The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [260]
He sipped his coffee, watched the flames. “You gave me my life. You did,” he insisted when Summerset made a protesting sound. “And I worked—in my fashion—to build this place. I asked you to tend it for me. You’ve never let me down. But I needed her. The one thing, the only thing that could make this place home.”
“She’s not what I’d have chosen for you.”
“Oh.” With a half-laugh, Roarke bit into the cookie. “That I know.”
“But she’s right for you. The one for you.” His smile was slow. “Despite, or maybe due to, her many flaws.”
“I imagine she thinks somewhat the same about you.”
When he heard her coming, Roarke glanced back. She’d taken off her weapon, changed her boots for skids. She took a package to the tree, placed it there with the others.
He saw the expression on her face as she scanned the piles he’d stacked. Consternation, bafflement, and a kind of resignation that amused him.
“Why do you do this?” She demanded with a wave at the gifts.
“It’s a sickness.”
“I’ll say.”
“We’re having Irish in our coffee.”
“If that means whiskey, I’ll pass. I don’t know why you want to muck up perfectly good coffee that way.”
“Just another sickness. I’ll pour you some wine.”
“I’ll get it myself. Peabody tagged me on the way home. She’s not only safe and sound in Scotland, she was half-piss-faced and insane with delight. She loves you, by the way, and me, and McNab’s bony ass—and even his cousin Sheila.” She gave Summerset a small smile. “She didn’t mention you, but I’m sure it was an oversight.”
She sat down, stretched out her legs. “That’s one present that hit the mark, big time. You clear everything you needed to clear?”
“I did,” Roarke told her. “You?”
“No, but screw it. I tried to get the lab and got a recording of ‘Jingle Bell Rock.’ Why don’t songs like that ever die? Now it’s stuck in my head.”
The cat deserted Summerset to jump into her lap, complain loudly, and knead his claws into her thighs.
“He’s trying you.” Roarke gestured with his cup. “He wants the cookies, and got nowhere with me or Summerset in that area.”
“Well, you can forget it, Fatso.” She lifted him, went nose-to-nose. “But I’ve got something for you.” She dumped him, then went to the tree, pawed around, and came up with a gift bag.
She dug out a pair of feline-sized antlers, and a toy mouse.
“He’s much too dignified to wear those, or bat about some ridiculous toy,” Summerset protested.
Eve just snorted.
“Catnip.” She held the mouse up by the tail in front of Galahad’s face. “Yeah, that’s right,” she said as Galahad reared up on his hind legs and grabbed the mouse with his front claws. “Zeus for cats.”
“And you, a duly designated officer of the law,” Roarke said, “dealing.”
“I’ve got my sources.” While the cat rolled deliriously with his new toy, Eve stuck the antlers in place. “Okay, you look really stupid, so this is only for tonight. We humans have to get our kicks somewhere.”
“Is he trying to eat it,” Roarke wondered, “or make love to it?”
“I don’t want to think that hard about it. But he’s not thinking about cookies anymore.”
She sat again, propped her feet on Roarke’s lap. And when Roarke ran an absent hand up her calf, Summerset took it as his cue.
“I’ve prepared something simple for dinner, assuming you’d enjoy having it in here. I’m having mine with some friends in the city.”
“You have friends?” nearly popped out of Eve’s mouth, but Roarke squeezed her ankle in anticipation.
“Everything is in the kitchen unit.”
“Enjoy your evening, then.”
“I will, and you, too.”
Another ankle squeeze had Eve wincing. “Um, yeah. Merry.”
When they were alone, she shoved at Roarke’s arm. “Take it easy, will you? I was going to say something.”
“I know very well what you were going to say. We’re having peace on our particular square of Earth until Boxing Day.”
“Fine, I can do it if he can. Besides, I plan to get really drunk.”
“Why don’t I help you