Rapture in Death by J. D. Robb

Reeanna rose. “I hope you’ll give us a rain check. We’ll be on planet for the next month or two, and I’d so love the opportunity to get to know you, Eve. Roarke and I go back… a long way.”
    “You’re welcome any time. And I’ll see you both in the office tomorrow, for a full report.”
    “Bright and early.” Reeanna set her glass aside. “Perhaps we can have lunch someday soon, Eve. Just females.” Her eyes twinkled with such easy humor that Eve felt foolish. “We can compare notes on Roarke.”
    The invitation was too friendly to give offense. Eve found herself smiling. “That should be interesting.” She walked them to the door with Roarke, waved them off. “Just how many notes,” she said as she stepped back, “would there be to compare?”
    “It was a long time ago.” He snagged her by the waist for a delayed welcome-home kiss. “Years. Eons.”
    “She probably bought that body.”
    “I’d have to term it an excellent investment.”
    Eve lifted her chin to eye him sourly. “Is there any beautiful woman who hasn’t bounced on your bed?”
    Roarke cocked his head, narrowed his eyes in consideration. “No.” He laughed when she took a swing at him. “You didn’t mean that, or you’d have hit me.” Then he grunted when her fist plowed into his gut. He rubbed it, grateful she’d pulled the punch. “I should have quit while I was ahead.”
    “Let that be a lesson to you, lover boy.” But Eve let him sweep her off her feet and over his shoulder.
    “Hungry?” he asked her.
    “Starving.”
    “Me, too.” He started up the stairs. “Let’s eat in bed.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    Eve awoke with the cat stretched over her chest and the bedside ‘link beeping. Dawn was just breaking. The light through the sky window was thin and gray from the storm rolling in with morning. With her eyes half closed, she reached out to answer.
    “Block video,” she ordered, clearing sleep from her voice. “Dallas.”
    “Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Suspicious death, Five oh oh two Madison Avenue, Unit Thirty-eight hundred. See resident Foxx, Arthur. Code four.”
    “Dispatch, received. Contact Peabody, Officer Delia, to assist. My authorization.”
    “Confirmed. Transmission terminated.”
    “Code four?” Roarke had shifted the cat and was sitting up in bed, lazily stroking Galahad into feline ecstasy.
    “It means I have time for a shower and coffee.” Eve didn’t spot a robe handy, so she walked toward the bathroom naked. “There’s a uniform on the scene,” she called out. She stepped into the shower unit, rubbing her gritty eyes. “Full power all jets, one hundred two degrees.”
    “You’ll boil.”
    “I like to boil.” She let out an enormous sigh of pleasure as pulsing jets of steamy water battered her from all sides. Tapping a glass block, she dispensed a palm full of dark green liquid soap. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she was awake.
    Her brow lifted as she saw Roarke standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. “For me?”
    “Part of the service.”
    “Thanks.” She took the cup into the drying tube, sipping while warm air swirled around her. “What were you doing, watching me shower?”
    “I like to watch you. Something about long, lean women when they’re wet and naked.” He stepped into the shower himself and called for sixty-eight degrees.
    It made Eve shiver. She couldn’t understand why a man with all the luxuries in the world at his fingertips would actually choose cold showers. She opened the drying tube and combed her fingers through her unstyled cap of hair. She used some of the face glop that Mavis was always pushing at her, brushed her teeth.
    “You don’t have to get up because I am.”
    “I’m up,” Roarke said simply and chose a heated towel rather than the drying tube. “Do you have time for breakfast?”
    Eve watched his reflection in the mirror: gleaming hair, gleaming skin. “I’ll catch something later.”
    He hooked the towel