Encore in Death by J. D. Robb

Author:J. D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

She woke with dawn breaking, shedding pinks through the sky window over the bed. Roarke sat—fully dressed, of course—in the sitting area, tablet in hand, cat across his lap, wall screen muted.

She wondered if she’d wake this way when she hit, oh, maybe a hundred and ten. Would they have slept through the night, sated from sex, or …

A sudden thought struck and shot her straight up in bed.

Roarke glanced over. “Well then, good morning to you.”

“We had all that sex, and while we were having it, clothes got tossed around.”

“Something that happens with happy regularity, thank the gods.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it just hit me. The clothes aren’t all tossed around in the morning. You pick them up, right? Right? Summerset doesn’t come slinking in here while I’m conked and do that.”

“Summerset doesn’t slink.” Roarke reached for his coffee. “Or, I suppose he does, now and then. But no, he doesn’t come in while you’re asleep.”

“Okay. Good, really good. Listen, I help toss them around. I can take turns or whatever scooping them up.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Well, if you ever have to skip it to go buy Canada, I’ll take care of it.”

“If I ever get a tip Canada’s for sale, I’ll leave the rest to you.”

“Deal. Jesus, that sudden thought was almost like a jolt of coffee. Almost,” she repeated, and got up to get the real thing.

“I had a bunch of dreams. Not bad ones,” she added quickly when those eyes lasered on her. “Just weird ones all jumbled up. Like I have this lineup, but it’s like an audition, and all the suspects are in there singing and dancing around.”

She gulped coffee, shaking her head as she headed to the bathroom. “Just weird.”

“Not especially for her, is it?” Roarke asked the cat.

When she came out, he had two domed plates and a pot of coffee waiting. He’d banished the cat, who sat in front of the fireplace staring at the plates as if the power of his mind could transport them.

“Novak was there.”

“In the lineup audition?”

“Yeah, that. She’s more telling the others what to do. Like ‘Kick! Plié! Jump!’ What the hell is step ball change?”

“A dance step.”

“I know that. I’ve heard it or she wouldn’t have been telling people to do it. What the hell is it? You step while you juggle balls?”

“No, darling. It’s the balls of your feet.” He tapped his fingers on the table to illustrate.

“Okay, that makes more sense. How do you know that?”

He smiled charmingly. “I’ve known a few dancers.”

“As in banged a few dancers.”

“There’s no one I’d rather dance with than you.”

“Decent save.” And when he removed the domes to uncover waffles, she sat beside him. “An even better save.” She immediately soaked them in syrup.

“So, the choreographer’s the one telling everybody to change their balls. And all the rest,” she continued over Roarke’s burst of laughter. “That’s key when you’ve got a musical deal with the singing and dancing. You’ve got a big bunch of people to coordinate.

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