The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [378]
“No. Really not. But you’ve got a really nice place here.”
“We love it, thanks. My partner and I.”
“How is Liv?” Roarke asked her.
“She’s great. She’s pregnant,” Adrian told Eve. “Thirty-two weeks.”
“Congratulations.”
“We’re over the moon about it. She was just so tired today, so I made her go home at noon. She’ll hate knowing she missed you. Both of you. What can I help you with? Something special?”
“For me? No. No. I’m good. More than.”
“That one.” Roarke gestured to the waterlike gown. “But we’ll get to that after. Eve?”
“Oh, yeah. Well. I have this thing, and the word is this kind of stuff would work for it.”
Adrian narrowed her eyes—serenely blue—in thought. “A thing, but not for you. You need a gift.”
“Yes.” Thank God. “Yes, I need a gift.”
“The occasion?”
“Like pulling teeth, isn’t it?” Roarke commented.
“Shut up.” Eve blew out a breath. “Okay. It’s a shower thing. Bridal shower thing.”
“Oh, yes, we’ll find just the thing. What’s your relationship with the bride? I mean,” she added, correctly assuming Eve was about to panic again. “Is she a good friend, a relative, an acquaintance?”
“A friend.”
“Eve’s standing up for her at the wedding,” Roarke put in.
“A very good friend then. Tell me about her. What she looks like to start.”
“She’s blonde.”
Roarke sighed. “Describe the subject, Lieutenant.”
“Right.” That she could do. “Caucasian female, early thirties, blonde and gray. About five-five, approximately one-fifteen. Slim build, even features.”
“All right then.” Pleased, Adrian gave a decisive nod. “Would you say she’s traditional, edgy, artistic, flamboyant—”
“Classic.”
“Excellent. Now then.” Adrian tapped a finger to her lips as she strolled around the shop. “What does she do?”
“She’s a doctor.”
“Is this her first marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Is she madly in love?”
“I guess. Sure. Why else?”
“She may have bought something for her wedding night already. But . . . as her matron of honor, that’s where I’d advise you to aim. Classic. Romantic.” Adrian opened the door of a tall, narrow cupboard. “Like this.”
It was a long sheer robe open over a long shimmering gown. Not quite gray, Eve mused, not really silver. But the color of . . . moonlight, she decided. “That could work.”
“Silk, with satin accents at the bodice, the straps. And the back—” Adrian turned it to display the low back with its wisps of crisscrossing satin. “I love the back.”
“Yeah, that could work,” Eve repeated.
“I wish you had a picture of her. It’s an important gift. It should be perfect.”
“You want a picture?” Puzzled, but game, Eve pulled out her PPC. She ordered a standard run on Louise Dimatto, then turned the screen around to Adrian to display the photo ID. “That’s Louise.”
“Oh, that’s mag! Isn’t she pretty? Can you bring it over here? If I can just scan it—the photo?”
“Well—”
“You’ll like this,” Roarke said, and took Eve’s arm to lead her through the open doorway. As Adrian stationed herself at a computer, Roarke took Eve’s PPC, made some adjustment, and printed out Louise’s photo. “Use this.”
“Perfect. We’re the only intimate apparel shop in the city to have this system. Which we would never have been able to afford without Roarke’s backing. I scan her photo, and input the data you gave me on her height and weight. Now let’s add the Latecht boudoir ensemble—Moonlight Elegance. And have a look.”
The computer sent out a beam over the small table, and the beam sent out a swirl of light dots. The light dots shifted, connected.
“A miniholo,” Eve murmured.
“In a sense, yes. It takes the data and reconstructs. And . . . There. What do you think?”
Eve bent down for an eye-level study as the hologram of Louise circled inches off the table in the moonlight gown. “I’ve gotta say, that is seriously iced. It’s really close. Maybe she doesn’t have quite that much—” Eve wiggled her fingers in front of her own breasts.
“More delicate there?” Adrian made a slight adjustment.
“Okay, yeah. Very frosty. If I had one of these