Fantasy in Death - J. D. Robb [99]
Cautious, Eve turned to the mirror.
Her hair lay sleek against her head instead of tousled, and whatever Trina had plastered on it to get it sleek brought out the lighter shades so it looked just a little streaky. She ran a hand over it, relieved when it felt like her regular hair.
Her eyes looked bigger—but that was all the crap Trina had smudged on. Her cheekbones looked a little sharper, her lips more defined.
“Still you under there,” she murmured. “It’s just a kind of illusion. Or ... a costume.”
“I trust she didn’t knock you unconscious to ...” Roarke paused in the doorway, then stepped in for a closer study. “She is very good at her work. It’s a different look for you, but lovely and a bit elegant. Very suitable for the occasion. Here, I thought you’d need this after your ordeal.”
He handed her a glass of champagne.
“I guess I’m now worthy of superior man-flesh.”
“I feel so objectified,” he said as she took the first sip.
“You ate it up with a spoon.” She took another sip, and a long look when he laughed. “But you do look pretty superior. And since you’re already dressed I’d better get my skinny ass moving.”
“I adore your skinny ass.” He gestured toward the bed when they went out. “If you don’t care for the dress we’ll find another.”
She would have called it yellow, but it wasn’t accurate. It was deeper, richer than yellow. Not brown, not that deep, but something that blended both into the tawny. It had light, she mused. Not sparkle or shine, just light. No fuss, no flounce—to her relief—just a column as sleek as her hair, and at a touch of her finger, as fluid as water.
“I’d be stupid not to care for it. I’m not stupid. And I’m also smart enough to know I’m lucky you think about things like this so I don’t have to.”
“I enjoy it; you don’t. Leonardo does exceptional work, and he knows your body, your style, and your preferences.”
She couldn’t argue with that, especially after she’d put it on. The material simply slid down, light as air, leaving her shoulders bare and giving her breasts a bit more of a boost than she thought they deserved.
But the hidden pockets in the side seams distracted and pleased her. She could easily tuck her clutch piece in one, her badge in the other.
What else did a woman need?
“You’ll want these.” Roarke handed her earrings—canary diamonds in long teardrops—and a cuff that married yellow diamonds with white. She added the necklace herself, the Giant’s Tear diamond he’d given her the day he’d told her he loved her.
“You’re beautiful.”
Sparkly, she thought, shimmery, and a little sleek. A costume, she thought again. Everyone wore them.
“It’s hard not to look good with all this. What color is this thing?” She brushed a hand down the dress. “I can’t figure it.”
“It should be easy for you, as you look at it every day.” He stepped behind her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “It’s your eyes.” He laid his cheek against hers for a moment while she frowned. “We’d better be off or we’ll be more than fashionably late.”
“Why is late fashionable?”
“I suppose because it gives the impression you have so many things to do you couldn’t possibly be on time.”
“Hah. Who knew? I’m almost always fashionable.” She held out her hand. “Come on, man-flesh. We’ve got to rock.”
Music rang from the rooftop and into the deepening skies. People glittered and gleamed and glided, bussing each other’s cheeks, chattering happily over bubbling wine. Candles, already lighted, flickered. The wind was picking up, Eve noted.
They were likely to get that storm before it was done.
“They’re going to want to close the dome before long,” Eve said to Roarke.
“We might as well enjoy the night air while we can. You’ll want to congratulate Nadine.”
“She’s surrounded.” And Trina had been right. Nadine looked abso fab in siren red, her hair artfully tumbled and scattered with sparkling pins that caught the last light of the sun. “I’ll wait until she’s got some breathing room.”
“You’re here!” Peabody, her hand caught in McNab’s, hurried over on the famous shoes. They were silver, opened at the