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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.”
    “You may get the chance to watch me kick your fake ass while you sit comfortably on your own. That’s an opportunity that doesn’t come around every day.”
    “You don’t worry me.” K.T. sneered at her.
    “I ought to. Anybody who shows their ass that big in public’s just asking to have it kicked. But maybe it’s better to just leave it hanging out there, all pink and shiny while the grown-ups talk.”
    “Well done,” Roarke said when Eve shifted back again, picked up her fork.
    Julian grabbed his wineglass, drank deep as conversation circled the table in fits and starts. “I’m sorry.” The instant the server topped off his glass, he drank deep again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I wasn’t—”
    “It’s okay, pal.” Eve tried more of the fancy lobster on her plate. “Ifyou had been Roarke would have kicked your ass already.” She gave Roarke a grin across the table. “Real love’s beautiful, elusive, and mean