"Oh, I'll find something appropriate, so I don't embarrass my fashionable wife."

She watched him go to the personal department store he called a closet. "Is your transmitter activated yet?" "No. Tested, then put on hold. Feeney's very strict about EDD eavesdropping in the bedroom."

"Okay. Look I know you're not going in empty. I want you to leave whatever weapon you're planning to take here." He chose a suit of midnight black. "Is that an order, Lieutenant?"

"Don't get snotty with me, Roarke. You take one of your collection and by any chance have to use it, we've got trouble I don't want to have to deal with."

"I can deal with my own trouble."

"Shut up. Leave your weapon home. I'm giving you one of mine."

He turned, a shirt in his hand. "Are you?"

"I got a temporary carry license for you, one night only. Tibble put it through." She opened a drawer, took out a small stunner. "It's not lethal, but it'll jam up the circuits just fine, and you don't need anymore than that for personal protection."

"This from a woman who currently has more weapons than hands."

"I'm the badge, you're not. Don't make this into some manly ego thing. I know you can handle yourself, and you'd rather play it that way. But this has to go down clean. Any screwups and she'll use them in court to muck up the trial. You take something unauthorized, and you're putting a weapon in her hand."

He opened his mouth and she could see the annoyance, the refusal on his face. She shook her head. "Please, do this for me." The annoyance came out, one long hiss of breath. But he held out a hand for the stunner. "Fighting dirty. Your way then." "Thanks."

The please, the thanks, instead of anger and orders, told him she was a lot more worried than she wanted him to know. "You've covered every angle, every contingency, every circumstance," he told her.

"No." She opened the evening bag she'd carried. Her badge, backup communicator, and yet another weapon she didn't feel obliged to mention were already inside. "There's always something else. She'll be there. I know it. My gut knows it. We finish this tonight."

"All clear. No sign of subject. Beginning next sweep. And these little eggroll deals are aces."

Feeney's voice was bell-clear in Eve's ear, and a welcome relief to the party chatter in the ballroom. "Copy that," she replied. Leaving the weight of small talk to Roarke, she did her own sweep.

The badges she'd selected moved through the crowd, mingling, merging. Even McNab, somewhat conservatively dressed in sapphire blue and canary yellow, wouldn't have caused a second glance. No one would make them as cops, unless they knew where to look.

It was always in the eyes. Flat, watchful, ready, even as they laughed at a joke or made one, even as they nibbled on canapes or sipped mineral water.

Out of the twelve hundred and thirty-eight people attending, twenty who roamed the ballroom were armed and wired. Another ten covered other public areas as staff, and six manned equipment in Control.

The predinner mingling portion of the event was nearly at a close.

Julianna had yet to make a move.

"We can't have our most illustrious benefactors standing here without a drink." Louise glided up, glowing in silver. She signalled a server, took two flutes of champagne off his tray, and handed them to Eve and Roarke. "You've already received your official thank-you for your donation, but I'd like to add a personal one."

"It's our pleasure." Roarke bent down to kiss her cheek. "You look stunning, as always. Hello, Charles, it's good to see you."

"Roarke. Lieutenant, you look amazing. The sexy soldier." He slid a proprietary arm around Louise's waist. "If I'm ever called to war, I'd want you leading my troops. We were afraid you wouldn't make it tonight. Delia's told me how jammed up you've been with this hunt for Julianna Dunne."

It was a constant puzzle to Eve. Here was a man, a professional companion, with his arm around the elegant blonde he was obviously gone over, talking about the brunette he'd dated for months, and nobody looked weird about it.

Add that the brunette he'd dated, and the guy she was currently banging like a hammer on a nail, were both hearing every word through Eve's mike, and you had something very strange on your hands.

Relationships were confusing enough, she thought. Mix in police work and it arcs clean out of orbit. "I make time to pay my debts,"

Eve said with a glance at Louise.

Louise laughed. "I think the million-dollar contribution already wiped that slate clean."

"That's his deal," Eve returned with a jerk of her head toward Roarke.

"Anyway, it's a nice do as these dos go."

"Stupendous praise from you, so thanks. We're going to keep the boring speeches over dinner to a minimum, then liven it up again with dancing. But before we herd this mob to the tables, I need to steal your husband."

Eve inched just a little closer to Roarke. "I'd as soon keep him. I've gotten used to him."

"I'll return him, with hardly any wear. The mayor asked specifically to have a word with you," Louise said to Roarke. "I promised I'd deliver." "Of course." Roarke set his untouched drink aside, skimmed a hand down Eve's back. "Politics must be played."

"You're telling me. Charles, you'll entertain Dallas for a few minutes, won't you?"

Eve had to fight the instinct to snatch Roarke's arm and yank him back. He could handle himself-nobody better. But he'd been no more than a foot from her side since they'd walked into the Regency.

She'd wanted to keep it that way.

She watched his back as he moved across the ballroom with Louise.

"I have a message for you, Dallas."

"Huh? What message?"

"From Maria Sanchez. I'm to tell you you're solid, and for a cop, you're a pretty decent bitch." He sipped his champagne. "I assume those are compliments."

"More to you than me, I'd say. Odds are you gave her the best conjugal she's had since they locked her cage, and the best she'll have until it opens again."

"Let's just say that if it should ever be necessary, I'm sure I could use her as a reference. Actually, she was an interesting woman with a very simple outlook on life."

"Which is?"

"The fuckers are all out to get you, so you'd better get them first."

"Somebody ought to sew that on a pillow." When she lost sight of Roarke, her stomach clutched. "Ah, I can't quite see Louise. What was that color she was wearing?"

"I got him, Dallas," Feeney said in her ear. "He's covered on the cam, and Carmichael and Rusk moved in."

"Silver," Charles said with no little surprise. He'd never heard Eve express any interest in clothes. "She looks like she's wearing moonbeams." "Got it bad, don't you, Charles?"

"A terminal case. I've never been happier in my life. Do you know what it is to find someone who accepts you for what you are, and is willing to love you anyway?"

She searched the crowd for Roarke, settled just a little when she found him. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"It makes you a better person. It makes you... whole. And that's enough philosophizing for one night." He shifted, blocking her view of Roarke for a moment. "Those earrings are absolutely fabulous." He reached out to touch one, and had her earpiece registering the click of finger on metal like a dull gong. "Antique?"

"Yeah." She re-angled her body, tried to zero in on Roarke again.

"They belonged to a soldier."

"They're perfect for you. Anything wrong?" He touched her cheek now, drew her attention back to his. "You seem a little on edge."

"Gigs like this make me itchy. People are starting to drift toward the tables. We'd better snag our dates."

"We're sitting together. We'll catch up with them at the table." He took her arm, was surprised to feel the muscles tense, almost vibrate. "You really are itchy."

Short of knocking him down, she wasn't going to shake Charles. And shoving her way through the milling crowd wasn't the way to keep a low profile. But there was a buzz in her blood that told her to get to Roarke, and get there now.

"There's something I need to tell Roarke, but I've lost his location."