In Death 10 - Witness in Death

mildly surprised not to find her there, neck deep in her current case. Curiosity had him setting his own work aside and moving to the house scanner.
    "Where is Eve?"
    Eve is currently in Lounging Room Four, third level, south wing.
    "What the hell is she doing in there?"
    Would you like to engage monitor?
    "No, I'll go see for myself."
    He'd never known her to loiter in that area of the house. The fact was, he'd never known her to lounge unless he nagged, seduced, or conned her into it.
    It occurred to him it might be pleasant to have their meal there, relax together with a bottle of wine, and shake their respective days from their minds.
    He'd have to talk her into it.
    Thinking this, he walked into the room. If she'd been looking in his direction, she would have caught one of the rare moments when her husband was completely flabbergasted.
    The room was lit with dozens of white candles, and the fragrance of them waltzed with the tender perfume of dozens of silver roses. Crystal glinted, silver gleamed, and the romance of harp strings wept in the air.
    In the midst of it, Eve stood in an alarm-red dress that left her arms and shoulders bare as it skimmed down her long, slim body like an avid lover's hungry hands.
    Her face was flushed, her eyes bright with concentration, as she twisted the wire on a bottle of champagne.
    "Excuse me." He saw her lovely shoulders jerk, her only sign of surprise. "I'm looking for my wife."
    Her stomach jittered a little, but she turned, smiled. He had a face made for candlelight, she thought. For slow and simmering fires. Looking at it never failed to start one in her blood. "Hi."
    "Hello." Glancing around the room, he walked toward her. "What's all this?"
    "Dinner."
    "Dinner," he repeated, and his eyes narrowed. "What have you done? You're not hurt?"
    "No. I'm fine." Still smiling, she popped the cork, relieved when champagne didn't come spraying out.
    He frowned as she poured champagne into crystal flutes. "All right, what do you want?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "I mean I know a setup when I see one. What do you want?"
    Her smile wavered. It took a great deal of effort to keep it from turning into a snarl. Sticking to the steps she'd carefully outlined, she handed him his wine, gently tapped her glass to his. "What, I can't put together a nice dinner without ulterior motives?"
    He thought about it. "No."
    She set the bottle on the table with an ominous crack. "Look, it's dinner, okay? You don't want to eat, fine."
    "I didn't say I didn't want to eat." She was wearing perfume, he noted. And lip dye. She'd fussed with her eyes. He reached out to toy with the tear-shaped diamond pendant he'd given her. "What are you up to, Eve?"
    That tore it. "Nothing. Forget it. I don't know what came over me. Obviously, I lost my mind for a minute. No, for two sweaty, stupid hours. That's what it took to put this fiasco together. I'm going to work."
    He caught her arm before she could march past him and wasn't the least surprised to see the quick flare of violence in her eyes. But he was surprised to see hurt.
    "I don't think so."
    "You want to keep that hand, pal, you'll move it."
    "Ah, there she is. For a moment, I thought you'd been replaced by a droid. It gave me a bad start."
    "I bet you think that's funny."
    "I think I've hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry." He brushed his lips over her forehead even as he flipped desperately through his mental calendar. "Have I forgotten an occasion?"
    "No. No." She stepped back. "No," she said again, and felt ridiculous. "I just wanted to do something for you. To give you something. And you can just stop looking at me like I've fried a few circuits. You think you're the only one who can put this kind of deal together? Well, you're right. You are. I nearly stunned myself with my own weapon a half a dozen times tonight just to put myself out of my misery. Oh fuck it."
    She picked up her glass again, stalked to the wide, curved window.
    Roarke winced and began the delicate task of extracting his feet from his mouth. "It's lovely, Eve. And so are you."
    "Oh, don't start with me."
    "Eve -- "
    "Just because I don't do this kind of thing, because I don't take the time -- hell because I don't think of it, doesn't mean I don't love you. I do." She spun around, and he wouldn't have described the look on her face as particularly loving. She'd gone back to fury. "You're the one who's always doing the things, saying the words. Giving..." She fumbled a moment. "Just giving. I