Memory in Death (In Death 22)

“Almost at what they consider full-term. Um, what’s that? Can I have some of that?” She snatched three canapes off a passing tray, popped them like candy. “So when, you know, we’re there, we’re going to have sex day and night. Orgasms can kick you into labor. My teddy bear can sure do orgasm.”

Leonardo’s wide, copper-hued face went red along the cheekbones.

“So, you’re set for the classes, right?”

Eve just couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t think about the coaching classes she and Roarke were scheduled to take. “Hey, there’s Peabody. I think she’s got a truffle.”

“Truffle? Chocolate? Where? Later.”

“There’s my clever girl,” Roarke murmured. “Saving us by baiting your best friend with food. The Miras have just arrived,” he added.

Before Eve could comment, he was steering her toward them.

It was going to be awkward, she knew. It had been awkward between her and Mira since the two of them had knocked heads and sensibilities over the Icove case.

They’d both worked to keep it smooth, but there were still ripples. And Eve could feel them now as Mira glanced over and spotted her.

“We were held up.” Mira kissed Roarke’s cheek, smiled at Eve.

“Not literally, I hope,” Roarke said as he shook Dennis’s hand.

“Misplaced my tie.” Dennis patted it. It was Christmas red with a pattern of little green Christmas trees running over it.

“Actually, I hid it.” Mira slanted a look at her husband. “And was found out.”

“I like it.” Something about Dennis Mira with his dreamy eyes and mussy hair went straight to Eve’s soft spot. “Festive.”

“And look at you.” Dennis took her hands, pulled back, wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “Glamorous.”

“His idea.” Eve tipped her head toward Roarke. “I’m ditching the shoes first chance.”

“You look wonderful, both of you. And everything looks amazing.” Mira, lovely as always in midnight blue, glanced around the ballroom. She’d done something with her hair, Eve noted. Little sparkly things glinted against the rich sable sweep.

“Let’s get you a drink.” Even as he spoke, a waiter magically appeared at Roarke’s elbow. He lifted a glass of champagne from it for Mira. “Champagne, Dennis? Or can I offer you something stronger?”

“Stronger? Wouldn’t say no.”

“Come with me. I have something a little special. Ladies.”

That was on purpose, Eve thought, and her neck tensed. Small talk was bad enough, and she only had a limited supply. But in the strained small-talk department, she was all but empty.

She fell back on the cliche. “So, I guess you’re all ready for the holidays.”

“Just about. You?”

“I don’t know. I think. Listen, the food’s—”

“Actually, I have something for you. I didn’t bring it because I hoped you might be able to find a little time, come by the house tomorrow. For coffee.”

“I…”

“I badly want to be friends again.” Mira’s eyes, a quiet blue, went misty. “I miss you. I miss you very much.”

“Don’t. We’re friends.” Or something more complicated, Eve thought, that was tangled in friendship. “I have something I have to do tomorrow, but after… I think I might want to talk about it. I think I might need to talk about it. After.”

“Something serious.” Mira touched a hand to Eve’s arm, and the tension was gone. “I’ll be home all day.”

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