Let’s have some lunch.” Sincerely stunned, Eve watched Peabody go to her AutoChef and bring up the menu of choices. “Hey, you’ve got grilled rosemary chicken sands with pepper jack cheese. We should spring for fries with that.” When she punched through the shock, it hit her. “Are you playing Roarke?” “I can’t match the accent or the mmm sexy, but being your professional and platonic partner, I’m taking his lead. You need the boost if we’re going to kick some Russian gangster’s ass, and follow it up—soon—by kicking that fucking abuser’s ass. And I get one, too. That’s a good deal for me.”
