Origin in Death (In Death 21)

"Me, too. Computer. Access registry for Brookhollow Academy and College-"

"Hey, this is my machine."

Ignoring her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Search and mark ID photos of students, staff-"

"Female spouses and offspring of staff and any female employees, female spouses, and offspring of employees."

"Very thorough," Roarke commented.

"Let's keep being thorough."

"Doing my best," he said and slid his hands under her sweatshirt.

"Not that way. I'm going to let it run for the whole time. Maybe she met Dolores at some alumni function. Computer, search for a match with- Jeez, Roarke, hold on a minute."

His hands were very busy. "What did Trina put on you this time? Let's buy a vat of it."

"I don't know. I'm losing my track. Match the generated images with the ID photo and security image on file for Nocho-Alverez, Dolores."

Multiple commands acknowledged. Working . . .

"Or she met her off-site, at the center, at the fricking salon. Hired her. Dozens of options."

"Have to start with one." Roarke turned Eve around to face him. "Your hair smells like autumn leaves."

"Dead?"

"Burnished. And you taste like ... let me see." He nibbled his way down her temple, over her cheekbone, to her mouth. "Sugar and cin­namon, warmed together." He flipped open the button of her pants as he deepened the kiss.

"Now I have to do a search of my own, see if Trina's left any sur­prises for me."

"I told her I'd twist her arms into knots if she put any temp tattoos on me this time."

He cruised his hands up, over her breasts, and her heart began to shudder.

"You know that only challenges her. Nothing here," he said as he drew her sweatshirt up, off. "Just my wife's lovely, unadorned breasts."

"Mavis's are mongo." Eve let her head fall back as his lips skimmed over her.

"Yes, I noticed."

"She had Trina paint one nipple blue and the other pink."

He lifted his head slightly. "That may be just a bit too much information. Why don't I just say I prefer yours."

Her stomach tightened, pleasurably, as he closed his mouth o hers. "You could say that. I had too much wine. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be making this so easy for you."

He flipped open the next button, and her pants slid down her hips. "Step out," he murmured.

"You're still dressed." And her head was spinning.

"Step out," he repeated, sliding those hands over her as she did.

"You're all naked and soft, and I like the idea of riding my tongue over you, top to bottom, bottom to top until you . . . Well, well. What have we?"

Her brain had gone dull on her, so she only blinked at first when she followed Roarke's gaze down her own body.

There, low on either side of her belly, were three small, sparkling red hearts, with a long silver arrow piercing through each trio. Pointing, she realized, at the goal.