In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

me around, bully me into taking some tranq."
    "I wouldn't have been able to bully you into anything if you hadn't been ready to drop." He sat up as well. "Lights, ten percent." At his order the room filled with a soft glow. "You look good," he said after a moment's study of her furious -- and rested -- face. "Despite her rather extreme personal taste, Trina knows what suits you."
    The way her mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out had Roarke fighting back a roar of laughter. "You let her work on me while I was out? You sadistic, treacherous son of a bitch." She might have taken a swing at him, but she was already leaping out of bed toward the mirror.
    The relief that she looked normal, fairly much the way she looked every other morning wasn't quite enough to cut through the temper. "I ought to throw you both in a cage for this."
    "Mavis was in on it, too," he said cheerfully. She hadn't moved that quickly or easily in several days, he noted. And her eyes were free of shadows. "Oh, and Summerset."
    Now she had no choice but to sit down. She staggered back to the bed and dropped down on the edge. "Summerset." It was a horrified croak.
    "He worked on your shoulder after I ran a quick diagnostic. The muscles had flamed up. Why the hell don't you take normal steps to deal with discomfort?"
    "Summerset" was all she could say.
    "He's had medical training, as you know. He simply treated your shoulder. How does it feel?"
    Maybe it was pain free for the first time in days. Maybe her entire body felt gloriously energized and fresh. That didn't make Roarke's methods acceptable.
    She pushed off the bed, snagged the robe that was draped over a chair, and shoved her arms into the sleeves. "I'm going to kick your ass."
    "All right." He got up agreeably and found a robe for himself. "It'll be a fairer match than it was last night. You want to go at me here, or down in the gym?"
    Before the last word was out of his mouth, she sprang. She came in low. He had time to start a pivot, but not to complete it, and ended up sprawled on the bed, his wife on top of him, with her knee planted firmly, worrisomely, between his legs.
    "Ah, I'd say you're back, Lieutenant."
    "Damn right. I ought to knock your balls up to your ears, smart guy."
    "Well, at least we both got one last use of them first." He grinned and risked serious damage. Then he reached up and feathered his fingers over her cheek. And distracted her just enough to allow him to counter the move. He flipped her over and pinned her down.
    "Now, you listen." The grin was gone. "Whatever it takes is what I'll do. Whenever it's needed is when I'll do it. You don't have to like it, but you'll damn well live with it."
    He pushed off, shifting to the balls of his feet when he saw her eyes narrow with purpose. Then he let out a sigh and jammed his hands into his pockets. "Bloody hell. I love you."
    She'd been poised to spring. Those two sentences, said with equal parts frustration and weariness, arrowed straight to her heart. He stood there, his hair tousled from sleep and sex and struggle, his eyes deeply blue and filled with annoyance and love.
    Everything inside her shifted, then settled into the pattern she supposed it was fated for. "I know. I'm sorry. You were right." She tunneled her fingers through her hair, distracted enough not to see the flicker of surprise on his face. "I don't like your methods, but you were right. I was pushing too hard before I was a hundred percent. You've been telling me to recharge for days, and I didn't want to hear it."
    "Why?"
    "I was scared." It was hard to admit it, even to a man she knew she could tell every secret.
    "Scared?" He crossed to her, sat down, and took her hand in his. "Of what?"
    "That I wouldn't be able to go back, not all the way back. That I wouldn't be strong enough, or sharp enough to be back on the job. And if I couldn't..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I've got to be a cop. I have to do the job. If I can't -- I've lost myself."
    "You could have talked to me about this."
    "I wouldn't even talk to myself about it." She rubbed her fingers over her eyes, irritated that there were tears brewing behind them. "Since I went back, I've been mostly doing paperwork, court dates. This is my first homicide since I got off disability leave. If I can't handle it..."
    "You are handling it."
    "Whitney ordered me home last night -- either that or he was taking me off the case. I get here and you threaten to pour drugs down my throat."
    "Well." He