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His grin was quick and wicked. “Guess.”

She dropped into a chair and filled him in.

He picked up the cat as she spoke, sat stroking Galahad, watching her. He knew she was doing more than bringing him up to speed. She was refining, checking for holes, firming up the operation as she talked it through. They both knew no matter how meticulously planned the operation, it only took one variable to upset the balance.

“Some men,” he said when she’d finished, “lesser men, might object to having their wife picnic in the park with another man.”

“I’ll bring you back some potato salad.”

“That’s my girl. You said Feeney will pick his man inside the surveillance vehicle. I believe he could be persuaded to select an expert consultant, civilian.”

The circle her mind was taking came to an abrupt halt, then backtracked. “This is an NYPSD op, and there’s no need for you to be there. You’ve got your own work.”

“I do, yes, but I so enjoy watching you do yours.” He gave the cat’s ears a scratch with those long, clever fingers that had Galahad purring in pleasure. “Why don’t we let Feeney decide?”

“No bribery.”

His eyebrows shot up in amazement. “Really, Lieutenant, you wound me. If I were easily offended, I might not tell you I’ve separated, cross-filed, and indexed your data.”

“Yeah? You’re pretty handy to have around. Let’s have a look.” She got up to walk around to his side of the console. He tapped a single key, then setting the cat down, tugged her onto his lap.

“No funny stuff,” she ordered.

“Who’s laughing?” He nipped her earlobe. “You see on-screen three of those project personnel with male children who would now be between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. That gives you twenty-eight hits. Adding male siblings and grandchildren, secondary dependents in that same age bracket garners another fifteen.”

“So that’s, what, forty-three possibles. That’s workable.”

“However . . .” He kissed the nape of her neck. “Refining and recalculating using those personnel who were reprimanded, cited, terminated or named in civil suits, we decrease those possibles to eighteen. I assumed you’d want to start with them. Screen four.”

“Keep this up, the chief’s going to offer you a permanent position on the force.”

“Now you’re trying to scare me, but I’m too strong for that.”

“Knock out the overthirties. I’m betting he’s younger than that.”

He nuzzled her neck and did it manually. “Down to eight.”

“Yeah. We start with them. Computer, run background check, all data, on individuals listed on screen four.”

WORKING . . .

“It’ll take a minute,” Roarke told her and worked his way from neck to jaw.

“You’re not authorized to attempt to seduce the primary investigator at this time.”

“I’ve vast experience in breaking the law.” He found her mouth, sank in.

“Wow. They always look so hot.”

Mavis Freestone stood in the doorway in four-inch platform boots that rode up to her crotch in shiny, eyewatering pink. Her hair, tinted to match, seemed to burst out of her head in an explosive topknot. With it, she wore a skimmer in dizzying swirls of pink and blue that fluttered down to meet the top of the boots.

She beamed smiles set off by sparkling face studs fixed to the corners of her mouth.

Beside her Trina, her own hair in a foot-high ebony mountain, snorted. “If this is part of the fringe bennies on cop work, I want a badge.”

Eve’s fingers dug reflexively into Roarke’s arm. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, don’t leave me.”

“Be strong. Good evening, ladies.”

“Leonardo’s bopping over later. He had stuff. Summerset said to come right up.” Mavis danced into the room. “We gave thumb’s-up to snacks. We’ve got all kinds of goodies to try out on you, Dallas. This is so ultra mag.”

Eve’s stomach turned. “Whoopee.”

“Where do you want me to set up?” Trina asked and was already studying Eve in a way that made the kick-ass cop want to whimper like a baby.

“In my office. This is an official consult, not a personal treatment.”

“Whatever.” Trina blew an enormous purple bubble, snapped the gum back. “Show me what you want to look