She stepped forward as if to pick up the fur she’d tossed over a chair. Smoothly, she turned to hand it to him. And with perfect timing, flung herself into his arms. The sable fell as he took her shoulders to shove her back. Eve stepped to the doorway to see Magdelana with her arms locked around Roarke’s neck, his hands on her bare shoulders—one of the ivory straps sliding to her elbow. “Son of a bitch,” she said. On cue, Magdelana spun around, her face full of passion and shock. “Oh, God. Oh . . . it’s not what it looks like.” “Bet.” Eve strode in. Actually, Roarke thought, it was more of a
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