It's going to work."
"Classic," Roarke said.
"What's going to work? What's classic? I want my jacket."
"Forget it. You're going to walk right up to Milo the Mole's front door, and he's going to answer."
"I am? He is?"
"Damsel in distress, right?" Eve said to Roarke.
"A very alluring damsel. Clever, Lieutenant."
"Oh, okay. I get it. I look like I'm in trouble-all alone, unarmed. Harmless. Girl. He opens up to find out what's what. You should do it," Peabody told Eve.
"You're the one with the tits. Men are stupid for tits."
"Harsh," Roarke observed. "But largely true."
"Plus, you're the type, obviously, who appeals to skinny geeks."
"Oh yeah," McNab confirmed. "Completely.
"Classic," Roarke said.
"What's going to work? What's classic? I want my jacket."
"Forget it. You're going to walk right up to Milo the Mole's front door, and he's going to answer."
"I am? He is?"
"Damsel in distress, right?" Eve said to Roarke.
"A very alluring damsel. Clever, Lieutenant."
"Oh, okay. I get it. I look like I'm in trouble-all alone, unarmed. Harmless. Girl. He opens up to find out what's what. You should do it," Peabody told Eve.
"You're the one with the tits. Men are stupid for tits."
"Harsh," Roarke observed. "But largely true."
"Plus, you're the type, obviously, who appeals to skinny geeks."
"Oh yeah," McNab confirmed. "Completely.
( J.D. Robb )
[ Calculated in Death ]
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