After setting his glass down again, she rubbed her hand over the back of his. “You always did take work so seriously. But then, it looks good on you. In fact, it looks amazing on you. You were rising fast back in our day, but now?”
She sat back, jeweled eyes sparkling. “How does it feel, lover, to be Roarke—a man of insane wealth, power, and position?”
“I have what I want, and having that is always satisfying. And you?”
“Between, and restless and unsure. Just out of my second marriage, which is humbling, as I gave it a hell of a good try.” She gave him a quick, under-the-lashes glance. “I divorced Andre, or he divorced me, years ago. We, in the end, divorced each other. It was revoltingly civilized.”
Casually, Roarke sipped water. “He was a civilized man, as I recall, when we chose him for a mark.”
“You’re angry with me? Still?”
“Why would I be?”
“Oh, well, I’d hoped to get some alcohol into my system before I did this. But we’ll do it dry.”
She shifted so they were face-to-face, and her emerald eyes were direct and steady. “I’m so very sorry for how I ended things, the way I just left you without a word.”
“With the mark.”
“With the mark,” she agreed with a long sigh. “It seemed more entertaining, and more profitable at the time, to marry him rather than steal from him.”
Watching her, Roarke inclined his head. “Playing me instead of him.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, but yes, that’s the way it was at the bottom of it. And I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“All the same.” Again, she laid her hand over his. “I could use youth and foolishness as excuses, but I won’t. It was a terrible thing to do. Selfish and headstrong.” She paused when the waiter brought her drink, poured it from the silver shaker with some ceremony.
“Would you like to hear the specials of the day?”
Another ceremony, Roarke thought. A kind of theater where the dialogue was peppered with sauces and reductions and scents.
She wore the same scent she’d used years before. A signature, perhaps, or a deliberate choice to tease his memory.
She had been young, he thought—not yet twenty. How many selfish and headstrong acts had he committed before the age of twenty? Too many, he could admit, to count.
They’d enjoyed each other once, and he’d cared once. So, he’d take the apology, and let it go.
When they’d ordered, Magdelana sipped her martini, eyes smiling at Roarke over the rim. “Am I to be forgiven?”
“Let’s call it bygones, Maggie. We’ve put a lot of time and distance between then and now.”
“Nearly twelve years,” she agreed. “Now here we sit, and you’re the married one.”
“I am.”
“And to a cop!” Her laugh bubbled out. “You always were full of surprises. Does she know about your…hobbies?”
“She knows what I was, what I did.” Remembering that, he felt the leading edge of his irritation with Eve dull. A little. “I no longer indulge in old habits, and haven’t for some time.”
“Really?” She started to laugh again, then blinked. “You’re serious? You’re out of the game? Completely?”
“That’s right.”
“I always thought it was in your blood. I gave it up because it was fun to have Andre’s money to spend as I liked, without having to do anything for it other than look good and be charming and witty. I never expected you to retire for any reason, at any time. But I suppose your wife insisted.”
“I was nearly all the way out before I met her. It was a simple matter, and a simple choice to close the door on the rest after we became involved. She never asked.”