In Death 01 - Naked in Death

privileged, the elegant, clattering over a problem usually delegated to a low-paid, overworked office drone.
    For a moment, she let herself forget about the business at hand and smiled at him.
    "You know, Roarke, you're kind of cute."
    She realized it was the first time she'd really surprised him. His head came up, and his eyes were startled -- for perhaps two heartbeats. Then that sly smile came into them. The one that made her own pulse jitter.
    "You're going to have to do better than that, lieutenant. I've got you in."
    "No shit?" Excitement flooded through her as she whirled back to the screens. "Put it up."
    "Screens four, five, six."
    "There's his bottom line." She frowned over gross income. "It's about right, wouldn't you say -- salarywise."
    "A bit of interest and dividends from investments." Roarke scrolled pages. "A few honorariums for personal appearances and speeches. He lives close, but just within his means, according to all of the data shown."
    "Hell." She tossed back wine. "What other data is there?"
    "For a sharp woman, that's an incredibly naive question. Underground accounts," he explained. "Two sets of books is a tried and true and very traditional method of hiding illicit income."
    "If you had illicit income, why would you be stupid enough to document it?"
    "A question for the ages. But people do. Oh yes, they do. Yes," he said, answering her unspoken question as to his own bookkeeping methods. "Of course I do."
    She shot him a hard look. "I don't want to know about it."
    He only moved his shoulders. "The point being, because I do, I know how it's done. Everything's above board here, wouldn't you say?" With a few commands he had the IRS reports merged on one screen. "Now let's go down a level. Computer, Simpson, Edward T., foreign accounts."
    "No known data."
    "There's always more data," Roarke murmured, undeterred. He went back to the keyboard, and something began to hum.
    "What's that noise?"
    "It's just telling me I'm hitting a wall." Like a laborer, he flicked open the buttons at his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves. The gesture made Eve smile. "And if there's a wall, there's something behind it."
    He continued to work, one handed, and sipped his wine. When he repeated his command, the response had shifted.
    "Data protected."
    "Ah, now we've got it."
    "How can you -- "
    "Ssh," he ordered again and had Eve subsiding into impatient silence. "Computer, run numerical and alphabetical combinations for passkey."
    Pleased with the progress, he pushed back. "This will take a little time. Why don't you come here?"
    "Can you show me how you -- " She broke off, shocked, when Roarke pulled her into his lap. "Hey, this is important."
    "So's this." He took her mouth, sliding his hand up her hip to just under the curve of her breast. "It could take an hour, maybe more, to find the key." Those quick, clever hands were already moving under her sweater. "You don't like to waste time, as I recall."
    "No, I don't." It was the first time in her life she'd ever sat on anyone's lap, and the sensation wasn't at all unpleasant. She was sinking, but the next mechanical hum had her pulling back. Speechless, she stared at the bed gliding out of a panel in the side wall. "The man who has everything," she managed.
    "I will have." He hooked an arm under her legs, lifted her. "Very shortly."
    "Roarke." She had to admit, maybe just this once, she enjoyed being swept up and carried off.
    "Yes."
    "I always thought too much emphasis, in society, advertisement, entertainment, was put on sex."
    "Did you?"
    "I did." Grinning, she shifted her body, quick and agile, and overbalanced him. "I've changed my mind," she said as they tumbled onto the bed.
    She'd already learned that lovemaking could be intense, overwhelming, even dangerously exciting. She hadn't known it could be fun. It was a revelation to find that she could laugh and wrestle over the bed like a child.
    Quick, nipping kisses, ticklish groping, breathless giggles. She couldn't remember ever giggling before in her life as she pinned Roarke to the mattress.
    "Gotcha."
    "You do indeed." Delighted with her, he let her hold him down, rain kisses over his face. "Now that you have me, what are you going to do about it?"
    "Use you, of course." She bit down, none too gently, on his bottom lip. "Enjoy you." With her brows arched, she unfastened his shirt, spread it open. "You do have a terrific body." To please herself, she ran her hands over his chest. "I used to think that sort of