"Darling Eve," he said with the easy patience he could pull out and baffle her with at the oddest times.
"Haven’t we already proven that you and I don’t have to stand on exactly the same spot on every issue? And wouldn’t it be boring if we did?"
"Maybe." Tension oozed back out of her. "I guess. I just never expected you’d take something like this and run with it."
"Then perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that if I die first, I’m planning to come back to see you naked as often as possible."
Her lips twitched, as he’d intended them to. "I’ll be old, with my tits hanging to my waist."
"You don’t have enough tit to hang that low."
She pursed her lips, looked down as if to check. "Gotta point. So are we good now?"
"We may be, if you come over here and kiss me. In payment for the insult."
She rolled her eyes. "Nothing’s free around here." But she skirted the desk, leaned down to touch her lips to his.
The moment she did, he yanked her down into his lap. She’d seen it coming - she knew him too well not to - but was in the mood to indulge him.
"If you think I’m playing bimbo secretary and horny exec - "
"There were actually a few insults," he interrupted. "And you’ve reminded me that you’re going to get old eventually. I should take advantage of your youth and vitality, and see you naked now."
"I’m not getting naked. Hey! Hey!"
"Feel you naked then," he amended, as his hands were already under her sweatshirt and on her breasts.
"Good things, small packages."
"Oh yeah? Is that what I should say about your equipment?"
"Insult upon insult." Laughing, he slid his hand around to her back to hold her more firmly in place. "You have a lot of apologizing to do."
"Then I guess I’d better get started."
She put some punch into the kiss, swinging around to straddle him. It would take some agility as well as vitality to pull off a serious apology in his desk chair, but she thought she was up to the job.
He made her feel so many things, all of them vital and immediate. The hunger, the humor, the love, the lust. She could taste his heat for her, his greed for her as his mouth ravished hers. Her own body filled with that same heat and hunger as he tugged at her clothes.
Here was his life - in this complicated woman. Not just the long, alluring length of her, but the mind and spirit inside the form. She could excite and frustrate, charm and annoy - and all there was of her somehow managed to fit against him, and make him complete.
Now she surrounded him, shifting that body, using those quick hands, then taking him inside her with a long, low purr of satisfaction. They took each other, finished each other, and then the purr was a laughing groan.
"I think that squares us," she managed.
"You may even have some credit."
For a moment, she curled in, rested her head on his shoulder. "Ghosts probably can’t screw around in a desk chair."
"Unlikely."
"It’s tough being dead."
* * *
At eight-fifteen in the morning, Eve was in her office at Central scowling at the latest sweeper and EDD reports.
"Nothing. They can’t find anything. No sign of electronic surveillance, holographic paraphernalia, audio, video. Zilch."