One thing about the cape, Eve noted, she could wring her hands if she felt the need. And no one could see. “I haven’t had time.”
“Your best and oldest friend just had a kid.” Trina lowered her head so her face was pressed to Eve’s, so those green eyes pinned Eve’s in the mirror. “You know I had to sit on her to keep her from coming tonight. It’s too cold to take that baby out. You gotta make time.”
“All right. Okay.”
“Belle’s the most beautiful thing that ever drew breath, I swear.” Straightening again, Trina pressed her thumbs on some point at the back of Eve’s neck, moved down her shoulders. “You’re a mess of knots, as usual.”
Eve just closed her eyes. She heard Mercy come back in—yap, yap, yap—then go away again. She heard the little snips and buzzes as Trina did whatever the hell she did with hair. She jolted when the chair eased back.
“You gotta relax, okay? You don’t look good, I don’t look good.”
“I obsess about that all the time.” And Eve closed her eyes again. It was one night, she reminded herself, and she’d get through it. Small change in the big scheme.
Fingers and thumbs pressed gently along her jaw, over her temples, along the sides of her neck, her shoulders. The clever acupressure and draining fatigue combined to pull her into sleep.
She surfaced to a murmur of voices, to light brushing, almost a tickling over her face. And she scented him. Even before her head cleared enough for her to recognize the rhythm and tone of his voice, she scented Roarke.
“Just about done,” Trina was saying. “What she’s wearing’s fine—so I guess you picked it—but I’ll take a look at the other deal you brought in, in case it’s better. Wardrobe’s going to want to have a look anyway.”
“I’m not changing,” Eve muttered.
“And she’s back.” Trina eased the chair back up. Since it was facing away from the mirror now, all Eve saw was Roarke.
“Morning,” he said, and taking her hand, ran his thumb over the back of it. “You look rested.”
“Miracles performed daily,” Trina claimed. “Let’s just polish off the hair.” Something must have gotten through as Trina put down the tools of her trade. “You know, we’ll hit that right before we go on. I’ve got to check on a couple things anyway and Nadine’s due in for her touch-up. Green Room’s just across the hall, to the right. It’s nice.”
She took off the protective cape. “Want a look before you head out?”
Eve rose, glanced toward the mirror. As advertised, she looked like herself. Brighter, she supposed, with her eyes and her lips defined and smudged up with color, but she was recognizable. And the dog shit had been well and truly buried.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?” Trina snorted. “Now you look like you’ve been on vacation. Don’t spill anything on that jacket because I think they’re going to want to go with it.”
“I’ll see she behaves.” Taking Eve’s hand again, he walked with her across the hall into the Green Room that was actually pale peach.
There was a generous wall screen currently tuned to Channel 75’s programming, generous sofas and chairs in a calming sea green, and a generous tray of fruit, cheese, and crackers on a wide counter.
“I didn’t expect you to come.”
Roarke raised a brow. “Of course I came. It’s a big night.”
“And you brought the other gear in case I messed up what I already had on.”
“Just part of the service.”
“I figured you’d be pissed at me.”
“I imagined you’d be pissed at me.” This time when he took her hands, he brought them both to his lips. “Why don’t we cancel that out? I had a considerable brood on most of the day, and I’m tired of carrying it around.”
“I thought you told me the Irish like to brood.”
“Oh, we love it. We use it to write songs and stories. But I’ve had enough of that for the time being. And never enough of you.”
Her heart lightened. How had she managed to stand, she wondered, when it had been so heavy? “I love you.”
He drew her in, touched his lips to her brow, her cheeks, the shallow dent in her chin, then laid them warmly over hers. She pressed against him, her arms linked around his waist, as together they deepened the kiss.