16
" Trina and her consultants will be here by four to start setting up.”
“Joy and—what? Who? Trina? Why? What have you done?”
“You said no silly games, and no strippers,” Peabody reminded her. “We’re doing the full-out girl party. Champagne, decadent food, body, hair, face treatments. Chick-vids, presents, gooey desserts. Big girl slumber party, followed by champagne brunch tomorrow.”
“You mean . . .” The shock was sharp and cruel, a stunner blast against the heart. “Overnight? All night into tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” Peabody grinned around her carrot. “Didn’t I mention that?”
“I have to kill you now.”
“Uh-uh. No games, no strippers. Those were your only rules.”
“I’ll find a way to hurt you for this. "
― J.D. Robb , Promises in Death (In Death, #28)
19
" Oh shit, oh shit, stupid shower present!”
Now she did pull her hair as she made the dash to her office.
Roarke sat in her visitor’s chair, comfortably involved with his PPC. He glanced up, let loose a regretful sigh. “You changed. And I didn’t have any time to ogle you in uniform.”
“I have to go shopping!”
Staring at her, Roarke pressed his fingertips to his temple. “I’m sorry, I believe I must have had a small stroke. What did you say?”
“This isn’t funny.” She bent down, gripped him by the lapels. “I forgot to get a thing for the thing, and I don’t even know what the thing is supposed to be. Now I have to go out and hunt something down. Except—” Her eyes went from slightly mad to speculative. “We have all kinds of things around the house. Couldn’t I just wrap something up and—”
“No.”
“Crap! "
― J.D. Robb , Promises in Death (In Death, #28)
20
" All these women. And Trina. Trina,” she repeated, with considerable passion as she gripped his shirt. “And gooey dessert and body things and chick-vids. All night. Slumber party. Do you know what that means?”
“I’ve had many dreams of them. Will there be pillow fights?”
She spun him around so his back hit the door. “Don’t. Leave. Me.”
“Darling.” He kissed her brow. “I must. I must.”
“No. You can bring Vegas here. Because . . . you’re you. You can do that. We’ll have Vegas here, and that’ll be good. I’ll buy you a lap dance.”
“That’s so sweet. But I’m going. I’ll be back tomorrow, and lay a cool cloth on your fevered brow.”
“Tomorrow?” She actually went light-headed. “You’re not coming back tonight?”
“You wouldn’t be in this state now if you paid attention. I’m taking a shuttle full of men to Las Vegas late this afternoon. There will be ribaldry, and a possible need to post bond. I’ve made arrangements. I’ll bring back this same shuttle full of men—hopefully—tomorrow afternoon.”
“Let me come with you.”
“Let me see your penis.”
“Oh, God! Can’t I just use yours?”
“At any other time. Now pull yourself together, and remember that when all this is over, you’ll very likely arrest a killer who’s also a dirty cop. It’s like a twofer.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Best I have. "
― J.D. Robb , Promises in Death (In Death, #28)