She sulked over her eggs. Even bacon lost some appeal with the prospect of wrangling with Summerset.
“Isn’t it bad enough I have to face hours of swarming decorators, then end that small nightmare by having Trina pour gunk all over me? Now I have to face the smirking disapproval of our resident corpse?”
“You run an entire division of murder cops firmly, cleverly, and efficiently. You’d step in front of a stunner to save an innocent bystander. You would, and have, faced off with vicious murderers. I think you can handle Summerset, decorators in our employ, and a hair-and-skin consultant.”
He topped off her coffee in turn. “Buck up, Lieutenant.”
“Bite me.”
“I’ll schedule that in.”
She downed the coffee, rose. “Fine, but it’s not my fault I don’t know where the hell he is, and it’s a really big house, so . . .”
She broke off, had to hold back a snarl when Roarke simply lifted his eyebrows.
“Okay, fine!” The battle lost, she stalked over to the house comp. “Where’s goddamn Summerset?”
Good morning, darling Eve. Summerset is currently in the Park View guest room.
“Great. Where the hell is that?”
Before Roarke could answer, the computer continued in smooth tones.
The Park View is located here.
The little screen displayed a floor plan with a red dot pulsing in one of the rooms.
“The elevator would take you
directly there if you request it,” Roarke pointed out.
There was more chance Summerset would have moved on if she hoofed it. So she stalled. “Do all the guest rooms have names?”
“It’s a simple way to organize them. Would you like a list?”
“No. How many are there?”
“More than enough.”
“Ha!” She pointed at him. “Even you don’t know.”
“The number can vary as some of the salons, the sitting rooms, even entertainment areas can be utilized as guest rooms, if needed. Shouldn’t you be on your way?”
“I’m going.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to do whatever.”
“I’m sure you will. And I’ll wish you luck even though with it you might be longer.”
“Right.” She hesitated, but couldn’t find another reasonable excuse to stall. “If it’s longer, I’ll let you know.”
When he only smiled, she walked out. She detoured to her office, fiddled for a few minutes, grabbed the coat she’d left there, then followed the route from the screen map.
Everything smelled faintly of pine and cranberries—how was that even possible? Floors gleamed, art shone.
She found the bedroom, started to knock. Stopped herself. It was her house, too, she reminded herself, and opened the door.
Easy to see how it got its name as windows framed with shimmering drapes opened to a view of the great park.
The bed struck her as sort of regal with a lot of deep carving on dark wood, and more shimmering stuff flowing over it under a bold garden of pillows.