The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [237]
“If she’s such a babe, why does she need to hire an LC?”
“I guess because Charles is a babe, and there isn’t any danger of strings. He’ll do whatever she wants during the scheduled time.” Peabody sighed as they stepped out into the garage. “People hire or hang with LCs for a lot of reasons. It isn’t always about sex.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll see what we can dig up in Sotheby’s tomorrow.” That, she thought, might be something to tap Roarke about.
“Yes, sir. Where are we going now?”
“Up to you.” Eve opened her car door, stood looking at Peabody over the roof. “Want to go get drunk?”
“Sir?”
“I had a big mess-up with Roarke not that long ago. That was my choice. It’s a pretty good temporary cure.”
Peabody’s eyes filled, not just with tears but with gratitude. “I’d rather have ice cream.”
“Yeah, most of the time, given the choice, so would I. Let’s go get some ice cream.”
Eve stared down at the hot fudge supreme in the dish in front of her with a combination of greed and nausea. She would no doubt eat it all. She would no doubt be ill after.
The things you had to do for a pal.
She dug in for the first spoonful. “Okay, spill it.”
“Sir?”
“Let’s hear what happened.”
Peabody stared, more dazzled now by Eve’s statement than by her own banana boat surprise. “You want me to tell you about it?”
“No, I don’t want you to tell me about it. I’m telling you to tell me about it because that’s how this friendship thing is supposed to work. I hear. So.” She dug for more ice cream with one hand, waved a go-ahead with the other.
“That’s so nice of you.” Peabody got misty again, and soothed herself with nondairy whipped topping. “We were in one of the maintenance closets, sort of fooling around, and—”
Mouth full, Eve held up a hand, swallowed. “Excuse me, you and Detective McNab were engaged in some sexual activity on departmental property, while on duty?”
Peabody pokered up. “I’m not going to tell you if you’re going to start citing regulations. Anyway, we hadn’t gotten to the actual sex part yet. We were fooling around.”
“Oh, well then. That’s different. Cops are always fooling around in maintenance closets. Jesus, Peabody.” She shut her eyes, shoveled in more fudge, breathed out. “Okay, I’m over it. Move on.”
“I don’t know what it is. There’s this thing, this primal sort of thing.”
“Oh. Ick.”
Maybe it was having kick-ass Dallas say “ick,” maybe it was the pained way it was said, but the response made Peabody grin and didn’t bruise her feelings a bit. “I would’ve thought so myself until we did it. The first time was in an elevator.”
“Peabody, I’m trying here. But do we have to go back that far and discuss you and McNab doing it? It puts really weird pictures in my head.”
“Well, it all sort of goes together. Anyway, it’s not like I’m thinking about sex with him all the time, or even the fooling around part, but then something happens and we’re just, you know, doing it again. So we were fooling around . . .” she continued quickly, afraid of losing her audience.
“In the maintenance closet.”
“Right, and Charles called on my ’link. About the case. I was getting the information from him and stuff, and when I was finished, McNab got really ugly.” She filled her mouth with banana and cream and gooey caramel sauce. “He yelled at me and was like, ‘What do you take me for?’ And he said nasty things about Charles, who was just doing me a favor, and in an official capacity. Then he grabbed me.”
“He got physical with you?”
“Yes. Well, no, not really. But he looked like he wanted to punch me. And you know what he said?” She wagged her spoon, heating up again. “You know what he said?”
“I wasn