In Death 02 - Glory in Death

governor's mansion. The glittering black and gold vest skimmed her hips and was already unbuttoned to her navel.
    "I don't have to like it. How do you stand it? You live with this stuff all the time. Isn't it creepy?"
    "You just ignore it." He flipped open another button. "And go on. I liked the way you looked tonight." Idly he toyed with the diamond that hung between her breasts. "Of course, I'm enjoying the way you look right now more."
    "I'm never going to get used to it. All the fancy work. Small talk, big hair. And I don't fit the clothes, either."
    "They might not suit the lieutenant, but they suit Eve. You can be both. " He watched her pupils dilate when he spread his hands over her breasts, cupped them. "You liked the food."
    "Well, sure, but..." She shivered into a moan as he scraped his thumbs over her nipples. "I think I was trying to make a point. I should never talk to you in bed."
    "Excellent deduction." He reared up and replaced his thumbs with his teeth.
    She was sleeping deeply, dreamlessly, when he woke her. The cop surfaced first, alert and braced.
    "What?" Despite being naked, she reached for her weapon. "What is it?"
    "I'm sorry." When he leaned over the bed to kiss her, she could tell from the vibrations of his body that he was laughing.
    "It's not funny. If I'd been armed, you'd have been on your ass."
    "Lucky me."
    Absently, she shoved at Galahad who'd decided to sit on her head. "Why are you dressed? What's going on?"
    "I've had a call. I'm needed on FreeStar One."
    "The Olympus Resort. Lights, dim," she ordered and blinked to focus as they highlighted his face. God, she thought, he looked like an angel. A fallen one. A dangerous one. "Is there a problem?"
    "Apparently. Nothing that can't be handled." Roarke picked up the cat himself, stroked it, then set Galahad on the floor. "But I have to handle it personally. It may take a couple of days."
    "Oh." It was because she was groggy, she told herself, that this awful sense of deflation snuck in. "Well, I'll see you when you get back."
    He skimmed a finger over the dent in her chin. "You'll miss me."
    "Maybe. Some." It was his quick smile that defeated her. "Yes."
    "Here, put this on." He shoved a robe in her hands. "There's something I want to show you before I go."
    "You're going now?"
    "The transport's waiting. It can wait."
    "I guess I'm supposed to come down and kiss you goodbye," she muttered as she fumbled into the robe.
    "That would be nice, but first things first." He took her hand and pulled her from the platform to the elevator. "There isn't any need for you to be uncomfortable here while I'm gone."
    "Right."
    He put his hands on her shoulders as the car began to glide. "Eve, it's your home now."
    "I'm going to be busy, anyway." She felt the slight shift as the car veered to horizontal mode. "Aren't we going all the way down?"
    "Not just yet." He slipped an arm around her shoulders when the doors opened.
    It was a room she hadn't seen. Then again, she mused, there were probably dozens of rooms she'd yet to tour in the labyrinth of the building. But it took only one quick glimpse for her to realize it was hers.
    The few things she considered of any value from her apartment were here, with new pieces added to fill it out into a pleasant, workable space. Stepping away from Roarke, she wandered in.
    The floors were wood and smooth, and there was a carpet woven in slate blue and mossy green, probably from one of his factories in the East. Her desk, battered as it was, stood on the priceless wool and held her equipment.
    A frosted-glass wall separated a small kitchen area, fully equipped, that led to a terrace.
    There was more, of course. With Roarke there was always more. A communications board would allow her to call up any room in the house. The entertainment center offered music, video, a hologram screen with dozens of visualization options. A small indoor garden bloomed riotously below an arching window where dawn was breaking.
    "You can replace what you don't like," he said as she ran her hand over the soft back of a sleep chair. "Everything's been programmed for your voice and your palm print."
    "Very efficient," she said and cleared her throat. "Very nice."
    Surprised to find himself riddled with nerves, he tucked his hands in his pockets. "Your work requires your own space. I understand that. You require your own space and privacy. My office is through there, the west panel. But it locks on either side."
    "I see."
    Now he felt