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She sighed. “Her color was too high, her eyes were glassy. I can see it now.”

“What do you remember about him?”

“Polished, attractive. They looked right together, and he looked natural in that sort of setting. I wish I’d noticed more. Maybe Charles did.”

Eve felt the jolt in her belly, saw it in the quick jerk of her aide’s shoulders. “Charles?”

“Yes. Charles Monroe. I tried to reach him this morning, but he has his ’link on message mode only.”

“Okay.” Oh boy. “I may need to talk to you again.”

“You can reach me at the clinic all day.” She got to her feet. “I wish I was more help.”

“Everything helps.”

Eve said nothing about it as she drove. She intended to say nothing about it ever in this lifetime. But Peabody’s absolute silence broke her down.

“You okay about this?”

“I’m thinking about it. It wasn’t a job.”

“What?”

“They had this vibe going yesterday. It was a date, not a job. I’m okay with it,” she decided. “I mean, we’re just friends. It was just kind of a shock, that’s all.”

She glanced over, at the entrance to Charles’s building, when Eve pulled to the curb. Apparently, she’d better be all right with it.

He was heading to the elevator as they stepped off. “Dallas. I was just coming in to see you. I just saw—”

“I know. Let’s go inside first.”

“You know, but . . . Louise. Is she upset? I need to call her.”

Eve’s eyebrows raised as he fumbled with the keycode of his door. The unflappable Charles was definitely flapped. “Later. She’s okay.”

“Not thinking straight,” he confessed, and ran a hand absently over Peabody’s shoulder as they all stepped inside. “I spent an hour in the relaxation tank this morning. Didn’t turn on the screen until a few minutes ago. The report hit me in the face. We saw them, just last night. Him and the woman he tried to kill.”

“Tell me.”

It was almost identical to Louise’s statement, save for the interlude in the lounge. But Charles’s speculation that the man was an LC interested her.

“Why did you think that?”

“He was detached, just a little. It’s hard to explain. He was very solicitous, very smooth, but there was calculation under it. He let her make all the physical advances and let her pay the check. I was preoccupied,” he admitted, “but I noticed the way he looked after her when she went into the lounge. Calculation, again. And smugness. Just a quick impression on my end. Some LCS think of clients that way.”

“How about clients?”

“Sorry?”

“Some clients look at LCs that way.”

He studied Eve’s face, then nodded. “Yes. You’re right about that.”

She turned for the door. “Check with some of your associates for me, will you, Charles? For a client who likes classical music, pink roses, and candlelight.” She tossed a glance over her shoulder. “And poetry. You people keep client files on preferences, right?”

“If we want to stay in business, we do. I’ll ask around. Delia? Can I have a minute?”

Eve kept going. “I’ll get the elevator.”

“I know we’d penciled in dinner this evening,” he began.

“Don’t worry about it.” She found it easy to kiss his cheek. That’s what friends were for. “I like her.”

“Thanks.” He gave Peabody’s hand a squeeze. “So do I.”

Chapter 12

It usually made employees nervous when Roarke showed up unexpectedly at one of his companies. To his way of thinking, a few nerves helped keep people on their toes.

He paid well, and the working conditions that were found in all his companies, factories, subsidiaries, and offices throughout the world and its satellites were unquestionably high.

He knew what it was to be poor, and to be surrounded by the dingy, the dark, the dirty. For some—himself, for instance—those were motivators to achieve more. By whatever means possible. But for most, a stingy wage and an airless box in which to earn it fostered hopelessness, resentment. And pilfering.

He preferred a higher overhead, which tended to keep those who belonged to him comfortable, loyal, and productive.

He walked through the main level of