When she woke in the morning, he sat drinking coffee, watching the financials with the cat stretched out beside him. She sat up. “It wasn’t a Spider-Man suit.” He glanced over. “Wasn’t it?” “It was black—but he has a black one, too, I guess. It’s confusing. But it had an R—for Roarke—instead of the spider deal. And you’re swinging over the damn city and climbing up buildings, and there was a big gust of wind. It scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again.” “I’ll resist. Though you do have the most fascinating dreams.”
