Page 15 of Celebrity in Death

“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.

Chapter 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.

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