Hell of a party. I was talking to this guy Derrick, works for Roarke. He played minor league ball for a couple years—screwed up his arm, switched to programming and design. Anyway, he’s got a local league plays ball. I’m going to check it out, see if I can get in on that.”
“What do you play?” Feeney asked him.
“High school and college? Shortstop. Got a partial ride in college on the sports scholarship. There’s nothing like baseball.”
“You didn’t stick with it?” Eve asked.
“I wanted the badge. Love to play, but it’s play for me. Not the job. I wanted the job.”
They talked baseball, talked shop. Eve told herself to get up, go back, do her duty. Then Reineke strolled in.
“Hey. Anybody else got the weird seeing Whitney tear up the dance floor?”
“Yes!” Eve and Santiago said together, and Feeney shook his head.
“You think because somebody’s got a few years on you, they don’t have the moves? Me and Jack could dance and drink the lot of you into the ground.”
“I don’t see you out there,” Reineke pointed out, flopped into a chair.
“You will.”
Carmichael came in, looking loose in a little black dress, bare feet, and sparkly red toenails. “Is this the bullpen?”
She sat on the arm of Santiago’s chair, copped his beer for a sip. “Whew! Some party, boss. Some serious party. I just saw Dickhead doing the sexy dance with Dr. DeWinter. I had to remove myself, save my eyes. She’s pretty sexy. If I went for girls, I’d be pretty wound up. But Dickhead’s just scary.”
“Christ. I better get back out there.”
“You could be next in the sexy-dance line.”
Eve started out, paused long enough to tap the tat at the base of her spine.
“What is that?” Reineke demanded.
“It stands for ‘kiss my ass,’” she told him, and left the cop laughter behind her.
Mulling tactics, she took the long way, ducked outside, then started around toward the ballroom terrace. Anybody asked, she’d been doing her mingling out there.
The detour caused her to walk in on Trueheart in a lip-lock with his girlfriend, which caused all three parties a moment of deep embarrassment. Eve kept moving while the couple flushed scarlet behind her.
She ran into Baxter next, just inside the ballroom. “Hey, Dallas, wanna dance?”
“Absolutely not. Don’t you have a date or something?”
“A man can’t bring a date to this kind of shindig. It’s too symbolic of serious business this close to Christmas. And it prevents him from trolling the single females.”
“So that’s actually true, on both sides of the line. Huh?”
“Since it’s a party, and also true, I’m gonna tell you you look incendiary. Love the ass tat.”
“What are you doing looking at my ass, Detective?”
“Because it’s there,” he said, unrepentant. “All wrapped in pretty gold, and we’re off duty and it’s a safe ass to look at as it’s married.”
“Oddly, I find those all reasonable answers, but stop it and look at someone else’s ass.”
“Yes, sir. Want some of this?” He took a flute off a passing tray.
“Why the hell not?” As she sipped, she spotted Roarke, smiling as he leaned down to kiss Mavis.
“It’s nice,” Baxter said with an easy, contented sigh, “when the family gets together.”
She glanced up at him. A damn good cop, she thought, and not nearly as superficial as he liked to pretend.
“One dance,” she decided. “And keep your hands off my ass.”
• • •
She did see Feeney dance, as promised. It amused her to see him hold his own with the ridiculously energetic Peabody and McNab. When he shed his suit coat for a second round, Eve picked it up, checked the size.
“I want to get him a magic coat,” she said to Roarke. “I should’ve thought of it before. Maybe he’s not in the field much like he used to be, but he should have one. Shit brown because he wears a lot of shit brown, so he must like it. Can we get him a magic coat?”
“Of course we can. Forty-two regular in shit brown.”
“Good.” She slipped an arm around his waist, let her head rest lightly against his shoulder. “My feet are fucking killing me.”
“A number of the ladies have shed their shoes. You could do the same if you didn’t have this naked-feet-in-public phobia.”
“Feet are personal. I don’t know why nobody gets that.”
Amused, in love, he brushed his lips over her temple. “The crowd’s thinning a bit. We can find a table, sit for a while, till it thins more.”
“It’s okay. They’re past the if-I-can-just-sit-down stage. It’s like