inner city codes.”
    “Arrest me,” he suggested and nipped her bottom lip.
    “I might. When I’m done with you.” She wiggled free and shoved him back. “And just for that smart-ass remark about my aide, no sex until after the consult.”
    He disengaged auto, then slid her a slow, smiling glance. “Wanna bet?”
    She met that arrogant glance narrow-eyed. “Fifty credits, even odds.”
    “Done.” And he whistled his way through the iron gates that led home.

CHAPTER FOUR
    “Pay up.”
    Eve rolled over, rubbed her bare butt, and wondered if she’d have rug burns. Still vibrating from the last orgasm, she closed her eyes again. “Huh?”
    “Fifty credits.” He leaned over, gently kissed the tip of her breast. “You lost, Lieutenant.”
    Her eyes blinked open and stared into his gorgeous and very satisfied face. They were sprawled on the rug of his private room, and their clothes, as best she could recall, were scattered everywhere. Starting at the stairway where he’d trapped her against the wall and had started to… win the bet.
    “I’m naked,” she pointed out. “I don’t generally keep credits up my — “
    “I’m happy to take your IOU.” He rose, all graceful, gleaming muscles, and took a memo card from his console. “Here you are.” Handed it to her.
    She stared down at it, knowing dignity was as lost as the fifty credits. “You’re really enjoying this.”
    “Oh, more than you can possibly imagine.”
    Scowling at him, she engaged the memo. “I owe you, Roarke, fifty credits, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.” She shoved the memo at him. “Satisfied.”
    “In every possible way.” He thought, sentimentally, that he would tuck the memo away with the little gray suit button he’d kept from their very first meeting. “I love you, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in every possible way.”
    She couldn’t help it. She went soft all over. It was the way he said it, the way he looked at her that had rapid pulses beating under melting skin. “Oh, no, you don’t. That kind of thing’s how you took me for fifty.” She scrambled up before he could distract her again. “Where the hell are my pants?”
    “I haven’t the faintest idea.” He walked to a section of the wall, touched a mechanism. When the panel slid open, he drew out a robe. It was silk and thin and made her eyes narrow again.
    He was always buying her things like that, and they always seemed to find their way to various parts of the house. Conveniently.
    “That’s not working