you sure—”
“I am, yes,” he said. “But I have her file right here. Why don’t you look it over before dinner? If we’re agreed, I’ll send her copy of the signed contract.”
Really damn quick, she thought. “You signed it?”
“Signed by her, and witnessed, late this afternoon after she had it looked over. Signed by me, and witnessed, before I left for home. But not yet sent, so not yet official.”
He studied her, his cynical cop, over another sip of wine. Behind her hung a portrait she’d given him of the two of them on their wedding day.
“This is your place as much as it’s mine, so I waited until you could weigh in.”
“I’m not going to . . .” She searched for a word, fell back on one of his. “Bollocks this up. You’ve vetted her.”
“Read the file.” He patted his lap again.
“That’s a sneaky way of getting me to sit on your lap.”
“If I didn’t have sneaky ways neither of us would be in this very pleasant office space.”
He had her there. Hell, he had her everywhere anyway. She sat on his lap. And when he brought up his reports on Rochelle, she began to read.
It took less than fifteen minutes for her to admit she was being a hard-ass. “Okay, okay.” She waved at the report on-screen. “She bangs the drum. You need a top shrink, and the kids deserve one not only with the chops, but who cares.”
“They do. I’ll add I liked her quite a lot. As did Caro.”
Two people, Eve admitted, who read people well and didn’t fall for bullshit easily.
“I’d still like to know where some seriously educated kid shrink met the bust-your-balls owner of a sex club.”
“I asked her about that today. Interestingly, at a memorial service, as you and I met as well.”
“One of her patients?”
“No, a friend of one of her patients. The girl, not yet sixteen, took her own life. Rochelle went to the service with her patient. Crack knew the girl and her family, as well as Rochelle’s patient and his family. This was Christmas week.”
“Suicide Central,” Eve murmured.
“Sadly enough. Rochelle saw how the boy related to Crack, and asked if he’d consider training as a mentor for disadvantaged and/or troubled youths.”
“Huh. He’d be good at it.”
“So she thought. He thought not, then later reconsidered, and they met to talk about it. They clicked on several levels. She was very open about her middle brother, and believes that while Crack isn’t his mentor, he’s been another steadying influence. So?”
“Send the contract. She’s probably pacing the floor waiting for it. Send it, and let’s go eat spaghetti and drink more wine.”
He kissed the back of her neck, sent the contract. “As it happens, pasta’s just what I’d planned for tonight. Summerset made fresh.”
“Meatballs?”
“The pasta—the actual noodles.”
“You can do that? Why do that?”
“I can’t tell you, but it apparently pleases him. It’s capellini—spicy.”
“Does it have meatballs?”
“We’ll find out.”
* * *
While Eve discovered zucchini—again?—instead of meatballs, Rochelle let out a wild scream in the tiny corner of her bedroom she’d used for office space since Lyle moved in.
She followed it with a whoop, then a dance.
She whirled around when Lyle rushed in.
“What the hell, Ro?”
“Oh! I didn’t know you were home.”
“Just walked in. I thought you were fighting off a rapist or some shit.”
“No. Nothing.” She laughed, waved a hand. “You’ve got the night off. I forgot.”
“First night off in eight straight.” Frowning at her, he leaned on her doorjamb.
He’d put back on the weight he’d lost to illegals and prison, and had a fit, healthy look that warmed her heart. And though she liked him clean shaven—he was handsome!—she didn’t mind the strip of scruff around his jawline. He wore his hair in short dreads.
Best of all, his eyes, nearly the same shade as hers, remained clear. A little tired, maybe, but clear.
“I’ll fix you something to eat.”
He pointed at her. “You’re dressed fancy again.”
“Not really fancy.” She did have on her second-best dress—the blue one with the banded cuffs, but she didn’t think it rated fancy. “I’m taking Wilson to dinner, but I’ve got time to fix you something.”
“I’m a cook, remember?”
Yes, he was, she thought—and it thrilled her.
“A cook with a night off. Missed having you around,” she added and walked over to hug him. There’d been a time he wouldn’t have returned the hug, but he did now, even lifted her a scant inch off the floor along with it.
“Why’d you scream?”
“I was just—Oh, I can’t hold it