9
" I keep thinking, well, this'll settle down. It's bound to level off and settle down. But it doesn't. Even when things are just going smooth and we're just....living, I can look at you, and I've got no breath left."
"Every minute with you, I'm alive. I never knew before there were pieces of me unborn, just waiting for you. I'm alive with you, Eve"
She sighted, touched his cheek. "We'd better get out of here. We're getting mush all over the pool. "
― J.D. Robb , Strangers in Death (In Death, #26)
11
" You’re all right, Blue Eyes.” She lifted her head to look into them. “You’re all right, down the line. You ever want a free bang, you got one coming.”
“It would, no doubt be a memorable bang. But my wife is fiercely jealous and territorial.” He grinned over at a very cold-eyed Eve.
“Her? You? That’s a kick in the ass.”
“Every damn day,” Eve muttered, and strode out.
She kept striding, out of the club, back into the comparatively fresh air of the city street. And fisted her hands on her hips as she spun to him. “Did you have to do the ‘my wife’ crap?”
His grin remained, and only widened. “I did, yes. I felt a desperate need for your protection. I believe that woman had designs on me.”
“I’ll put a design on you that won’t come off in the shower.”
“See, now I’m excited.” Reaching out, he toyed with the lapel of her coat."What have you got in mind ? "
― J.D. Robb , Strangers in Death (In Death, #26)
13
" So, you’re dead asleep, and you get a call. Something terrible’s happened, and I’m dead. What do you do?”
It took him a moment to quell the terror, to ignore the small, dark place inside him that feared getting that call every day. “Before or after I fall prostrate with grief?”
“Before, during, and after. Do you peruse your wardrobe and select a coordinating outfit—down to the footwear? Do you deal with your hair so it’s perfectly groomed?”
“With my considerable skills and innate instincts that would take no time at all.”
“Keep it up and I’ll dump red sauce all over your fashionable smarty-pants.”
“That statement is one of the countless reasons why, under the circumstances you described, I’d be lucky to remember to dress at all. "
― J.D. Robb , Strangers in Death (In Death, #26)
14
" There she was. Roarke stood in the office doorway, took a few enjoyable minutes to just watch her. She had such a sense of purpose, such a sense of focus on that purpose. It had appealed to him from the first instant he’d seen her, across a sea of people at a memorial for the dead. He found it compelling, the way those whiskey-colored eyes could go flat and cold as they were now. Cop’s eyes. His cop’s eyes.
She’d taken off her jacket, tossed it over a chair, and still wore her weapon harness. Which meant she’d come in the door and straight up. Armed and dangerous, he thought. It was a look, a fact of her, that continually aroused him. And her tireless and unwavering dedication to the dead—to the truth, to what was right—had, and always would, amaze him.
She’d set up her murder board, he noted, filling it with grisly photos, with reports, notes, names. And somewhere along the line in her day, she’d earned herself a black eye.
He’d long since resigned himself to finding the woman he loved bruised and bloody at any given time. Since she didn’t look exhausted or ill, a shiner was a relatively minor event.
She sensed him. He saw the moment she did, that slight change of body language. And when her eyes shifted from her comp screen to his, the cold focus became an easy, even casual warmth.
That, he thought, just that was worth coming home for. "
― J.D. Robb , Strangers in Death (In Death, #26)
