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It made him chuckle to think of it.

The sweetheart couldn’t keep a secret if she stapled her lips together. He’d known about the party for weeks, and was looking forward to the evening with the glee of a child.

Naturally he would act surprised and had practiced stunned expressions in his mirror only that morning.

So Walter went through his daily routine with a smile at the corners of his mouth—having no idea just how surprised he was going to be.

Eve doubted she’d ever felt better in her life. Rested, recharged, limber and loose, she prepared for her first day back on the job after a wonderfully undemanding two-week vacation where the peskiest task facing her had been whether to eat or sleep.

One week at the villa in Mexico, the second on a private island. And in both spots there had been no lack of opportunities for sun, sex, and snoozing.

Roarke had been right again. They’d needed the time together. Away. They’d both needed a period of healing. And if the way she felt this morning was any indication, they’d done the job.

She stood in front of her closet, frowning at the jungle of clothes she’d acquired since her marriage. She didn’t think her confusion was due to the fact that she’d spent most of the last fourteen days naked or near to it. Unless she was very much mistaken, the man had managed to sneak more clothes in on her.

She yanked out a long blue gown in some material that managed to sizzle and sparkle at the same time. “Have I ever seen this before?”

“It’s your closet.” In the sitting area of their bedroom, Roarke scanned the stock reports on the wall screen while he enjoyed a second cup of coffee. But he glanced over. “If you’re planning to wear that today, the criminal element in the city’s going to be very impressed.”

“There’s more stuff in here than there was two weeks ago.”

“Really? I wonder how that happened.”

“You have to stop buying me clothes.”

He reached over to stroke Galahad, but the cat turned his nose in the air. He’d been sulking since their return the night before. “Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.” She muttered it as she dived inside to find something reasonable to wear.

He only smiled at her, watching as she hunted up a sleeveless top and trousers to slip over that long, lean body he never quite stopped craving.

She’d tanned herself to a pale gold, and the sun had teased out blonde streaks in her short brown hair. She dressed quickly, economically, with the air of a woman who never thought about fashion. Which was why, he supposed, he could never resist heaping fashion on her.

She’d rested during their time away, he thought. He’d seen, hour by hour, day by day, the clouds of fatigue and worry lift away from her. There was a light in her whiskey-colored eyes now, a healthy glow in her narrow, fine-boned face.

And when she strapped on her weapon harness, there was a set to her mouth—that wide and generous mouth—that told him Lieutenant Eve Dallas was back. And ready to kick some ass.

“What is it about an armed woman that arouses me?”

She shot him a look, reached in the closet for a light jacket. “Cut it out. I’m not going to be late my first day back because you’ve got some residual horniness.”

Oh yes, he thought, rising. She was back. “Darling Eve.” He managed, barely, not to wince. “Not that jacket.”

“What?” She paused in the act of shoving her arm in a sleeve. “It’s summer weight; it covers my weapon.”

“It’s wrong with those trousers.” He stepped to her closet, reached in, and plucked out another jacket of the same weight and material as the khaki trousers. “This one is correct.”

“I’m not planning on doing a video shoot.” But she changed it because it was easier than arguing.

“Here.” After another dip into her closet, he came out with a pair of half-boots in rich chestnut brown leather.

“Where’d those come from?”

“The closet fairy.”

She frowned at the boots suspiciously, poked a finger into the toes. “I don’t need new boots. My old ones are all broken in.”

“That’s a polite term for what they are. Try these.