There she was. Roarke stood in the office doorway, took a few enjoyable minutes to just watch her. She had such a sense of purpose, such a sense of focus on that purpose. It had appealed to him from the first instant he'd seen her, across a sea of people at a memorial for the dead. He found it compelling, the way those whiskey-colored eyes could go flat and cold as they were now. Cop's eyes. His cop's eyes.
She'd taken off her jacket, tossed it over a chair, and still wore her weapon harness. Which meant she'd come in the door and straight up. Armed and dangerous, he thought. It was a look, a fact of her, that continually aroused him. And her tireless and unwavering dedication to the dead-to the truth, to what was right-had, and always would, amaze him.
She'd set up her murder board, he noted, filling it with grisly photos, with reports, notes, names. And somewhere along the line in her day, she'd earned herself a black eye.
He'd long since resigned himself to finding the woman he loved bruised and bloody at any given time. Since she didn't look exhausted or ill, a shiner was a relatively minor event.
She sensed him. He saw the moment she did, that slight change of body language. And when her eyes shifted from her comp screen to his, the cold focus became an easy, even casual warmth.
That, he thought, just that was worth coming home for.
She'd taken off her jacket, tossed it over a chair, and still wore her weapon harness. Which meant she'd come in the door and straight up. Armed and dangerous, he thought. It was a look, a fact of her, that continually aroused him. And her tireless and unwavering dedication to the dead-to the truth, to what was right-had, and always would, amaze him.
She'd set up her murder board, he noted, filling it with grisly photos, with reports, notes, names. And somewhere along the line in her day, she'd earned herself a black eye.
He'd long since resigned himself to finding the woman he loved bruised and bloody at any given time. Since she didn't look exhausted or ill, a shiner was a relatively minor event.
She sensed him. He saw the moment she did, that slight change of body language. And when her eyes shifted from her comp screen to his, the cold focus became an easy, even casual warmth.
That, he thought, just that was worth coming home for.
( J.D. Robb )
[ Strangers in Death ]
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