Nadine walked over, gave Eve a hard, completely unexpected hug. “I love them,” she murmured in Eve’s ear. “I love them all, and want to marry them.”
“How mu
ch have you had to drink?”
“Just the right amount. God, they’re so much fun! You’re a lucky woman, Dallas.”
“I’m feeling pretty lucky.”
“I’m having the best time.” Easing back, Nadine plucked up her glass of champagne, lifted it in toast. “And I’m getting an exclusive with you and Roarke together, on Now.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, but I am.” Fun and affection danced in Nadine’s crafty green eyes. “I’m going to get you drunk enough to agree before we have the pie.”
“Good luck with that.”
“I’m feeling pretty lucky, too. Oh, Morris is going to play the sax. I want to marry him when he plays the sax.”
One of the uncles sang with the wrenching melody, and half the room shed tears. Eve thought they liked it.
Mavis bounced up to give her a squeeze, then Charles. Everybody seemed to need to hug.
“I got that name and contact for you,” Charles told her. “It turns out you didn’t need it.”
“I’m glad I didn’t.”
She started to step back. She really needed to take her weapon harness off, secure it upstairs. But she glanced down to see Sean and Nixie staring up at her.
“What?”
“You got the bad guy,” Sean stated.
“Yeah, we got him.”
“Did you zap him a good one first?”
Violent little bugger, she thought. She liked that about him. “No. I just knocked him down. Twice.”
“That’s something then.”
“He killed people,” Nixie said.
“That’s right.”
“Now he won’t anymore.”
“No, he won’t.”
She nodded, smiled. “I have your surprise.”
“Yeah? Hand it over.”
She ran to Elizabeth, got a slim rectangle wrapped in gold paper.
Gifts were always weird to her, so Eve ripped the paper off—like a bandage from a wound—to get it done fast. And looked down at a framed drawing of herself.
She stood, eyes hard, weapon drawn, coat billowing. A little reminiscent, she thought, of an illustration in one of Roarke’s classic graphic novels—and just as frosty.