In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

about you running scans."
    He flicked a glance in her direction. "It was implied. What was her name?"
    "It was not implied. Sarabeth -- one word, no h -- Greenbalm." She walked over to stand with him behind the console. "I was simply running through my thoughts out loud. The address is 23B West One Hundred and Twelve."
    "Got it. What do you want first?"
    "I can run her 'link in the morning. Go with either personal or financial."
    "Financial would take you longer, let's start with that."
    "No showing off," Eve warned, then laughed when he snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her against his side.
    "Of course I'm going to show off. Subject, Sarabeth Greenbalm," he began, then nuzzled at Eve's throat. "Residing West One Hundred and Twelve." His hand slid up to cup her breast. "All financial records, latest transactions first."
    Working...
    "Now," he murmured, and turned Eve until their bodies meshed. "I should just have enough time to..." His mouth swooped down, drawing deeply from hers and sending the top of her head spinning somewhere near the lofty ceiling.
    Data complete.
    "Well." He nipped her bottom lip. "Maybe not quite enough time. Your data, Lieutenant."
    She cleared her throat, exhaled. "You're good." Exhaled again. "I mean you're really good."
    "I know." And because she was just a bit off balance yet, he sat, pulling her until she tumbled into his lap.
    "Hey, I'm working here."
    "Me, too." Swiveling her to face front, he began to nibble at the back of her neck. "I'll work on this, you work on that."
    "I can't while you're..." She hunched her shoulders, stifled a chuckle, and tried to concentrate on the data on screen. "Rent's her biggest expense, followed by clothes. She's got most of them marked costume for taxes. Stop it!" She slapped at the clever fingers that had already unbuttoned her blouse to the navel.
    "You don't need your shirt to read data," he said reasonably and began sliding it off her shoulders.
    "Look, pal, I'm still wearing my clutch piece, so -- " She sprang to her feet, making him mutter an oath. "Shit, shit. There it is. Son of a bitch. There's the link."
    Resigned, he tucked away thoughts of seducing her and turned his attention to the screen. "Where?"
    "There. Three thousand to Personally Yours by electronic transaction, six weeks ago."
    Her eyes were hot now, not with passion but power, as she swung around to face him. "She and Hawley used the same dating service. That's not a coincidence. That's a connection. I need her matches," she murmured, then catching Roarke's inquiring look, she shook her head. "No, we'll do it the right way. By the book. I'll go in tomorrow and get them."
    "It wouldn't take me long to access."
    "It's not legal." She struggled to keep her face stern when that grin of his beamed at her. "And it's not your job. But I appreciate it."
    "How much?"
    She stepped back, stood between his legs, and looked down at him. "Enough to let you finish taking care of me." She sat, straddling him. "After I take care of you, that is."
    "How about..." He fisted a hand in her hair and brought her mouth within a breath of his, "we take care of each other?"
    "That's a deal."

CHAPTER FIVE
    Settled in her home office with weak winter sunlight dribbling through the window wall at her back, Eve organized her data. She intended to feed a report to her commander by mid-morning and had several blanks she wanted to fill in first.
    "Computer engage. Detail data on dating service enterprise known as Personally Yours located on Fifth Avenue in New York."
    Working... Personally Yours, established 2052 in Fifth Avenue location, owned and operated by Rudy and Piper Hoffman.
    "Stop, confirm. Business in question is owned by Rudy and Piper Hoffman?"
    Affirmative. Rudy and Piper Hoffman, fraternal twins, age twenty-eight. Residence 500 Fifth Avenue. Continue scan on Personally Yours?
    "No, search and report, full data on owners."
    Searching...
    While her computer juggled its chips, she rose to get a cup of coffee. Fraternal twins, she thought as the AutoChef filled her request. Brother and sister. She'd tagged them as lovers. And now, thinking back, remembering the way they'd touched, moved together, the looks exchanged, she wondered if both she and the computer were right.
    It was a thought that didn't sit well in her gut.
    A movement in the adjoining doorway caught the corner of her eye an instant before Roarke stepped into full view.
    "Good morning. You're up and about early."
    "I want to get