Celebrity in Death

“Where does he get the extra ten?”

Valerie’s smile tensed at the corners. “And promotion is part of the whole. If you find you have any time, any at all, please contact me. I promise I’ll vet everything, and only make the best possible use of your time.”

“I wonder if she called him ‘Mr. Steinburger’ when they used to bang like hydrohammers in his Hollywood office,” Marlo murmured when Valerie walked away.

“No, she called him God,” Matthew said, “as in, ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God yes!’ I’ve heard her. Sadly, the office has been quiet since we got to New York.”

“Oh, they ended it months ago, before we left the Coast.”

“Got Publicity Chief on the project out of it. Sorry.” Matthew flashed that quick, charming smile at Eve again. “We’re shallow, overly obsessed about who’s doing who.”

“Like high school,” Eve suggested.

He laughed. “Afraid so. Plus gossip passes the time between takes.”

“Darling Eve!”

The Irish was a bit more ripe in the voice, and no, the eyes not as stunningly blue. But Julian Cross hit the gorgeous mark, and moved well.

In fact he moved straight to Eve, yanked her into a quick, hard kiss, with a hint of tongue.

“Hey!”

“I couldn’t help it.” The not-quite-blue-enough eyes twinkled at her. “I feel like we’re close.”

“Think that again and they’ll have to write a fat lip into your next scene.” She caught Roarke, eyes narrowed, across the room. “And possibly a broken jaw.”

“Julian, behave.” Nadine Furst sent Eve a sympathetic eye roll as she latched firmly onto Julian’s arm. “Are we the last ones here?”

“K.T. hasn’t showed up,” Marlo told her, and tipped her face up as Julian leaned over to kiss her. “Julian, you haven’t met Detectives Peabody and McNab.”

“Peabody!” With enthusiasm, he reached up, popped her right off her feet. She let out a kind of woo before he kissed her. Then she said, “Um.”

“My girl,” McNab said.

“McNab!” Julian didn’t pop McNab off his feet, but he did plant one on him.

Eve wondered if tongues were involved this time.

“Hollywood.” Matthew laughed, lifted his hands. “We’re a bunch of assholes.”

“Some of us more than others,” Marlo murmured as K.T. walked in and scowled at everyone.

3

Dinner turned out to be less formal and more freewheeling than Eve expected. She figured that was Connie’s deal—the menu of plenty, the variety of wine, the spikes and rolls of conversation.

Since she was cornered between Roundtree and Julian, Eve noted the pattern of the seating arrangement plugged what she thought of as actual people beside or across from their true and fake connections. Peabody between Matthew and McNab, Dennis between Mira and Andrea Smythe—who had an appealingly dirty laugh she used often.

Roundtree, a man who obviously enjoyed his life and took his position at the helm as a matter of course, owned an endless supply of stories. She’d heard of most of the people he talked about, but wondered if she should have taken a who’s-who-in-Hollywood primer before the evening.

“I read that you and Roarke met because he was a suspect in a murder.” Julian smiled at her in a way she imagined made a woman feel she had his entire focus and admiration.

Maybe it was even sincere.

“He was a person of interest.”

“It’s romantic.”

“Most people don’t find being a person of interest in a homicide investigation romantic.”

“A man would when the interest is coming from a beautiful investigator. He’s a lucky man.”

“He’s lucky he didn’t do the murder,” Eve said and made Julian laugh.

“I’d say you both are.”

“You’re right.” And she liked him better for saying it.

“How did you become a cop?”

“I graduated from the Police Academy.”

“But why?” He angled toward her, his mostly untouched glass of wine in his hand. “And a murder cop—that’s the term, right? Did you always want to be one?”

Well, hell, it did seem sincere. She eased off the sarcasm. “As long as I can remember.”

“That was Marlo’s take, and how she’s playing you. With that intensity and drive, that cop-to-the-core attitude. I’m trying to bring the same sort of package to Roarke—a man of power, wealth, mystery. Marlo and I agreed, early on, that the two of you are the heart of the story. The center of it.”

“I’d say the Icoves were the center.”

“I think of them more as the guts of it. What was it Marlo said, the cancer in the belly. I think.” He shrugged. “But your love story is the heart.”

“Our—” She found herself tongue-tied between horror and embarrassment.

“That shouldn’t throw you.” Julian laid a hand over hers. “Real love is beautiful. And … elusive, don’t you think?”

“Julian has a romantic’s soul.” Seated between Roundtree and Roarke across the table, Marlo sent Julian a twinkling smile. “But he’s not wrong.”

Julian twinkled right back at her, shifting that you’re-my-world focus on a dime. “Romance makes everything sweeter.”

“And you’ve got a serious sweet tooth,” Marlo countered.

“I do. The love story aspects of the script are my favorite scenes to play.”

“Oh God” was all Eve could manage.

“These two have the chemistry,” Roundtree commented. “They’re going to burn up the screens.”

“Oh God,” Eve repeated, and this time Roarke laughed.

“Steady, Lieutenant.”

“See how he says that.” Obviously delighted, Julian squeezed Eve’s hand before he leaned forward, his gaze riveted on Roarke now. “Lieutenant,” he repeated, giving the word Roarke inflection. “It’s loving and hot and intimate all at the same time.”

“It’s my rank,” Eve muttered.

“He respects your rank. You respect her rank,” he said to Roarke, wound up now, “as much as you love her.”

“Not quite,” Roarke corrected.

“No, you’re right, you’re right, but it’s up there. And you like each other. And the trust. The two of you going down into that secret lab, risking your lives—”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, give the ass-kissing a rest, Julian.” K.T. knocked back a slug of wine, then slapped her glass on the table. She actually snapped her fingers at one of the servers so he would deal with the refill. “Even your mouth ought to be tired of puckering up by now.”

“We’re having a conversation,” Julian began.

“Is that what you call it? You act like you and Marlo are the only ones in this goddamn vid, and the two people you’re trying so hard to mimic are the only ones who count. It’s insulting. So why don’t you give it a fucking rest, set up your threesome with Marlo and Dallas on your own time? Some of us are trying to eat.”

In the beat of horrified silence, Eve studied K.T. down the length of the table. “Peabody?”

“Yes, sir,” Peabody said, shoulders hunched.

“You know how I occasionally mention the possibility of kicking your ass?”

“I’d term that as regularly, but yes, sir, I do.”