New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

“You got something.”

“It’s running, and will continue to run—as yours will,” he said, leaning over and keying in a command, “without both of us sitting here until blood tears out of our eyes.”

“I need to cross-reference the—”

“Which the machine will do.” He simply lifted her to her feet.

“Look I’m not ready to sleep yet.”

“All right. There are other ways to rest, relax, and take a break.”

“Yeah.” She smirked. “You’d think that.”

“Sex, sex, and more sex. And you wonder why I married you.”

“You’ll just have to put that program on hold,” she said, but he pulled her through the bedroom, bypassing the bed, and into the bathroom.

He’d filled the enormous tub sunk into the floor. She could smell the fragrance of the water, something slightly floral and earthy. Soothing. He’d lit candles so the light shimmered soft, and again soothing.

“A warm bath,” he began. “Or as I know you, hot. Some quiet, and a VR program designed to relax and restore.”

As she’d taken off her jacket and weapon harness in the office, he simply lifted her shirt over her head. “Sit and we’ll deal with the boots.”

“I can undress myself.”

“There you are, denying me my small pleasures.”

So she sat on the padded stool, let him undress her. When she stepped down, then sank into the pale blue perfumed water, her sigh was long and deep.

“Okay, it’s good.”

“Jets on low,” he ordered, and now she moaned as the water pulsed against her aching muscles.

“Okay, even better.”

“Let’s shoot for best. Try the VR.”

She didn’t want virtual reality, and though it made her feel weak and stupid, she didn’t want to be alone. What she wanted was standing there watching her with far too much concern.

“You could stand to rest, relax, and take a break.”

“God, couldn’t I.”

“It’s a really big tub. You could practically do laps.”

“Then I’ll join you. One minute.”

When he left she eased back, looked up. The ceiling wasn’t mirrored—thank Jesus—but some sort of reflective material that caught the candlelight and sparked into little stars.

Nice touch.

He came back with two glasses of wine, which she eyed suspiciously.

“Only wine. My word on it.” He set the glasses on the lip to undress.

If he’d tranq’d it, he wouldn’t lie about it. So she picked one up, tried a small sip.

“Beer and a ball game.”