In Death 05 - Ceremony in Death

contract."
    "Yes, I know."
    "I know you know," she snapped, slapping away his hand as he attempted to smooth down her hair. "Damn it, Roarke, you could have told me. I'd have been prepared when she asked me about it."
    "Asked you what? It's a standard contract. She'll certainly want an agent or representative to look it over, but -- ''
    "Did you do it for me?" she interrupted, and her eyes were focused on his face.
    "Did I do what for you?"
    Now her teeth went on edge. "Offer Mavis the recording contract."
    He folded his hands, cocked his head. "You're not planning on giving up law enforcement to be a theatrical agent, are you?"
    "No, of course not. I -- ''
    "Well then, it has nothing to do with you."
    "You're not going to sit there and tell me you like Mavis's music."
    "Music is a term I'm not sure applies to Mavis's talents."
    "There." She jabbed a finger into his chest.
    "That talent, however, is -- I believe -- commercial. Eclectic's purpose is to produce and distribute commercial recording artists."
    She sat back, tapped her finger on her knee. "So it's a business thing. Straight business."
    "Naturally. I take business very seriously."
    "You could be snowing me," she said after a moment. "You're good enough."
    "Yes, I am." Pleased that he was one of the very few who could snow her, he smiled at her. "Either way, the deal's done. Is that all?"
    "No." She hissed out a breath, then leaned forward and kissed him. "Thanks, either way."
    "You're welcome."
    "Next, I have to hit The Athame tonight, check a guy out." She saw the flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw. "I'd like you to go with me." She had to bite her tongue to keep from snickering when he narrowed those eyes at her.
    "Just like that? It's police business, but you're not going to make an issue out of it?''
    "No, first because I think you might be helpful, and second because it saves time. We'd argue about it, and you'd just go, anyway. This way, I ask you to come and you go, understanding I'm in charge."
    "Clever of you." He took her hand and drew her to her feet. "Agreed. But after dinner. I missed lunch."
    "One more thing. Why did you have a Celtic symbol of protection carved into my wedding ring?"
    He felt the jolt of surprise, covered it smoothly. "Excuse me?"
    "No, you weren't quick enough that time." It pleased her that she'd spotted that minute and masterfully covered awareness. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. One of our friendly neighborhood witches tagged it today."
    "I see." Caught, he realized, and he stalled by lifting her hand to examine the ring. "It's an appealing design."
    "Don't bullshit me, Roarke. I'm a professional." She stepped in until their eyes were level again. "You buy into it, don't you? You actually buy all this hocus-pocus."
    "It's not a matter of that." He fumbled and knew it when she furrowed her brow.
    "You're embarrassed." Her brow cleared in surprise and amusement. "You're never embarrassed. By anything. This is weird. And kind of sweet."
    "I'm not embarrassed." Mortified, he decided, but not embarrassed. "I'm simply... not entirely comfortable explaining myself. I love you," he said and stilled her muffled chuckle. "You risk your life, a life that's essential to me, just by being who you are. This..." He brushed his thumb over her wedding band. "Is a small and very personal shield."
    "That's lovely, Roarke. Really. But you don't really believe all that magic nonsense."
    His gaze lifted, and as twilight turned to night, his eyes glinted in the dark. Like a wolf's, she thought.
    And it was a wolf, she remembered, she was to trust.
    "Your world is relatively small, Eve. You couldn't call it sheltered, but it's limited. You haven't seen a giant's dance, or felt the power of the ancient stones. You haven't run your hand over the Ogham carving in the trunk of a tree petrified by time or heard the sounds that whisper through the mist that coats sacred ground."
    Baffled, she shook her head. "It's, what, an Irish thing?"
    "If you like, though it's certainly not limited to a single race or culture. You are grounded." He ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders. "Almost brutal in your focus and your honesty. And I've lived, let's say, a flexible life. I need you, and I'll use whatever comes to hand to keep you safe." He lifted the ring to his lips. "Let's just call it covering the bases."
    "Okay." This was a new aspect of him it would take time to explore. "But you don't have, like, a secret room where you dance