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She crossed over to the bottle he'd left on the table, poured a glass for herself. "Been home long?"
"I haven't, no. A few minutes."
"Did you eat?"
His eyebrows arched, the eyes beneath warming with humor. "I did, if one considers what's available at the hospital edible. And you?"
"I caught something, and yours couldn't have been worse than what I can get at Central. So you went by to see Mr. Grace and Agility?"
"He sends you equally fond thoughts." Roarke sipped his wine, watched her over the rim. Waited.
"Okay, okay." She dropped into a chair. "How's he doing?"
"Well enough for someone who fell down a flight of steps this morning. Which he wouldn't have done if he'd use the flaming elevator. Snapped his fucking leg like a twig, ripped bloody hell out of his shoulder. Well."
He closed his eyes again, tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Opened his eyes again. And made her wonder if he went through that same routine when he was settling down after dealing with what he liked to call one of her "snits."
"Well. They've got the leg in a skin cast and brace, and tell me it'll fuse like new. A clean break. The shoulder's likely to trouble him longer. He's sixty-eight. I couldn't remember that this morning. You'd think he'd use the elevator when he's got an armload of something or other. And why he'd bother with linens when he should've been getting himself out the door for holiday is another that's beyond me."
"Because he's a stubborn, tight-assed son of a bitch who has to do everything himself, and his way?"
Roarke let out a half-laugh and drank more wine. "Well, so he is."
And you love him, Eve thought. He's your father in every way that counts.
"So, you're bringing him home tomorrow."
"I am. My ears are still ringing from his annoyance that he isn't home tonight. You'd think I'd locked him in a snake pit rather than seeing he's in a private suite at the best medical facility in the goddamn city. Fuck me, I should be used to that sort of thing."
She pursed her lips when he shoved out of the chair and headed back to the wine bottle. "I guess you bitch to him about how I complain when you dump me in a health center. Maybe the two of us can arrange for you to have some hospital time. Then Summerset and I will finally bond."
"What a happy day that'll be."
"Had a crappy day, haven't you, ace?" She set her glass aside and rose.
"Tomorrow promises to be just as delightful. He's not happy with the idea of having a medical aide in-house here for the next week or so."
"Can't blame him. He's feeling stupid, uncomfortable, and pissed off. So he kicks at you, because he loves you best." She took the glass from Roarke's hand, set it down. "That's what I do."
"From the bruises on my ass, both of you must love me desperately."
"I guess I do." She linked her arms around his neck, fit her body to his. "Why don't I show you?"
"Are you taking my mind off my poor mood?"
"I don't know." She rubbed her lips over his. "Am I?"
"Well." He gripped her hips, pressed her closer. "Things are looking up."
She snickered, and bit him. "We're all alone. What should we do first?"
"Let's try something we haven't before."
She eased back to study him. "If we haven't done it yet, it must not be anatomically possible."
"You've such a gutter mind." He kissed the top of her nose. "I love that about you." He drew her back to him. "I was thinking of dancing in the parlor."
"Hmm," she decided as she swayed with him. "It's not bad. For starters. Of course, in my earlier fantasy, we were naked while we were dancing."
"We'll get there." Relaxing, making the effort to relax, he brushed his cheek over her hair. This was what he needed, he thought. She was what he needed. To hold onto. To sink into. "I haven't asked about your
"I haven't, no. A few minutes."
"Did you eat?"
His eyebrows arched, the eyes beneath warming with humor. "I did, if one considers what's available at the hospital edible. And you?"
"I caught something, and yours couldn't have been worse than what I can get at Central. So you went by to see Mr. Grace and Agility?"
"He sends you equally fond thoughts." Roarke sipped his wine, watched her over the rim. Waited.
"Okay, okay." She dropped into a chair. "How's he doing?"
"Well enough for someone who fell down a flight of steps this morning. Which he wouldn't have done if he'd use the flaming elevator. Snapped his fucking leg like a twig, ripped bloody hell out of his shoulder. Well."
He closed his eyes again, tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Opened his eyes again. And made her wonder if he went through that same routine when he was settling down after dealing with what he liked to call one of her "snits."
"Well. They've got the leg in a skin cast and brace, and tell me it'll fuse like new. A clean break. The shoulder's likely to trouble him longer. He's sixty-eight. I couldn't remember that this morning. You'd think he'd use the elevator when he's got an armload of something or other. And why he'd bother with linens when he should've been getting himself out the door for holiday is another that's beyond me."
"Because he's a stubborn, tight-assed son of a bitch who has to do everything himself, and his way?"
Roarke let out a half-laugh and drank more wine. "Well, so he is."
And you love him, Eve thought. He's your father in every way that counts.
"So, you're bringing him home tomorrow."
"I am. My ears are still ringing from his annoyance that he isn't home tonight. You'd think I'd locked him in a snake pit rather than seeing he's in a private suite at the best medical facility in the goddamn city. Fuck me, I should be used to that sort of thing."
She pursed her lips when he shoved out of the chair and headed back to the wine bottle. "I guess you bitch to him about how I complain when you dump me in a health center. Maybe the two of us can arrange for you to have some hospital time. Then Summerset and I will finally bond."
"What a happy day that'll be."
"Had a crappy day, haven't you, ace?" She set her glass aside and rose.
"Tomorrow promises to be just as delightful. He's not happy with the idea of having a medical aide in-house here for the next week or so."
"Can't blame him. He's feeling stupid, uncomfortable, and pissed off. So he kicks at you, because he loves you best." She took the glass from Roarke's hand, set it down. "That's what I do."
"From the bruises on my ass, both of you must love me desperately."
"I guess I do." She linked her arms around his neck, fit her body to his. "Why don't I show you?"
"Are you taking my mind off my poor mood?"
"I don't know." She rubbed her lips over his. "Am I?"
"Well." He gripped her hips, pressed her closer. "Things are looking up."
She snickered, and bit him. "We're all alone. What should we do first?"
"Let's try something we haven't before."
She eased back to study him. "If we haven't done it yet, it must not be anatomically possible."
"You've such a gutter mind." He kissed the top of her nose. "I love that about you." He drew her back to him. "I was thinking of dancing in the parlor."
"Hmm," she decided as she swayed with him. "It's not bad. For starters. Of course, in my earlier fantasy, we were naked while we were dancing."
"We'll get there." Relaxing, making the effort to relax, he brushed his cheek over her hair. This was what he needed, he thought. She was what he needed. To hold onto. To sink into. "I haven't asked about your
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