"A couple of hours unconscious, you'll be better."
Though it was tempting, she didn't shove his hand away. "I've got a meeting at oh eight hundred. I have to prep."
"Eve." He shot her a warning glance when she hissed at him, then calmly laid his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not going to interfere with your work. But I will remind you that you won't do your job well if you're asleep on your feet."
"I can take a booster."
"You?" And he smiled when he said it, making her lips twitch.
"I may have to hit the departmental-approved drugs before it's over. He's not giving me any time, Roarke."
"Let me help."
"I can't use you every time it gets tough."
"Why?" His hands began to knead the tension out of her shoulders. "Because I'm not on the departmental-approved list?"
"That would be one." The shoulder massage was relaxing her a bit too much. She felt her mind drift, and wasn't able to snap it back to clarity again. "I'll take two hours downtime. Two hours to prep should be enough. But I'll crash in here."
"Good idea." It was simple enough to guide her to the sleep chair. Her bones were like rubber. He slipped down with her, ordered the chair to full recline.
"You should go to bed," she murmured, but turned her body into his.
"I prefer sleeping with my wife when the opportunity arises."
"Two hours ... I think I have an angle."
"Two hours," he agreed, and shut his eyes when he felt her go limp.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"There's something I should tell you." Roarke waited until Eve scooped up the last of an egg-white omelette, and smiled at her as he topped off her coffee. "About the Natural Perfection beauty products."
She only stared at him as she swallowed. "You own the company."
"It's a line of a company that's part of an organization that's a branch of Roarke Industries." He smiled again as he sipped his coffee. "So, in a word, yes."
"I already knew it." She jerked a shoulder, gaining some satisfaction at seeing his eyebrows lift at her careless reaction. "I actually thought I might get through a case without you being connected."
"You really have to get over that, darling. And since I do own it," he continued as she bared her teeth at him, "I should be able to help you track the products used on the victims."
"We're stumbling along there on our own." She pushed away from the little table and paced to her desk. "Logically, the products were purchased at the location where the victims were chosen. Going on that assumption, I can whittle down the choices to a short list. Those enhancements are obscenely expensive."
"You get what you pay for," Roarke said easily.
"Lip dye at two hundred credits a tube for Christ's sake." She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"I don't set the price." Now he grinned at her. "I just manage the profit."
A couple of hours of sleep and a hot meal had recharged her, he noted. She wasn't pale now, or quite so heavy-eyed. He rose, walking to her to skim his thumbs over the faint shadows under her eyes. "Would you like to sit in on a board meeting and lobby for a price adjustment?"
"Ha ha." When he brushed his lips over hers, she struggled to keep her own from curving. "Go away, I need to focus."
"In a minute." He kissed her again, nudging a sigh out of her. "Why don't you tell me about it? It'll help you to think out loud."
She sighed again, leaned for a moment, then drew back. "There's an ugliness to this because he's using something that symbolizes hope and innocence. This kid last night. . . damn it, he was harmless."
"The others were women. What does it tell you?"