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He ordered the aria and, as the music filled the room, sat, eyes dreamy, his memory stretching back decades, to her.

And watched the last moments of Gia Rossi’s life drain away.

13

EVE SHUFFLED INTO THE SHOWER AS ROARKE was drying off from his. Her voice was rusty when she ordered the jets on, and her eyes felt as if someone had coated a thin adhesive inside her lids during the night.

The hot blast helped, but she knew it was going to take considerably more to get all engines firing. She considered the departmentally approved energy pill, then opted to hold that in reserve. It would boost her, no question, and it would leave her feeling overwired and jumpy all day.

She’d stick with caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

When she came out, Roarke was wearing trousers. Just trousers, she noted—all bare-chested, bare-footed, with all that gorgeous black hair still a little damp from the shower.

There were other things that gave the system a good jolt, and he was certainly top of her personal list.

And when he crossed to her, offering a mug of black coffee, her love knew no bounds.

The sound she made was as much in appreciation of him as that first life-giving gulp.

“Thanks.”

“Food’s next. We didn’t quite make it through dinner, and you’re not going through the day on coffee and attitude.”

“I like my attitude.” But she went to the closet, pulled out what looked warm and comfortable. “How come you can look sexy and rested after a couple hours’ sleep, and I feel like my brain’s been used for Arena Ball practice?”

“Enormous strength of will and lucky metabolism.” He selected a shirt, slipped it on, but didn’t bother to button it. He studied her as she pulled on stone gray trousers. “I could order up an energy drink.”

“No. They always have a crappy aftertaste and make me feel like my eyes are crossing and uncrossing. Weirds me.” She pulled on a long-sleeved white tee, dragged a black sweater over it. “I’m just going to—”

She stopped, frowned at the knock on the bedroom door. “Who else in their right mind would be up at this hour?”

“Let’s find out.” Roarke walked to the door, and opened it to Mavis and Belle.

“I saw the light under the door.”

“Is something wrong with the baby?” Roarke asked. “Is she sick?”

“Bella? No, she’s trip T’s—Totally Tip-Top. Just needed her morning change and snuggle. But I peeked out, saw the light. Okay if we come in a minute?”

“Of course. I was just about to deal with breakfast. Would you like something?”

“No, just too early for me to fuel up. Well, maybe some juice. Papaya maybe?”

“Have a seat.”

“Everything okay?” Eve asked her.

“Yeah, well, you know. When Belle sent out the morning call, I just didn’t want to cuddle in. Restless.”

Mavis stood, in red-and-white–striped pajamas Summerset must have unearthed from somewhere. They were too big for her, and way too conservative.

They made her look, to Eve’s eyes, tiny and fragile.

“Everything’s fine, going to be fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I guess I just wanted to see if you were okay, and if there was something I could do.”

“It’s under control.” Since Mavis was standing, swaying gently side to side in a way that was making Eve vaguely seasick, Eve gestured to a chair in the sitting area. “Sit down.”

“I was thinking Trina and I could look over the appointment books, and maybe we could try to find the hair enhancement.” Mavis shrugged. “And Trina was telling me she thinks the guy was using one of a couple of product lines—face and body creams and lotions. I could maybe track down where they’re available, and—I don’t know. Maybe it would help.”

“Maybe it would.”

Roarke set down a tall glass of juice, some fresh fruit, and a basket of muffins. Mavis glanced at them, then up at Roarke. “If I wasn’t gone squared over my huggie bear, I’d fight Dallas for you.”

“I’d squash you like a bug,” Eve told her.

“Yeah, but you’d limp awhile after. Would it be all right if we stayed here—Belle and me—until…Leonardo’s going to be back this afternoon. I thought—”

“You can stay as long as you like,” Roarke told her as he brought