"What a pair," she murmured and hooked her thumbs in the back pockets of her battered jeans. She turned her head to speak to Peabody, but noted her companion's attention was riveted to the left, and the look on Peabody 's face, Eve noted with some curiosity, managed to combine shock, admiration, and lust.
Following Peabody 's distracted gaze, Eve had her first view of Jess Barrow. He was beautiful. A painting in motion with a long, shining mane of hair the color of polished oak. His eyes were nearly silver, thickly lashed, intensely focused, as he worked the controls of an elaborate console. His complexion was flawless, tanned to bronze set off by rounded cheekbones and a strong chin. His mouth was full and firm, and his hands, as they flew over the controls, were as finely sculptured as marble.
"Roll up your tongue, Peabody," Eve suggested, "before you step on it."
"God. Holy God. He's better in person. Don't you just want to bite him?"
"Not particularly, but you go ahead."
Catching herself, Peabody flushed to the roots of her hair. She shifted on her sturdy legs. This was, she reminded herself, her superior. "I admire his talent."
" Peabody, you're admiring his chest. It's a pretty good one, so I can't hold it against you."
"I wish he would," she murmured, then cleared her throat as Big Mary stomped back with two dark brown bottles. "Jess gets this brew from his family down South. It's fine."
Since it was also unmarked and unlabeled, Eve prepared to sacrifice a few layers of stomach lining. She was pleasantly surprised when the liquid slid mellowly down her throat. "It is fine. Thanks."
"You add to the kitty, you can have more. I'm supposed to go down to wait for Roarke. I hear he's got money to roll in. How come you're not wearing some flash, you linked up with a rich man?"
Eve decided not to mention the baby-fist-sized diamond resting between her breasts under her shirt. "My underwear's solid gold. It chafes some, but it makes me feel secure."
After another brief processing delay, Mary hooted with laughter, slapped Eve on the back hard enough to bop her head into the glass, then headed off in her rock-breaking stride.
"We ought to sign her up," Eve muttered. "She wouldn't need a weapon or body armor."
The music built to an ear-scorching crescendo, then cut off as if severed with a knife. Below, Mavis let out a squeal and launched herself into Leonardo's open arms.
"That was a nice take, sugar." Jess's voice flowed out like top cream and drifted lazily with a Southern drawl. "You take ten and rest that golden throat for me."
Mavis's idea of resting her throat was to let out another scream, then wave desperately at Eve. " Dallas, you're here. Wasn't that mag? I'm coming up, don't go anywhere." She scrambled through a door on her trendy stilts.
"So this is Dallas." Jess pushed away from his console. His body was trim and showed off to advantage in jeans as battered as Eve's and a simple cotton shirt that would retail for a beat cop's monthly paycheck. He wore a diamond stud in his ear that glinted as he crossed the booth and a braided gold chain around his wrist that slid fluidly as he held out one of those beautiful hands. "Mavis is brimming over with stories about her cop."
"Mavis brims over habitually. It's part of her charm."
"That it is. I'm Jess, and I'm delighted to meet you at last." With his hand still cupped over Eve's, he turned that slow, heart-thudding smile onto Peabody. "And it seems we have two cops for the price of one."
"I – I'm a huge fan," Peabody managed and fought against the nervous stutter. "I have all of your discs, audio and video. I've seen you in concert."
"Music buffs are always welcome." He released Eve's hand to take hers. "Why don't I show you my favorite toy?" he suggested, leading her toward the console. Before Eve could follow, Mavis burst in.
"What did you think? Did you like it? I wrote it. Jess orchestrated it, but I wrote it. He thinks it could hit."
"I'm really proud of you. You sounded great." Eve returned Mavis's enthusiastic embrace and grinned at Leonardo over her shoulder. "How does it feel to be hooked up with a rising music legend?"
"She's wonderful." He leaned in to give Eve a one-armed squeeze. "You look terrific. I noticed on some news clips that you wore a number of my designs. I'm grateful."
"I'm grateful," Eve said and meant it. Leonardo was a talented and emerging genius of clothing design. "I didn't look like Roarke's rag-picking cousin."
"You always look like yourself," Leonardo corrected, but he narrowed his eyes and flipped his fingers through her untidy hair. "You need some work here. If you don't have it styled every few weeks, it loses shape."
"I was going to trim it up some, I just – "
"No, no." He shook his head solemnly, but his eyes twinkled at her. "The days of you hacking at it yourself are over. You call Trina, have her do you."
"We'll have to drag her again." Mavis grinned at everything. "She'll keep making excuses and start clipping at it with kitchen shears when it gets in her eyes." She giggled when Leonardo shuddered. "We'll get Roarke to hound her."
"I'd be delighted to." He stepped out of the elevator, walked straight to Eve and, framing her face in his hands, kissed her. "What am I hounding you about?"
"Nothing. Have a drink." She passed him her bottle.
Instead of drinking, he kissed Mavis in greeting. "I appreciate the invitation. This is quite a setup."
"Isn't it mag? The sound system's ace of the line, and Jess works all kinds of magic with the console. He's got like six million instruments programmed in. He can play them all, too. He can do anything. The night he came into the D and D changed my life. It was like a miracle."
"Mavis, you're the miracle." Smoothly, Jess led Peabody back toward the group. She was flushed and glassy-eyed. Eve could see the pulse in her throat pounding to its own rhythm.
"Down, girl," she muttered, but Peabody only rolled her eyes.
"You met Dallas and Peabody, right? And this is Roarke." Mavis bounced on her stilts. "My closest friends."
"It's a genuine pleasure." Jess offered one of his finely boned hands to Roarke. "I admire your success in the business world and your taste in women."
"Thank you. I tend to be careful with both." Roarke scanned the area, inclined his head. "Your studio's impressive."
"I love showing it off. It's been in the planning stages for some time. Mavis is actually the first artist to use it, other than myself. Mary's going to order food. Why don't I show you my prize creation before I put Mavis back to work?"
He led the way back to the console, sat at it like a captain at the helm. "The instruments are programmed in, of course. I can call up any number of combinations and vary pitch and speed. It's accessed for voice command, but I rarely use that. Distracts me from the music."
He slid controls and had a simple backbeat playing. "Recorded vocals." He tapped his fingers over buttons and Mavis's voice punched out, surprisingly gritty and rich. A monitor displayed the sounds with washing of colors and shapes. "I use that for computer analysis. Musicologists" – he flashed a charming, self-deprecating smile – "we can't help ourselves. But that's another story."
"She sounds good," Eve commented, pleased.
"And she'll sound better. Overdubbing." Mavis's voice split, layered over itself in close harmony. "Layers and fill." Jess's hands danced over the controls, drawing out guitars, brass, the jingle of a tambourine, the searing wail of a sax. "Cool it down." Everything slowed, mellowed. "Heat it up." Went into double time, blasted.
"That's all very basic, as is having her duet with recording artists of the past. You'll have to hear her version of 'Hard Day's Night' with the Beatles. I can also code in any sound." With a smile flirting around his mouth, he spun a dial, and skimmed his fingers over the keys. Eve's voice whispered out.