In Death 22 - Memory in Death

but”
    “Of course, it is. If you need four more, go get four more from the poinsettia factory. Otherwise work with what you’ve got. And you, over there with the lights.”
    Roarke rocked back and forth on his heels and watched her rip through the various crews. Some of
    them looked a little shaky when she’d finished, but the pace of work increased considerably.
    “There.” She walked back to him, folded her arms. “Handled. Any problems?”
    “Other than being strangely aroused, not a one. I think you’ve put the fear of God into them and should reward yourself with a little break.” He draped an arm over her shoulders. “Come on. We’ll find you a truffle.”
    “The chocolate kind.”
    “Naturally.”
    * * *
    Hours later, or so it seemed to her, she stepped out of the bathroom. She’d done the best she could with the lip dye and the eye gunk. On the bed, waiting for her, was what looked like a long panel of dull gold. She figured it became a dress of some kind once it was on a body.
    At least it wasn’t fussy, she decided as she fingered the material. There were shoes of the same tone, if you could call a couple of skinny straps with an even skinnier heel shoes. She glanced at the dresser and
    saw he’d thought of the rest. A black case was open, and the diamonds nothing sparkled like that but diamonds, she assumed, though they looked to be the color of champagneformed a circle against the velvet. Another held the dangle of earrings, and still another a thick bracelet.
    She picked up the panel of gold fabric, studied it, and concluded it was one of those deals you just wiggled into. Once that was done, she carried the shoes, which weren’t going on her feet until zero
    hour, and fumbled her way through the accessories at the dresser.
    The bracelet was too big, she noted. She’d probably lose it, then someone would pawn it and have enough money to buy a nice little island country in the South Pacific.
    “You’re wearing it wrong,” Roarke told her from the doorway. “Here.” He stepped in, walked to her, elegant in formal black. He slid the glittering triple band to just above her elbow. “A bit of a warrior
    touch, suits you.”
    He stepped back. “You look like a flame. A long golden flame on a cold night.”
    When he gazed at her like that, things started melting inside her, so she turned away, studied herself
    in the mirror. The dress was a column, sleek and fluid from just over her breasts to her ankles.
    “Is this dress going to stay up?”
    “Until the guests leave, at any rate.” He leaned over to brush his lips over her bare shoulder. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist so they studied the image they made in the glass.
    “Our second Christmas together,” he said. “We’ve stored up a few things in the memory box Mavis and Leonardo gave us last year.”
    “Yeah.” She smiled at him, and had to admit the two of them looked pretty damn terrific. “We have. Maybe things’ll stay quiet this year, so we can make more instead of running around after a deranged Santa.”
    “We can hope.” The bedroom ‘link beeped twice. “Our first guests are arriving. Shoes?”
    “Yeah, yeah.” She bent down to tug on one, narrowed her eyes at the sparkle on the strap. “Oh, my Jesus, don’t tell me these are fricking diamonds on my shoes.”
    “All right, I won’t tell you. Hustle up, there, Lieutenant. The hosts can’t be fashionably late.”
    Diamonds on her shoes. He was a crazy man.
    * * *
    The crazy man threw a hell of a partyshe had to give him credit. Within the hour, the ballroom was crowded with people. Lights sparkled tike wine, and the music streamed through. The tables were loaded with a good deal more than pig truffles. Fancy canapes, pates, mousse, glossy delicacies from around the world, and beyond it.
    The waitstaff was every bit as elegant as the champagne they served on silver trays. She didn’t bother to count the poinsettias, but the tree looked fine to her. In fact, it looked amazing, as did the pines that dripped more light, more color. The forest she’d seen that afternoon had become a wonderland.
    Yeah, the guy threw a hell of a party.
    “This is so totally juiced!” Mavis Freestone rushed up, leading with her very pregnant belly. At her velocity she bumped into Eve before Eve could avoid contact. “Nobody throws a splash like you guys.”
    Her hair was silver tonight, in a lot of long, shaggy layers. She wore red, so snug Eve wondered that the