She laughed, something he noted she did more easily and more often these days, and with a shrug, picked up her glass. “What the hell, I’ll oblige you. And when I’m drunk”—she gulped down the priceless wine like water—“I’ll give you a ride you won’t soon forget.”
Lust he’d thought sated for the moment crawled edgily into his belly. “Well, in that case”—he poured wine into his own glass, teasing it to the rim—“let’s both get drunk.”
“I like it here,” she announced. Pushing back from the table, she carried her glass to the thick railing of carved stone. It must have cost a fortune to have it quarried, then shipped—but he was Roarke, after all.
Leaning over, she watched the light and water show, scanned the buildings, all domes and spears, all glossy and elegant to house the sumptuous people and the sumptuous games they would come to play.
The casino was completed and glowed like a golden ball in the dark. One of the dozen pools was lighted for the night and the water glimmered cobalt blue. Skywalks zigzagged between buildings and resembled silver threads. They were empty now, but she imagined what they would be like in six months, a year: crammed with people who shimmered in silks, glowed with jewels. They would come to be pampered within the marble walls of the spa with its mud baths and body enhancement facilities, its soft-spoken consultants and solicitous droids. They’d come to lose fortunes in the casino, to drink exclusive liquor in the clubs, to make love to the hard and soft bodies of licensed companions.
Roarke would offer them a world, and they could come. But it wouldn’t be her world when they filled it. She was more comfortable with the streets, the noisy half world of law and crime. Roarke understood that, she thought, as he’d come from the same place as she. So he had offered her this when it was only theirs.
“You’re going to make something here,” she said and turned to lean back against the rail.
“That’s the plan.”
“No.” She shook her head, pleased that it was already starting to swim from the wine. “You’ll make something that people will talk about for centuries, that they’ll dream of. You’ve come a long way from the young thief who ran the back alleys of Dublin, Roarke.”
His smile was slow and just a little sly. “Not so very far, Lieutenant. I’m still picking pockets—I just do it as legally as I can. Being married to a cop limits certain activities.”
She frowned at him now. “I don’t want to hear about them.”
“Darling Eve.” He rose, brought the bottle with him. “So by-the-book. Still so unsettled that she’s fallen madly in love with a shady character.” He filled her glass again, then set the bottle aside. “One that only months ago was on her short list of murder suspects.”
“You enjoy that? Being suspicious?”
“I do.” He skimmed a thumb over a cheekbone where a bruise had faded away—except in his mind. “And I worry about you a little.” A lot, he admitted to himself.
“I’m a good cop.”
“I know. The only one I’ve ever completely admired. What an odd twist of fate that I would have fallen for a woman so devoted to justice.”
“It seems odder to me that I’ve linked up with someone who can buy and sell planets at a whim.”
“Married.” He laughed. Turning her around, he nuzzled the back of her neck. “Go on, say it. We’re married. The word won’t choke you.”
“I know what we are.” Ordering herself to relax, she leaned back against him. “Let me live with it for a while. I like being here, away with you.”
“Then I take it you’re glad you let me pressure you into the three weeks.”
“You didn’t pressure me.”
“I had to nag.” He nipped her ear. “Browbeat.” His hands slid up to her breasts. “Beg.”
She snorted. “You’ve never begged for anything. But maybe you did nag. I haven’t had three weeks off the job in . . . never.”
He decided against reminding her she hadn’t had it now, precisely. She rarely went through a twenty-four-hour period without running some program that put her up against a crime. “Why don’t we make it four?”
“Roarke—”
He chuckled. “Just testing. Drink your champagne. You’re not nearly drunk enough for what I have in mind.”
“Oh?” Her pulse leaped, making her feel foolish. “And what’s that?”
“It’ll lose in the telling,” he decided. “Let’s just say I intend to keep you occupied for the last forty-eight hours we have here.”
“Forty-eight hours?” With a laugh, she drained her glass. “When do we get started?”
“There’s no time like—” He broke off, scowling when the doorbell sounded. “I told the staff to leave the clearing up. Stay here.” He snugged together her robe, which he’d just untied. “I’ll send them away. Far away.”