now we can have a meal at your desk.â
âI could use the ear.â She studied him as he pulled on the sweater. It was kind of a shame he needed one. âAre we supposed to date?â
âDate what?â
âEach other.â
He sent her a look that combined amusement, charm, and bafflement. She wondered how he managed it. âAs in I take you out, there is some form of activity, then I drop you off at the door with a long, hopeful good-night kiss?â
âNo.â She frowned. âWe never did that anyway.â
âI knew I forgot something.â He skimmed a finger down the cleft in her chin. âShould I ask you out on a date, darling Eve?â
âLook, I just wondered about it, thatâs all. Peabody started this whole thing about could she take an hourâs personal to get polished up because she and McNab had this date-night deal going so they wouldnât lose the juice.â
âThatâs very sweet. Are you wondering if weâre low on juice?â He took her hand, drew it to his lips.
âNo.â Why such a deliberately romantic gesture caused tingles straight up her arm, she didnât know. âI just wondered if thatâs the sort of thing youâre supposed to do when youâre married awhile. And you spend a lot of evenings with work.â
âWe like work, donât we?â
âYeah, we do.â She moved in, grabbed his hair with her fists and pulled his mouth to hers. She put some heat behind itâit was the least she could doâand felt the tingle up her arm arrow to her belly. She ended the kiss with a quick, light nip.
âPlenty of juice in reserve,â she decided. She laid her hands on his cheeks a moment, then stepped back. âAnd I always hated dating.â
K icked back at her desk, sharing a bottle of wine and the comforting goodness of homemade chicken pot pie struck her as just about perfect. Summerset might be a pain in her ass but the man could cook.
As they ate, she rewound the facts and impressions in her head, and played them out for Roarke.
âSo on one hand, youâve got a guy who appears to dick around on his wife of nearly sixteen years, likes the kink, and when things go wrong, the kink partner runs. But thatâs bogus.â
âBecause he was drugged.â
âThatâs the big one, but itâs not all. Accident, even if the killer was hired sex, there would have been some attempt to revive. The very least, you take the rope away. Then thereâs the pajamas.â
âThere is?â
âGretaâwho strikes me as spookily efficient as the Nazi downstairs, states the vic wore pjâs. And had ten pairs. Count is nine. Whereâs pair number ten? I have to figure the killer took them, either for a trophy, or to dispose of them away from the scene. If heâs expecting company, he either has them on so the company can undress him, or he leaves them folded in the drawer where the other nine pairs were. If heâs wearing them, and it was an accident, why grab them up when you run? Doesnât follow.â
âMaybe the killer worried there was DNA or other forensic evidence on them.â
âThe sweepers didnât find anything anywhere else in the room. Doesnât follow. Killer was sealed. Had to be sealed. The only prints in the room were Andersâs, the wifeâs, and the housekeeperâs. The few stray hairs in the bed were all his.â
âPutting that aside for a moment, and given itâs long odds considering what I know of Anders, there are some who get off on the idea of rape. Some who might enjoy the idea of being taken, forced, while theyâre unconscious. The ultimate submissive.â
âPeople are sick in all kinds of ways,â Eve commented. âBut even if he was sick that way, would anyone in their right mind go into that kind of liaison without complete trust in the partner? And with that kind of