Page 41 of Calculated in Death

“How about you?”

“Food?” He couldn’t recall she’d ever asked that question of him.“I had an actual breakfast, then lunch in the exec dining room where I talked to entirely too many people for entirely too long. It quite spoiled my appetite.”

“Is there a problem? Should I hock some of the zillion pieces of jewelry you’ve given me?”

“I think we can muddle through. No problem.” But he circled his neck under the spray. “Just a few people who needed to be reminded of their priorities, and who pays them.”

“Were you Scary Roarke?”

He smiled, flipped a finger down the dent in her chin. “I may have been. In any case, it’s done, and shouldn’t have to be repeated anytime soon.”

“You got to kick ass today. I didn’t. That would’ve been good. But I did intimidate a really rich idiot, so that’s something.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Probably. Candida Mobsley.”

“Ah yes. She is an idiot. Is she involved?”

“I don’t think so. She’s too much of a moron to have planned any of this, and if she’d paid to have it done, she’d have bollocksed it up when I was grilling her.”

He smiled at her use of his slang. “I suspect you’re right about that.”

“Anyway, I’ve got a whole list of firms—why do they mostly always have three names—I want to run by you. Just for an opinion if you know them.”

She stepped out, into the drying tube while he cut the water temperature by ten degrees and sighed at the reprieve.

Back in the bedroom, she put on comfortable clothes and frowned at the cat.

“He fucking curled his lip at me.” Thoroughly insulted, she turned to Roarke. “How does a cat curl his lip? Get over it, fatso,” she ordered. “I ditched the pants. I showered. It’s over.”

“He’s annoyed, Summerset tells me, as you were around another cat.”

“It wasn’t a cat. It was a goddamn panther.”

“You were at the zoo?”

“The rich idiot has a white panther cub to go with her white penthouse, which made me snow-blind. Everything’s white, except her assistant wore black. I figure so she can find him in that snowstorm she lives in. And I need to check and make sure she’s got the proper license for that panther. What kind of idiot keeps a jungle cat as a pet?”

“She would, if someone told her it was fashionable or rebellious.”

Eve narrowed her eyes. “Did you do that moron?”

Roarke shook his head. “That’s a very crass term considering our personal welcome home. No, I didn’t do, bang, nail, or bounce on that particular moron.”

“Because?”

“Moron would or certainly should be self-explanatory. Add she’s not, in any way, my type. Booze, illegals, stupidity, reckless behavior, and spoiled right down to the marrow.”

“Good to know. How about Alva Moonie?”

“While not a moron, no, I’ve not done, banged, etc., Alva Moonie. Is she involved as more than a witness?”

“No. No, not that I can see, or feel. I liked her. She said I met her before.”

“It’s likely we exchanged greetings at some fund-raiser or event. Any other women on the list I may have potentially banged?”

She grinned at him. “Not really. I wondered about those two since you’re all filthy rich.”