"I don't know. I'm still feeling my way around. And while I am, somebody's got their finger on the button."
• • •
She tried Roarke in his home office first, and got lucky. "Do me a favor," she said immediately. "Work at home today."
"For any particular reason?"
Who was to say, she thought, that the sumptuous lobby, the theaters and lounges in his midtown office building didn't make it the target?
And, if she told him that, he'd be down there in a heartbeat, doing a search and scan personally. She wouldn't risk it.
"I don't like asking, but if you could keep on that project we were dealing with last night, it would help a lot."
He studied her face. "All right. I can shift some things around. I've got an auto-search going in any case."
"Yeah, but you get things done faster when you're working them yourself."
He lifted a brow. "I believe that was very nearly a compliment."
"Don't get puffed up about it." She leaned back, tried to look casual. "Look, I'm kind of pressed right now, but can you shoot me some data here?"
"Of what kind?"
"Your properties in New York?"
Now both eyebrows winged up. "All?"
"I said I was pressed for time," she said dryly. "I don't have a decade or so to deal with this. Just the really jazzy ones. Jazzy old stuff."
"Why?"
Why? Shit. "I'm just doing a cross-check. Loose ends. Routine."
"Darling Eve." He didn't smile when he said it, and she began to drum her fingers on the desk.
"What?"
"You're lying to me."
"I am not. Jesus, ask a guy for some basic data, data which as his wife I'm entitled to, and he calls you a liar."
"Now I know you're lying. You don't give two damns about my properties, and you hate when I call you my wife."
"No, I don't. It's this certain tone you use that I object to. Forget it," she said with a shrug. "It's not important anyway."
"Which one of my properties do you believe is the target?"
She hissed out a breath. "If I knew, don't you think I'd tell you? Just send me the goddamn data, will you, and let me do my job."
"You'll have it." His eyes were as cool as his voice now. "And if you find the target, let me know. You can reach me at my midtown office."
"Roarke, damn it—"
"Do your job, Lieutenant, and I'll do mine."
Before she could swear at him again, he'd cut her off. She kicked the desk. "Stubborn, tight-assed son of a bitch." Without hesitation, she tossed procedure out the window and called Anne Malloy.
"I need an E and B team at a midtown address. Full search and scan."