“Bet you haven’t had time to rub on the breast cream either.” She turned on Roarke. “Some reason you can’t slap some on your hands before you feel her up?”
“I do try,” he said, throwing Eve to the wolves without a qualm. “She’s a difficult woman.”
“Let me see your feet,” Trina demanded, rounding the desk.
Eve Dallas, who had faced death and spit in its eye, went into full retreat. “No. My feet are fine.”
“Haven’t used the pedia-care kit, have you?” Then Trina’s eyes, with their rainbow lids and gold lashes, widened in shock. “Did you cut your hair?”
“No.” Eve grabbed it with a protective hand, nearly stumbled over the chair.
“Don’t you lie to me, girlfriend. You took the scissors to it, didn’t you?”
“No. Not exactly. Hardly at all. I had to do it. It was getting in my eyes. I barely touched it. Damn it.” She decided it was time to plant her feet. “It’s my hair.”
“It is not your hair, not once I’ve had my hands in it. Do I come down to your police station and strut around with a badge on my tit, or go out on the streets and hunt up bad guys so I can kick their ass? No! And this is what you do not do. You do not, ever in this lifetime or the next, mess with my work.”
Trina heaved a breath. “Now, I’m going down and getting my kit so I can deal with the mess you’ve made of yourself.”
“That’s nice, really, but I don’t have time for—” Eve winced as Trina fisted her hands on her hips. “That would be great. Thanks.”
When Trina strode out, Eve stepped up to Mavis, gave her a hard look, and took her wine. She downed it, then scowled at her friend and her husband. “The first one who smirks eats this glass.”
chapter twenty-one
She was up by six, and dove into the shower. She intended to round up her troops by eight, report to Whitney, then contact Karen Stowe.
She intended for Yost to hear the cage door clang behind him by noon.
“You’re looking pleased with yourself, Lieutenant,” Roarke said as he stepped under the spray behind her.
“I will be in a few hours.”
“Perhaps we can make it sooner.” He moved in, slid his hands up her body, over her breasts.
“Wanna play water games, hot shot?”
“I’ll spot you ten points to the goal,” he offered and nipped her shoulder.
“Keep your handicap.” She reached around to run a hand down his flank, then felt a hard pull in her belly as his fingers slid over and tugged her nipples. “You got that gunk on your hands?”
“Trina assures me hot water only enhances the benefits. God knows you’ve got it hot enough.”
“And I was here first, so don’t even think about changing the temp.” She breathed deep, let her system relax. “I have to admit, it feels better when you put that stuff on than when she does.”
“It’s flavored.” He turned her around, dipped his head, sucked her in. “Apricot.”
“Yeah.” Eve let her head fall back. “You definitely have the superior technique. Keep going.”
Her blood hummed, and her mind, which had been razor-sharp on wakening, clouded. Steam billowed around them, thickening the air until her lungs clogged with it.
Then his hands were on her face, and his mouth crushed to hers.
He wanted to fill her, had to fight back the urge to take quickly and sate that need that had woken with him that morning. She was wrapped around him, her mouth open and avid. Her hips moved against his, a steady invitation.
Yes, he wanted to fill her. And instead, let her fill him.
Long, slim, sleeked with wet, she aroused him. He could live on the taste of her, the sharp heat of it. And when he used his fingertips to urge her up, to nudge her over, he swallowed that heat, and the strangled cry of pleasure that rode on it.